Page 12 of His Secret Santa
“Nothing.” Holden moved forward in line. “She was just being… herself.”
“Are you sure? Because I saw the look on your face. You looked… kind of… embarrassed and… a little horrified.”
“I wasn’t,” Holden lied.
“Why’d you take off like that, then?”
“Because I was sick of her crap,” Holden snapped back, more harshly than intended. “She’s an entitled bitch. Standing there and letting her dump on me in front of… everyone… just gives her what she wants. So, I left.”
Jamie cleared his throat. “Did she… say something about Lincoln?”
Holden jerked around. “Why would you think that?”
“I don’t know. It was that look on your face, I guess.”
Why didn’t he tell Jamie the truth? It wasn’t as if his friend would make it worse. But Jamie was right—he had felt embarrassed and horrified, mostly at the thought of Lincoln making fun of him behind his back. He knew the others made fun of him, but a tiny part of him clung to the belief—hope?—that Lincoln didn’t take part in those attacks.
Why does it even matter? It wasn’t as if he had a chance with Lincoln—even if the guy had been gay. He was so far out of Holden’s league that it was ridiculous to even fantasize about him. Even so, the fantasies were there to stay, he didn’t have the willpower to stop them. And after his experience at the strip club, they had intensified as he imagined Lincoln doing all the things to him the stripper had done.
“It doesn’t matter,” Holden whispered. “Lincoln isn’t real.”
“He isn’t real?”
“You know what I mean,” Holden said. “He’s a fantasy. In the real world, he may as well not exist. He…” Holden went silent when one of McKenna’s cheerleaders got into line behind him and Jamie. The one who was new to the squad—and the only one who didn’t seem to take pleasure in McKenna’s abuse of him and Jamie. But she was still a cheerleader, one of McKenna’s minions, and by definition, not to be trusted.
“Hey…” the cheerleader spoke softly, hesitantly.
Holden didn’t know if she was speaking to him or Jamie, but he didn’t turn around. He had no interest in anything she had to say.
Jamie responded, “You talking to us?”
“Yes.”
“What?” Jamie spoke with a hint of defensiveness; not for himself, but for Holden.
“I, uh…” The girl faltered. “Is he… all right?”
Holden felt both sets of eyes on his back.
“Do you care?” Jamie asked with a smidge of doubt.
“Yes.” She went quiet a moment, then spoke in a near whisper, “I don’t know why McKenna is so mean. She has everything; popularity, looks, the quarterback. I don’t know why she treats everyone else so badly.”
Holden cast a quick look behind him. Jamie just stared at the cheerleader. “Couldn’t you get kicked off the squad for talking to us?”
She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I’m thinking of quitting anyway. The other girls are almost as bad as McKenna. And everyone they hang out with… the football players… they’re all such… jerks.”
Jamie caught Holden’s eye and then asked the cheerleader, “What about Lincoln Pratt? Is he a jerk, too?”
No, Holden silently berated his friend, I don’t want to know. Just let me dream in ignorant bliss. It troubled Holden just how important it was to him that Lincoln not be an asshole like the others. When he first began fantasizing about the quarterback, it was purely sexual. He’d never meant to develop real feelings for the guy. But he was starting to realize that was precisely what was happening. Was that why he’d started avoiding Lincoln lately? When, at the start, he’d taken every opportunity to see him—to file away fuel for his fantasies.
Holden attempted to close his ears to the cheerleader’s answer but instead found himself straining to hear her every word.
“I… I don’t know, really,” she said softly. “He doesn’t say much when McKenna starts harassing the other students. Like today with… you guys.”
“Has he ever said anything jerky about Holden?”
At that, Holden tried again not to hear the answer. Wholly aware that he actually liked the quarterback, he didn’t want to know if Lincoln talked shit about him, fearing it might straight-up hurt.