Him by Carey Heywood (reading strategies book .txt) 📕

He shrugs, his typical non-answer. He closes his locker and picks up his bookbag as we make our way to the side exit.

I knew it. "Why doesn’t she like me?"

He's shaking his head. "Don’t worry about her. She’s just jealous of you."

I stop walking, stunned. "Why?"

He rolls his eyes, and I punch him in the arm.

"You're so violent," he grins, rubbing the spot I punched.

I raise my brows. He still hasn’t answered my question.

He groans, tugging on my arm so I start walking again. "Fine, whatever. She thinks I'd rather hang out with you."

I wrinkle my nose at him. We both know he would. I have no idea why he's even dating her. She's such a bitch. Will's looking everywhere but at me. Sometimes he seriously sucks at just spitting something out.

"So." I stop again. My hands are on my hips. "You freely admit your girlfriend doesn’t like me, but you still want me to go to the movies with the two of you and be a third wheel?"

He nods like he's thrilled I've finally figured out one plus one equals two.

"William Ethan Price." I pause between each part of his name. He totally hates it when I say his whole name. "You are like need-to-go-to-a-mental-institution crazy if you think I'm going to go see a movie with you two."

He turns to me, grabbing my hand, and holds it in both of his. "Please Sarah. Come on. You know you want to see this movie."

I can't lie. I am completely affected by his touch. I am almost tingling all over just because he's holding my hand. Get it together, you pathetic loser, I tell myself, but he's won. I just can't say no to him. No matter how much it breaks my heart to see him with her, I'd do anything for him. Sometimes you just can't help it when you're in love with your best friend, and he has no idea.

"You're paying, and I want an Icee," I grumble.

He grins and gives the back of my hand an exaggerated kiss. My eyes widen as I feel his perfect lips on my skin. I think I must have forgotten how to breathe because suddenly I'm somehow choking on air. Will drops my hand and thumps me on the back. How romantic. Not that I should be even wasting my time thinking about romance. He’s not mine.

"I still don’t get why you want me to go." I say, once I'm able to speak again.

"Honestly, I wish Jessica wasn’t going," he mumbles.

I smack his arm again. "You're the one who's dating her," I exclaim.

"I'm thinking about breaking up with her."

Do it! Do it! My brain shrieks.

"So do you think I should?" He looks at me, chewing the corner of his mouth.

Yes! "Look, Will. I feel really weird giving you advice on something like this. I mean, come on. I have like zero dating experience."

"I think I like someone else."

No! "Who?" I can't look at him. This conversation is like a roller coaster ride. First, he tells me he's thinking about breaking up with Jessica, and now, he might like someone else. I don’t know if my heart can handle watching him date someone new all over again.

He hasn’t answered. "Who is she?" I keep my eyes forward and nudge his toe.

"I don’t want to say. I don’t think she likes me like that."

My eyes snap to his. How is that even possible? He is only the sweetest, most wonderful, not to mention gorgeous, guy in our school. Scratch that. State. "Then she doesn’t deserve you."

He's chewing on the side of his bottom lip again. He pauses and shrugs before putting me in a headlock and walking like that with me down the hall. In vain I try to push off his stomach, but he just laughs and keeps walking. He is so annoying sometimes. Turning my face towards his bicep, I lick it. He releases me with a stunned look on his face. I stretch my neck and stick my tongue out at him.

"I can't believe you just licked my arm," he stammers.

"You deserved it," I taunt.

"Oh, I'm so going to get you," he says right before he rushes me.

I scream, running out the door and into the school parking lot. Will is hot on my heels. I just barely make it to his car and drop my backpack on top of the trunk. His pace has slowed, and he lazily drops his on the hood. He has a very devious glint in his eyes. I'm in trouble, big time trouble. He starts towards the back of the car.

I head towards the front of the car, saying, "Please don't, please don't." I have no idea what he has planned, and I don’t want to find out.

He's rubbing his hands together and doing his best impression of an evil laugh. It's making me laugh, and I kind of have to pee. This is bad.

"Promise you won't tickle me," I beg.

"No promises, Miller Lite." He moves closer.

I scream again and am at the back of his Jetta again.

"Gotta face the music, Sarah. There’s no way you're getting out of this."

He lunges for me, but I evade him by inches, just feeling the movement of air from his missed grasp on the back of my legs. I'm panting by the time I reach the front of the car. I look back at him and freeze. He's not there. Shit! Where the hell did he go? I crouch down to look under the car and don’t hear him until it's too late, and I'm airborne. Before I know it, I’m hanging over his shoulder, and he is racing to the field behind the parking lot. He flops me down on my back and sits on me straddle-style.

"Oh my God," I yell. "You’re crushing me."

He just grins and waggles his fingers at me.

I try to buck him off of me, but he just laughs. "Don't," I gasp. "I swear I have to pee. If you tickle