Straight To You

seventeen

"Yes," Lana assures me with a teasing smile, rolling her blue eyes. Raising her eyebrows as her expression becomes curious, Lana asks, "Hey, where'd you run off to Friday, anyway? You just disappeared."

It takes a moment for it to register in my mind that Lana is referring to the party that I left early with Jack last Friday night. Huh, I can't help thinking, Lucas didn't tell her about Jack taking me home? Why wouldn't he bring that up?

"Oh," I murmur nonchalantly, racking my brain for an excuse to explain why I would bail on my friend. "You know, I just went home. I wasn't feeling so good."

"Who gave you a ride?" Lana continues, her eyebrows furrowing as she studies me skeptically, lips wilting into a frown.

"Just this girl," I lie, waving my hand dismissively. "She noticed I was really wasted and offered to help out. She was really sweet." Do I feel bad for lying to Lana? Yes. Does that mean I'm going to tell her the truth? Definitely not.

"Did you catch her name?" Lana asks, looking around like she's trying to spot the imaginary girl I just made up somewhere in the cafeteria.

"I was drunk." I cringe at my excuse, feeling immensely guilty. Shrugging, I mumble, "I forgot."

"I was really worried about you," Lana admits, looking down at her tray as she purses her lips. "For a minute I thought something might have happened to you. I couldn't find Lucas anywhere either. I assumed you two went off together, but I guess I was wrong."

This is news to me. I had no clue that Lucas left the party that night. After the fight with Jack, he must not have been left in the party type of mood. If only I could remember what it was the two of them were fighting about . . .

"I bet you're just excited about the game," Lana says with a taunting tone, smirking at me. "You were screaming so loudly the whole time, you would have thought you were watching the pros."

I laugh at Lana's dig, rolling my eyes good-naturedly before offering her a knowing smile as I admit, "I am. My dad was super happy about the win, too."

"Did you see Jack play?" Lana questions, expression dumbstruck. "I had no clue he was that good. I don't think we would have won without him."

"He was pretty good," I admit, nodding slowly. I may not be on speaking terms with Jack at the moment, but I have to give credit where it's due. Really, most of the cheering I had been doing was for Jack. I would never admit it out loud, but my eyes were on Jack almost the entire night. It was like I couldn't escape him, unable to look away.

And, as much as it hurts to admit, I didn't entirely hate that.

No, no, no, Morgan, I scold myself. Enough of that. You do not like Jack Crawford. You basically told him off the other day, anyway. He hates you now. Besides, he knows about Mom. He knows everything. You can't keep him around anymore. It's too much.

"Speak of the devil," Lana mutters suddenly, gesturing across the cafeteria. I find my gaze following her finger, landing on no other than Jack Crawford himself. And . . . he's not alone.

Across the cafeteria, Jack stands by the far wall, talking to a grinning Lacey. I can't help finding the scene in a little odd, recalling Friday night before the game when Jack told me that he and Lacey had called it quits. Watching the way he smiles at her as Lacey says something to Jack, I can't help thinking that this doesn't seem to be the case.

I watch in horror as Jack suddenly wraps his arms around Lacey's waist, whispering something in her ear that makes her laugh. He then plants a few tender kisses on her neck, pressing her back against the wall and kissing her on the lips. I can't help thinking that this is a little much, even for the two of them. It almost appears like Jack is trying to put on a show. Like he wants someone to see.