*.*.*.*.*.*

September 27

Marla nudges me with her elbow and I look up from my phone to see her nodding towards the cafeteria entrance. I follow her gaze and see Riley entering alone this time. She looks over and our eyes meet.

I don't blink or avert my gaze, but she does, blinking and looking away as if we're strangers she doesn't want to interact with. It doesn't come as a surprise anymore. When we'd come to school yesterday, we'd expected Riley to ask us why Marla and I hadn't come to school on Wednesday. She didn't ask us anything or even have lunch with us, and when Racheal told us that she's started sitting with another girl at a table closer to Carlos', both Marla and I knew the matter was out of our hands.

"How can she not see it?" Marla asks.

Riley walks toward the opposite end of the cafeteria and sits down with a girl who looks as shady as Slim Shady can be.

"He's tearing her away from her friends but he won't even have her at the same table as himself."

"He's isolating her so that she's an easy target," Racheal agrees.

Not saying anything, I turn to look at the empty table of the football players. They're not here today, probably busy in the preparations for tonight's match. They had lost last Friday because Carlos messed up. Some people -- or most of them -- believe that Shane's injury has caused the team's downfall. He's not as bulky as many of the other guys, but his agility works in his strength. He's fast and coordinated, always there to save the team.

"What do we do?" Racheal asks.

Sighing, I look down at my game.

"Not much we can do," Marla says. "Riley can handle herself."

"But --"

"We tried, okay?" Marla snaps. "Taylor went to see her shithole of a dad to make sure Riley stays safe."

"We can talk to a teacher," I suggest.

"And what will that do? Honestly, Tay, just let her go to hell. She's basically pretending we're not even her friends so why even bother?"

"Because we are her friends whether she admits it or not," I argue, looking up and meeting Marla's brown eyes. "She's being dumb. That doesn't mean we sit back and wait for her to either get raped or become a druggie. That's not what friends do."

Marla purses her lips, looking like she wants to disagree with me but can't.

"I have an idea," I say, sitting up and looking around the cafe.

I don't see the face I'm searching for and I have no clue where I might be able to find him. Regardless, though, if anyone knows Carlos, it's Shane.

"Where are you going?" Racheal asks me when I stand up.

"I'll see you guys after the game," I say, pulling my bag over my shoulder and looking around. "Don't save a seat for me."

My plan is simple. I need to get to someone I know might be able to watch out for Riley. If Carlos is messing with Riley and using her, his friends are bound to know something about it. Even if the others don't, Shane just has to. He's always with Carlos.

He isn't today, and after making sure he isn't anywhere near the football grounds or in the bleachers, I make my way towards the library where I had seen him a few weeks ago. The library is deserted and when I make it out of it, I see all the students filing out of school for the game. Loud cheering accompanies, the sound fading away when I head opposite the crowd, scanning the faces but mostly the legs. As creepy as it might be, I'm sure Shane's cast will be easier to spot than his face.

Just when I'm about to give up, I push open a classroom door and find him sitting at one of the tables with his laptop open before him and his bad leg propped up on another chair. He looks up when he hears the door open.

"Taylor?" He smiles. "How is that you always know where to find me?"

I close the door softly behind me, walking down the aisle between the rows of chairs.

"Is it because we have similar hiding spots?" He raises his eyebrows, a smile playing along his lips. "Or maybe we're somehow mentally synched or something."

"We're not werewolves so I'm pretty sure telepathy like that won't work," I say, pulling a chair and sitting down a few seats from Shane.

He laughs. "Okay, then, how did you find me?"

I shrug. "I was actually looking for you."

"Because of the lovely heart-to-heart chat we had last time or because --"

"I want to know about Carlos," I interrupt his joking. As much as I like talking to Shane for reasons unknown to me, I'm sure some teacher is going to drop by any minute now and rush us out of class and to the game. I might not get such a good chance to talk to Shane about Carlos again.

Shane's brow furrows. "What about him?"

"Do you know he's dating someone?" I ask.

Shane just looks confused. "Someone?"

"Yes, someone," I repeat.

Shane chuckles awkwardly. "Do you like him?"

"I'd rather die single," I answer evenly. "I'm asking for someone else."

"Well, um ..." Shane shifts in his seat. "He's got a girlfriend named Gemma."

It's my turn to frown. "Gemma?"

"She goes to another school but they're neighbors or something," Shane tells me. "But yes, he's dating someone."

I stare at Shane, seeing honesty reflected in his gray eyes.

"But ..." I try to collect my thoughts. "How come nobody knows about it?"

"Carlos doesn't want drama." Shane shrugs. "After the mess with Sarah, I think he just wants to keep his relationships on the low."

My breathing comes heavy and I'm pissed off, not knowing how to interpret this new piece of information. It doesn't make sense. Maybe Carlos is just leading Riley on while he continues to date Gemma behind everyone's back. But then again, he might just be using both girls -- or more -- while he continues to keep up his football-star image.

"Now that I've answered your question," Shane speaks up. "Can you return the favor by helping me figure out how to fill in this stupid application?"

I'm still wondering what he's talking about when he turns his laptop screen toward me, showing me a very familiar college application.

"Washington?" I note, surprised.

Shane nods, squinting at his screen. "It's got a kickass football team and I want to keep it on backup, you know? In case I don't get into Stanford."

"Are you kidding? You'll get into Stanford, no joke."

Getting up from my seat, I close the remaining distance between us and sit right next to Shane. I peek at his laptop, looking at everything he's filled in already. As far as his grades are concerned, they give me serious self-esteem issues. How is it normal for someone to have this many distinctions? His extra-curriculars have a long list I can't even begin to read, and his interests and personal statement are mind-blowing.

"I can't decide if I should --"

"Can you do me a favor and not apply at Washington?" I ask before I can stop myself.

Shane looks taken aback. "Why?"

"With applications like that," I point a thumb at his screen, "I'm pretty sure they're not going to let me in and I need to go to Washington."

Shane laughs, the light sound making me smile automatically. There's just something about Shane that lifts me. He's easy to talk to, polite and friendly, not at all like most of the people who make you feel like strangers. He's bright but not blinding like the sun, rather cool and comforting like the moon. The perfect blend of talent and humility.

"You're going to Washington for what, though?" he asks.

"Psychology," I answer without a beat.

Shane nods, looking impressed. "That's really cool. You'd make a great shrink."

I roll my eyes and scoff. "What are you applying for?"

"Law and international relations," he tells me. "My mom wants me to do something that will help with her company. Dad's got his hopes for me to make it to NFL and ..." He shrugs. "Both Stanford and Washington are good options for football and IR, you know."

"But what do you want to do?" I ask.

"I just told you --"

"You told me what your mom and dad want, not what you want," I point out.

Shane looks surprised, his eyes wide and lips parted. "Well, I ..." He frowns thoughtfully, tilting his head to one side with his eyebrows scrunched up. "Well, I've always like anthropology. Sociology, social work." He shrugs. "Something that involves meeting people and helping and making the world a better place."

"That explanation is so cliché," I tease.

He bursts out laughing. "Yeah, you're going to make a good shrink for sure," he comments, smiling. "Seriously, though, I'm just bullshitting you. I just like getting to know people, you know? Like ... looking past the appearances and knowing what really makes someone tick. Kind of like you telling me you want to study psychology. I've got this ... don't talk perfect to me shit. I'd rather know what's bothering someone than talk about ... the weather or ... their favorite color or ... you know?"

He raises his eyebrows and I smile. "You know?"

"You know?" he repeats, grinning wide.

"That's cool," I say, actually meaning it. "Unexpected but cool."

"Unexpected?"

"Yeah," I admit. "You don't usually talk like this so I wasn't expecting such a philosophical answer from you."

"Well, a smart person doesn't talk unless they have someone to really listen."

Shane smiles, his dimples visible so that I find my gaze traveling across his face and taking him in. His eyes the shade of stormy clouds, hair like chocolate, he's beautiful, he really is.

"What?" He laughs awkwardly, probably noticing me staring at him.

I smile. "You know?" I tease.

Shane laughs, closing his laptop and leaning back in his seat. "You know." He nods.

Smiling, we both slip into a comfortable silence, one that is as tranquil as it is surprising. It's strange how at ease I can be with the golden boy of our school. Maybe he's not just the golden boy then, and this is something I only realize when I'm alone with him. These rare few moments of one-on-one give me more insight into Shane as a person than three years of watching him from a distance and hearing about him from others has given me.

As expected, it's only a few moments later that the classroom door opens and a teacher starts telling us to go to the bleachers and watch the game. I turn to Shane to ask him if he need help but he's already on his feet. Neither Shane nor I argue with the teacher, picking up our things and leaving -- Shane limping -- the class together. Outside, we smile at each other and part ways, heading our own ways.

To fight our own battles.

*.*.*.*.*.*

A/N: I love Shane so damn much! He's just ... ugh! WTH it's not fair, I'll die alone.