The Red Zone Read online

  I was supposed to meet someone in the school library who needed help in French. Madame Quattlebaum had all but begged me and I think that was simply because high school teachers didn’t need to beg. They had the upper hand.

  And that was mostly why I was so pissed right now. Because I was wasting my damn time. And I didn’t use the D word lightly. I took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent of old books and new alike, and told myself I loved this smell and I could wait another five minutes.

  And for those five minutes I stared at the clock and felt my face grow hot. I could have been at home practicing my clarinet, or reading a good horror book, or listening to my new Prince album. In fact, I could think of a million things I’d rather be doing right now than waiting on the inconsiderate person who was wasting my perfectly good afternoon.

  After another fifteen minutes, I pushed my chair back so hard, the loud scrape made me wince as I stood and started to collect my French textbook and worksheets. I felt eyes on me from the table nearby and turned that way to find what looked like three upperclassman boys looking at me and whispering. I was pretty sure at this point my face was exactly the color as my dark scarlet hair. It was no coincidence I was named Scarlett Knox. My momma had told me and everyone who wanted to listen on more than one occasion that she’d been all gung ho in naming me Taylor after her favorite uncle who’d passed during her pregnancy. But after twenty-four hours of intense labor she’d had to endure on Labor Day of all days, I’d finally arrived. She was so dramatic. They’d plopped my mucus and blood covered body on her chest and all she’d seen was my head full of flaming red hair. She’d described it so many times I could see it in my head. Which was just awful. Her holding her yucky baby with red hair and looking at my dad with gaga eyes and saying I had to be Scarlett. Scarlett Taylor Knox. Cliché as hell redhead. And then the woman had the audacity to never even call me by either of my given names, instead opting for the nickname of Lettie.

  The boys at the table giggled again and I ran my tongue over my teeth, checking my braces for food. I shoved my stuff in my bookbag and slung it over my shoulder before pushing my black, thick-rimmed glasses up the bridge of my nose.

  Lord, but I was a mess and I knew it, too. It wasn’t that I didn’t care, but I was only a freshman. I didn’t really have any interest in boys yet, being the late bloomer that I was. And most of the boys in the small town of Summerville, Alabama, I knew too dang well to be interested in. For instance, like good ole Jeremy Lawton sitting at the table with the other boys who were giggling like fifth grade girls instead of the high school students they were. He’d picked his boogers and eaten them in the fifth grade. I pursed my lips. You weren’t laughing then, were you, Jeremy?

  Immature jackasses, the lot of them. I pivoted on the heel of my army green Converse, my eyes to the floor, ignoring the boys still whispering and laughing softly across the room and took one, two, three steps forward before I face-planted right into a broad chest that was covered by a startling white T-shirt that smelled like fabric softener and sunshine.

  “Oomph,” I grunted as large, warm, tan hands landed on my shoulders, straightening me so I could look up into the eyes of none other than the star quarterback of Summerville High. The one, the only, Lukas Callihan.

  I wasn’t short for a girl at five-foot-six and still he towered over me, at least six-foot-two, his frame at least three times wider than mine.

  I stared up at him, speechless. Which wasn’t abnormal for me. I was the quiet, shy type on a regular day and running face first into the school’s most popular boy was definitely not a typical day for me. At all.

  He looked down at me, forehead wrinkled before glancing past me and around the study space in the library. I continued standing in front of him, dumbfounded because that’s what shy, possibly hormonal freshmen girls did.

  His questioning eyes landed on the boys across the room. He smiled and raised a hand in greeting. “Hey, Marcus.”

  Marcus, a junior who flipped his eyelids inside out at me in the cafeteria when I’d been in the third grade, waved back.

  “I’m supposed to meet my French tutor here.” He looked down at a piece of paper in his hand and I noticed his nose was straight and narrow and he had some stubble on his chin. And then what he’d just said registered in my small, fourteen-year-old mind. I froze in place, my eyes wide, my face pale. Because no. There was no way in hell I was tutoring a senior in French. Especially not Luk Callihan. No way. No how.

  I tried to moonwalk backward, slowly, quietly, hoping like usual no one noticed me. Prince was waiting at home. I could listen to “When Doves Cry” and have a good cry like I sometimes did for no other reason at all than I was a crazy teenager. Probably most kids my age weren’t listening to Prince since his music was older than me, but I didn’t care. I was in love with the man and his lyrics.

  Luk looked at Marcus again. “Do you know a Scarlett Knox?”

  Marcus snickered and his gaze flew to me. “She’s right there, man.”

  Booger boy chuckled low and I wanted to take my shoe off and chuck it at him.

  Brown eyes as dark as night landed on mine and that line between his brows was deeper than twenty seconds ago.

  “You’re Scarlett?” His voice was laced with disbelief and my hackles rose.

  I straightened my shoulders and pushed out my still non-existent chest. I just wasn’t there yet. I hadn’t had my period. Or gotten boobs, or really any shape.

  “Yep,” I popped out, probably snappier than I should have. Yes, I was freshman, but I’d been in the advanced program in our school system since the fourth grade when I’d started taking French. I was on my fifth year and ole Mister Quarterback here was on his second mandatory year for graduation. He may have been a senior to my freshman, but I could run French circles around his very nice-looking behind. Not that I noticed his delectable derriere.

  His lips turned down into a frown. “But you’re like thirteen.”

  I cleared my throat. “Fourteen,” I snarked, my teenage sensibilities thoroughly offended, my face flush as the douches across the room watched on. Jesus, I was embarrassed. And just like any time I was embarrassed, I became inevitably angry. It was my defense mechanism, this anger. It kept me from being sad or hurt.

  I could feel my temper heat along with my face.

  “What French are you taking?” he questioned, clearly not believing anything I was saying.

  “French Two, Advanced,” I answered, pulling my backpack higher up on my shoulders and trying to step around him.

  His hand reached out, grabbing my arm as I tried to pass by.

  “Hey, where are you going?”

  I shrugged his warm hand off and ignored the way my belly fluttered at his touch. No, there would be no belly fluttering. No swooning. No dang pitter-pattering of the heart. I was a logical girl. I didn’t even really care about boys. Especially good-looking seventeen-year-old jocks who couldn’t pass level two French. Absolutely not, I willed my stomach.

  “You should have been here thirty minutes ago. Our tutoring session is over. You missed it,” I deadpanned before heading to the door with the red exit sign above it.

  “Aw, come on. Practice ran over,” he called out, but I didn’t bother to turn around as I answered him.

  “Not my problem, Mister Quarterback.”

  I heard a guffaw from the douche brigade right before Luk called out, “Tomorrow, then?”

  I turned around, which looking back I realized was the biggest mistake of my high school years. Because when I did, there he stood looking all masculine with his square jaw and slightly large but narrow nose. But that didn’t stop his expressive face and eyes from looking desperate and pleading. So, I caved. I folded like a soft deck of cards because he was just too handsome and too sweet in that moment for me to do anything but freaking give in.

  I shrugged my shoulders heavily for effect before I pushed the exit door open. “If you can make it on time.”

  I stepped out in
to the sunlight, paused on the steps, and took a deep breath, pressing my shaking hands to my stomach. There was no way in a million years that I was going to tutor the most popular, sought after boy in school. No matter how sweet and pathetic he looked at me with those brown puppy dogs that were meant to destroy young girls with one small glance. No way! I was Lettie Knox. Too skinny. Too tall. Too red. Too nerdy.

  I’d have to beg Madame to find another tutor for Luk. There was no way this was going to work, especially since he hadn’t even had the decency to show up on time. That part didn’t surprise me. I found that most of the guys in school who were big shots didn’t care much about anyone other than themselves. They were self-absorbed and cocky. That’s what I told myself Luk was. One of those boys. Even though my eyes had told me different, but it wouldn’t be the first time they’d deceived me. I didn’t have time for boys, especially ones like Lukas Callihan. No, there was no way in hell I was showing up tomorrow.

  It was tomorrow and I was back. I didn’t want to be, but here I was, walking back into the library as slow as I could possibly manage because let’s face it, Luk was probably freaking late anyway.

  Imagine my surprise when I moseyed over to the table to find him already sitting there looking smug as hell.

  “You’re late,” he said through a smirk.

  I checked the cell phone in my hand. “Two minutes.”

  One of his thick eyebrows shot up and my stomach did that flippy thing again that made me want to hightail it right out of there. “But still late.”

  I rolled my eyes as I sat down. Great. We were off to a fantastic start. I’d spent the morning doing my own begging, but Madame Quattlebaum still insisted I help out. Because this was Alabama. Where football reigned supreme and we couldn’t have our star player at Summerville High school not playing because of his grades. The fate of our beloved Cavaliers would fall solely on my shoulders and Madame had no problem breaking that down for me.

  I looked at him again. Hard. It was okay. He wasn’t all of that and a bag of chips. I always pictured the guy I’d date would be super intelligent, anyway. Maybe an engineer type. Not a jock. I could do this. I would be the best French tutor ever in the shortest amount of time.

  “Well, let’s get started. Do you have your French book?”

  He leaned back in his chair and his big leg brushed mine and I felt goose bumps break out on my thigh. What in the hell was wrong with me and my stupid body? I jerked my knee away and cleared my throat.

  We got started. I was efficient. Professional. I didn’t giggle like some silly schoolgirl when he smiled. Which he did a lot. I was calling it a win.

  While Luk worked on a worksheet, I grabbed a bag of Skittles from my bookbag and opened them. I sat them on the table and a few spilled out.

  “Dibs,” Luk said quietly before grabbing a few from the table and shoving them into his gorgeous mouth.

  “You can’t call dibs on something that’s not yours.”

  I didn’t let anyone have my Skittles. Not even my baby brother, Ollie, who had me wrapped around his pinky finger.

  He didn’t say anything as he grabbed more and ate them one by one, smiling at me the whole time. I bet he got everything he wanted. I bet his parents were rich and his life was easy and no one had ever said you can’t have my tasty snack not one time in his entire privileged life.

  I’d only agreed to a thirty-minute tutoring session with Luk, but we ran over another thirty and the whole time I had to remind myself not to breathe too deep. Because goodness, he smelled good. Like the sunshine and pine trees and mint. It was like being in my grandma’s backyard right next to her herb garden. It was one of my most cherished childhood memories and I told myself it could be the only reason I liked his smell so much.

  I made sure we didn’t touch to keep those pesky goose bumps away that made girls full-on stupid. I made sure to not look at him too much. I made sure to hide the rest of my bag of Skittles.

  The truth was tutoring Luk wasn’t all that bad. He was smart and seemed like a genuinely nice guy. He had an easygoing personality and of course we all knew he wasn’t hard on the eyes. He was focused at least. I found teaching him French actually enjoyable and I never ever noticed his plump lips and the way they shaped around some of my most favorite French words. Never.

  And on that note, I closed my book. “Time’s up,” I squeaked out. We both stood up too quickly at the same time, and my forehead collided with some part of his large noggin.

  “Ow.” I rubbed the front of my head and looked at him to find him sheepishly smiling while holding the side of his head. “Sorry.”

  “Nah, it was my fault.” He packed everything up in his bookbag and I did the same, making sure to keep my eyes to myself. It was hard. A boy had never caught my attention before and it seemed Luk had it in spades. It didn’t help that he was so nice and not at all the douchebag I thought he was. I had a feeling this was going to be the longest semester of my life.

  Pushing my frizzy hair behind my ears, I made my way to the library exit, deciding that the best course of action was to get the heck out of there.

  “Hey, wait up.”

  I turned and there he was, every glorious inch of him. And he was smiling at me. And his teeth were perfect and his hair was sublime, hanging just a little over his eyes. It just wasn’t fair.

  I raised my eyebrows in response because that was all I had. That smile had rendered me speechless and that was saying something because I was what my mom liked to call the mouth of the south because while I was on the quiet side, when I really had something to say I let it fly.

  He walked forward until he stood next to me. “Can I give you a ride home?”

  He was still doing that sweet smiling thing that made my heart go pitter-patter and my hands sweat. How dare he ask it so casually? So nonchalant that for a second I almost believed it wasn’t a big deal if I got in his old blue Ford truck that he parked in the senior lot every morning.

  The car he drove older, more experienced girls his own age around in. Hypothetical girls, of course, because I didn’t watch him. Ever.

  My lips trembled as I tried to force a small smile and tucked my fingers under the bookbag straps at my shoulders. “No, thanks. I only live a couple of blocks away. I’m fine to walk.” I shot him another quivery smile before pushing the double doors open, but I didn’t get very far.

  “Come on, Red. I don’t mind. It’s the least I could do. And it’s getting dark out already.”

  Red. If my entire body could have eye rolled then it just did. Unfreakingbelievable. Was he kidding me? I scoffed before turning to give him a look. I realized real quick in that moment that Luk was far from perfect and I’d never been so relieved. Maybe this whole crazy crush thing would take a hike. “How very typical of you, Luk. I’ve never heard that one at all before.” My voice was thick with sarcasm. “Red? Is that the best you got, Mister Quarterback?”

  His smile disappeared even as a slow smirk appeared. With eyebrows raised he said, “Mister Quarterback? How original. And you’re giving me shit?” He shook his head like he couldn’t believe it.

  After our tutoring session I’d come to the conclusion that Luk was far too smart to be so cliché. I’d been so very wrong. Like I hadn’t heard Red before. It was time to go. And I had to get home before it really did get dark and my daddy lost his mind.

  “Night, Luk.” The humid Alabama heat smacked me in the face, practically taking my breath away.

  “Hey, Red!” Luk called out from behind me.

  I turned my body but kept on walking backward slowly. I really did have to get home. I smiled sardonically. “I bet you don’t even know my real name.”

  He ran a hand through that thick mane of hair and pursed his lips. “Of course I do. Your name is Scarlett.” His eyebrows danced and he grinned at me and God he was cute.

  It was time to get the hell out of there.

  I spun around and picked up speed, but there was no escaping Luk. He jogged to
catch up to me and fell into step beside me. I tried my best to ignore him, but he wouldn’t allow that either.

  “Red suits you, you know.”

  This time I actually did roll my eyes.

  His laugh was low. “It’s not just about your hair.” His eyes glanced over my frizz and I immediately felt self-conscious. But then his eyes met mine and he had that dang sweet grin on his face. “It’s your attitude. It’s just you. Red.”

  I wanted to roll my eyes again, but instead I asked, “How’s that, Mister Quarterback?”

  I didn’t look at him this time, instead opting for watching my white tennis shoes kick up asphalt on the school parking lot.

  He snickered before answering, but I didn’t dare look up. I could tell he was still grinning from ear to ear, so I kept my eyes on my shoelaces to keep my heart from beating out of my chest. “You’re a spitfire, feisty. Ya know. Red.”

  He said it so matter-of-fact. And I couldn’t even argue with him. In fact, the boy had me pegged. But that didn’t stop me from trying.

  “You think after one afternoon tutoring session you know me?” I sassed. And I realized this was totally the pot calling the kettle black, but man, I was grasping at straws. I didn’t want to like him. I didn’t want to think he was nice and funny and sweet enough to offer me a ride home. It was all too much.

  I could feel his eyes boring into the side of my face, but I made sure not to look at him. “Scarlett.” He said my name so quietly I almost thought I didn’t hear him. I thought maybe I was mistaken until he said it again, this time grabbing my arm to stop me from walking. “Scarlett,” he said softly again and boy my name was loaded. It said all kinds of things. Like stop walking and look at me.

  So against my better judgment I lifted my eyes to his and we were so close I could see each individual beautiful eyelash that surrounded his baby browns. I could smell that minty pine scent again and had the urge to close my eyes, but I didn’t. I just stared up at him, begging him to say anything so I could leave.