Stealing for Keeps (Frost Lake High Book 1)
Stealing for Keeps: Chapter 12

The following day, I don’t see Austin until art class. He wasn’t with Rowan at lunch, and I haven’t caught so much as a glimpse of him in the hallway. I wondered if he was even at school today, but then I overheard a group of freshman girls talking about how good he looked in the purple shirt.

I’m embarrassed to admit I knew without a lot of thought that he hadn’t worn purple all week. I wasn’t aware that I was tracking his outfits like some sort of fan girl, but maybe I do have a teeny-tiny fleck of interest when it comes to the new guy.

He’s kind of hard not to notice, considering the entire school is obsessed with him. My interest isn’t about that though. It’s not because he’s easily one of the hottest guys at school, though he is. It’s not because he’s talented and cocky, but again—he is. It’s little things. How he spent last night at the carnival with his little brother instead of his teammates. And the way he always seems to know what I need—a chair to prop up my foot or a goldfish because mine is being held hostage at my dad’s house.

I didn’t even realize I missed the fish until I was holding Captain Dash in my hands. I like how low-maintenance fish are, just chilling in their bowl, waiting for food.

I set up my fish last night and then promptly took a photo to send Dad to let him know we were now twins. He sent back a selfie of him giving a thumbs-up with Princess Goldiefin in the background. I’m surprised the thing is still alive.

I never really wanted to leave her, but it didn’t seem right to take my fish when every other living thing in the house was leaving. And Dad had liked the fish more than Mom did anyway.

Maybe they’re small, but Austin seems to notice things that other people don’t. I like that about him.

And the second he appears in the classroom, wearing a light purple shirt that sparks the green in his eyes, I have to admit that one: the freshmen girls were right, and two: I more than like him. I have a full-blown crush.

The bell rings as soon as Austin slides into his seat.

“Hey,” I say in the exact same way I have all week. Except today the excitement thrumming through my veins is notched up a level. I like him. What’s the use in fighting it? Maybe this could be something. If nothing else, some flirting and fun getting to know each other better.

Except Austin doesn’t look nearly as happy to see me as I am him. He barely looks at me as he gives me an errant chin dip.

“Hey.” Even his tone is off.

My stomach drops, and my face warms with unexplained embarrassment like I’ve done something wrong, only I don’t know what I did. Austin continues to stare toward the front of the class. Taking a deep breath, I try to shake it off. Maybe it’s not me and he’s just having a bad day.

Mrs. Randolph takes her place in front of the blackboard and begins explaining our first big assignment of the quarter. I’m listening but watching Austin out of the corner of my eye.

His body language is casual and disinterested in everything happening around him. He’s got a black pen in his right hand, and he absently scribbles on the front cover of his sketch pad.

I take out my notebook under the guise of taking notes on the assignment but instead write out Everything okay? and slide my notebook in front of him.

His gaze slowly flicks from his notebook to mine, and then he nods. A half smile pulls up one side of his mouth, easing my worry and confusion.

“Yeah, all good,” he says quietly.

I write off the whole encounter, but when Mrs. Randolph tells us we’ll be working with partners for the assignment, Austin won’t meet my eye.

Heat creeps up my neck, and I try to play it off like I didn’t assume we’d work together.

He glances around like he’s hoping to work with someone else, but neither of us have really talked to anyone else since the start of the class, so it’s unsurprising when they all pair up and we’re the last two left.

“Everyone got their partner?” Mrs. Randolph asks.

Austin finally turns and looks at me. My cheeks are hot, and I’m certain my face is painted bright red.

“Austin? Claire? All set?” Mrs. Randolph asks.

Everyone looks toward us.

I’d honestly rather work on it by myself than with someone who clearly doesn’t want to be my partner, but when Austin says, “All set,” I don’t see how I can get out of it without seeming like he’s hurt my feelings. Either I have seriously misread his signals, or something is up.

“Great. You can use the rest of class to get started.” Before Mrs. Randolph has finished speaking, people are already moving around, dragging chairs closer and talking to their partners. “You’ll have some class time to work on it each week, but you’re probably going to need to replace times to get together outside class. This is a big project and a significant portion of your grade. Have fun with it!”

Her smile is meant to be reassuring, but I am filled with dread as she takes a seat behind her desk, leaving us to begin. An awkward silence hangs between me and Austin while everyone else starts talking about the project and how they’re going to break it down.

In any other circumstance, I’d be excited. It’s essentially an art show. Eight pieces, four each, with a cohesive theme and feel. We also have to put together a marketing plan: flyers, social media campaign, etc. In terms of homework and school assignments, it’s not as terrible as writing papers or studying for a test. But the weird shift in Austin’s attitude today makes me wish for a fifteen-page research paper instead.

“So…” I say, trying to sound like I am completely unaffected by whatever his deal is. “Any ideas?”

Surprisingly, he does have some. We spend the class coming up with a concept we both like and deciding on our eight show pieces. His love of sketching and my love of painting are harder to combine in a way that feels like one collection, but when we have it all outlined, the weird tension has shifted.

It’s only when we’re smiling at each other, both excited about the project, that he slips back into the Austin who suddenly doesn’t seem to want to be near me. Like he’s controlled by a switch, his smile falls and his gaze drops. “I think we got it.” His voice takes on that distant, bored monotone again. “I’ll get started on my pieces tonight.”

I have no idea what to think about his sudden personality changes, but I decide that I’m not going to let it get to me. He’s just another immature boy, and my crush…definitely crushed. I must have imagined his sweet and charming traits, because this guy is far too much like all the others in this school: hot one minute, cold the next, and always wanting what they don’t have. I am not playing that game again.

“We should probably work on them together. At least in the beginning to make sure it works the way we think it will,” I say. I’m not letting his crummy attitude earn me a bad grade. My mom is already on me about not having the GPA or course schedule to impress colleges.

His green gaze pierces into me, making my nerves jump around. He nods slowly. “Okay.”

“What about after school today?” I suggest.

“I have practice.”

“After that?”

His stare is blank, but eventually he nods again. “Sure.”

“Do you want to come over to my place? My sister has dance rehearsals, so we’ll have the place to ourselves.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I realize how they might sound and want to groan. I keep smiling like it is no big deal. It’s not. We’re just working on a project together.

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Okay. Text me the address.”

The bell rings, and he stands up so fast, his chair almost falls to the ground.

By the time I make it to my locker, the halls are filled with people. Austin is leaning against his locker, looking far happier than he had all class. Sophie stands in front of him, Rowan and Vaughn off to the side. They all laugh, then Sophie leans forward and touches Austin’s arm. A flicker of annoyance passes through me. I stop at my locker to get my notebook for my next class, but I watch them out of the corner of my eye. Sophie eventually walks off, and as does Rowan. It’s just Vaughn and Austin. My ex and my…art class partner.

Austin is taller and his dark hair is longer. Vaughn is broader and his features harder. They’re each handsome in their own way, but seeing them together, it’s hard to imagine a time that I thought no one could ever compete with Vaughn.

I slam my locker closed. Nope. Not handsome and not interested.

I repeat that lie to myself the rest of the day.

* * *

“The guy couldn’t get away from me fast enough,” I say to Lacey as I walk around my bedroom. She just finished cheer practice, and I’m video chatting with her while I nervously pace and wait for Austin to arrive.

“Maybe he was just having an off day.”

“No.” I shake my head. “Something is different. He would barely look at me.”

“Maybe Vaughn?”

I still and consider that. “No. Austin all but told me he didn’t care what Vaughn thought.”

“Yeah but…”

“But what?” I ask when she doesn’t immediately finish her statement.

“I didn’t want to say anything, but rumor around school is that the entire soccer team was hazing Austin pretty hard until the Meet the Knights scrimmage.”

“Why?”

“Why do boys do anything? Vaughn was clearly mad that Austin was moving in on his girl.”

“I am not his girl,” I say immediately.

I walk over to my bed and sit on the end. I knew Vaughn was pissed the night of Doyle’s party, but that was weeks ago. “I’m not sure that’s it. I saw them today at school. They seemed fine. Better than fine. They were friendly.”

“Doesn’t that seem suspicious? The day he starts acting chummy with Vaughn, he also starts avoiding you?”

I pause and reconsider the past few weeks. Austin and Rowan sitting with us at lunch instead of the rest of the team. Austin hanging out with his brother at the carnival. A text notification comes in on my phone.

Austin: Outside.

“I gotta go,” I tell Lacey. “He’s early.”

“Call me later,” she blurts out before I can hang up the phone.

I hustle downstairs and to the front door, but before pulling it open, I take a deep breath.

When I do open the door, Austin is standing on the other side. His head is down, looking at his phone, and his smile is carefree. As soon as he glances up at me, it disappears.

The embarrassment and irritation I feel at him treating me so coolly are almost enough for me to turn him away, but I need answers.

“Hey. Come in,” I say.

He steps in, gaze tipping up to look around. “What do your parents do?”

“My dad is a financial advisor, and my mom is a real estate agent.” The house is big. Way bigger than the one I grew up in as a kid. It was a foreclosure, and Mom got a good deal from the bank. I used to joke with Lacey that it was haunted by the ghost of other people’s crushed dreams. Now they’re just my dreams that haunt it.

“I thought we could work in my room.” I take off without waiting for his agreement. Every step, I get a little bit angrier. Who does Vaughn think he is? And why the hell would Austin listen to him?

I sit down on my bed and don’t bother to watch as he comes in and sets his backpack on the ground. I don’t care if he’s comfortable. We’re going to get through this and then hopefully not need to work together anymore. He can do his pieces, I’ll do mine, and we’ll divide up the rest.

“Wow. That’s a lot of trophies.”

When I glance up, he’s standing in front of my dresser, where all my skating trophies are displayed, with his back to me.

I ignore his comment and dive right into the project. “Do you think we should do a social media campaign or keep it grassroots?”

“The latter, for sure.” He turns to me. “Much artsier. Maybe we could have a secret password to get in too.”

I start to smile at the idea but I catch myself. “That isn’t a terrible idea.”

Austin walks over to the bed but then hesitates before he sits as far away from me as possible. He’s so close to the edge that it’s almost laughable. But it confirms what Lacey suggested. I don’t know why I didn’t want to believe it. Maybe I hoped Austin wouldn’t be so eager to stay away from me just because of Vaughn.

He was so convincing that night we kissed, pretending like he didn’t care what Vaughn or anyone else thought. I think his exact words were “He’ll get over it.” Clearly not.

The whole thing makes me want to scream. At myself and at him. Instead, I scoot closer. I need to know for sure what’s happening here.

“You’re really good at this,” I say, forcing my voice to be much sweeter than I feel. I reach out and place a hand on his forearm. He visibly flinches at the contact but remains still. His skin is warm under my touch, and my fingertips tingle.

“Thanks.” He stands again and goes over to his backpack to retrieve his notebook and a pen. When he comes back, he doesn’t sit. Instead, he goes over to the desk and grabs the chair, pulls it a foot from the bed and then sits.

The frustration that’s been sitting on my chest all day loosens. This is ridiculous.

“It’s kind of hot in here, isn’t it?” I ask as I get to my feet and go over to my window. It isn’t. The air-conditioning is blasting so cold I put on a sweatshirt over my tank top when I got home. I open the window anyway and then turn to face Austin as I pull the sweatshirt over my head. My tank top rides up with it all the way to the band of my bra. Not planned, but it helps my plan, and Austin’s gaze gets stuck on the bare skin above my belly button. His throat works with a swallow, and his eyes widen. It would be funny if I weren’t vibrating with anger.

“Oops.” I pull the fabric down too far, and it dips at my cleavage. I almost feel sorry for him. Almost. I sit back on the bed and lean forward, giving him what I am sure is an eyeful. “So…”

He says nothing for too long, and the atmosphere in the room is heavy with tension.

“Austin?”

“Hmm.” His gaze slowly moves up to my face, then he scowls and looks down at his notebook.

Okay, so he’s still into me. Or embarrassed for me because I’m all but flashing him. I want to face-palm. This is so dumb and equally infuriating. What am I trying to prove? He’s a straight teenage guy. Of course he’s going to look if I take off my clothes. That doesn’t mean he likes me.

And who cares if Vaughn told him to stay away from me or he decided on his own that he wasn’t interested in me anymore? Either way, I just want to crawl under the covers and wallow in my stupidity for thinking he was different.

“Any suggestions for the secret password?” he asks as he doodles absently, clearly avoiding looking at me.

“Boys suck,” I mutter softly.

“What’s that?” His light green eyes replace mine in question.

“Nothing. I will think on it.”

For the next five minutes, we manage to talk about our project. We come up with some ideas and split the work between us. My mood has gone from annoyed to disappointed.

“I guess that’s it,” I say when we both fall silent. I get up from the bed and take my stuff over to my desk. The backs of my eyes prick with tears, and I want to cry or yell. This year is starting off all wrong. Junior year was supposed to be a new start. No skating, no boyfriend, just me and whatever I wanted it to be. The problem is I don’t know who I am without those things.

Austin is slow to get up and even slower as he grabs his backpack and walks to the door. “Well…I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sure,” I say without looking at him.

He doesn’t move, and I don’t glance his way. Instead, I walk over to my new fish and toss a few flakes of food into his bowl. He rushes to the surface, and a smile spreads across my face.

“Is that the fish from last night?” he asks.

“Yep. Captain Dash.”

“You really named him that?” Some of that easygoing friendliness I’d grown used to is back in his tone.

“Of course.” I finally glance over my shoulder.

Austin stands in the doorway, backpack over one shoulder, looking conflicted. “Wyatt will be thrilled. He asked me about a million times this morning if I knew how your fish was doing.”

“You can tell him he’s doing great.”

“Or you could tell him.”

My brows tug together. “What do you mean?”

“We could hang together at my place tomorrow.” He shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “I know we have it all basically outlined, but it might be nice to work on the pieces together.”

“I don’t get you.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, but it feels good, so I keep going. “One day, you’re flirting with me, inviting me out, and winning me a fish, and the next, you can barely look at me. Now you want me to come over to your house?”

“I’m sorry.” Both hands wrap around one strap of his backpack, and he steps forward. “It’s just…” He struggles to continue, finally saying, “Soccer is everything to me. My family gave up a lot to move here for me. I can’t risk it.”

“And I’m a risk?”

“Vaughn—”

The second his name is out in the air, I decide I don’t need to know.

I hold up a hand. “You don’t have to explain. I got it.”

“Claire…”

“It’s cool. Really. I understand.” The thing is I do. It’s exactly what Vaughn did, always choosing soccer and the team over me when he had to make a choice. I’m not even sure it was the wrong decision, but it still hurts.

“I’m really sorry. I’d like it if we could be friends?” He removes one hand from his backpack and holds it out to me with a sheepish smile on his face.

I fight the disappointment that settles like a pit in my stomach, then slip my hand into his, ignoring the zap of electricity that shoots up my arm as his fingers close over mine. “Friends.”