Crave (Harlequin Teen)

usual unlocking routine. And yet, I had a feeling nothing would be normal about our routine ever again.
    He followed me into the office, grunting a little as he picked up the sound system.
    He’d never acted like the sound system was heavy before. Distracted, I raised my eyebrows in silent question.
    “Heavy today,” he muttered with a half grin.
    “Uh-huh, let me see.” I took the MegaVox case from him and lifted it with just two fingers. “No, it’s lighter today, actually.” Just to be sure, I opened the hard plastic lid and peeked inside. Yep, the fifty-pound MegaVox was still in there. Hmm, weird. Snapping the lid shut, I handed the case back, and he oomphed again.
    “What’s the matter, didn’t eat your Wheaties this morning?” I teased as we headed down the stairs. But my mind was focused on yesterday’s talk with Anne. She and I had to be wrong. Nothing about Tristan’s facial expression or actions was anything like how Greg and the algebra boys had appeared. Still, Anne was more objective than me, and even she thought Tristan had to be gaze dazed. So he must be. Right?
    “Didn’t get much rest this weekend,” Tristan replied. “Which reminds me…how’s your dad taking the news that you won’t be moving in with him?”
    My brain blanked out again. “He’s out of town for a while. But how… Did you talk to Anne?”
    “No.” He reached the bottom of the stairs, standing so close I had to tilt my head back to look up at him.
    “Then how did you…?” The dream. Our minds really had been connected.
    He smiled down at me, a soft smile that made me feel shaky inside. “I told you Friday night in our dream.” He gave me a quick peck on my lips that robbed me of thought yet again. “Uh, not to sound less than manly here, but we should get moving before I drop this stuff. I swear it really is heavier today.”
    In stunned silence, I followed him out of the building. As we walked down the campus road, the wind made the woods at our right sigh and sway just like the trees had in our dreams together. I replayed every dream conversation we’d had, alternately fighting a blush or a groan at each thing I remembered saying to him. I would never wear just a T-shirt to bed again.
    And then I remembered something else, and the words just blurted right out of me. “So you fought Dylan because of me.”
    “Yep. He was being an ass, saying stuff about you. He’s lucky I didn’t bust his lip while I was at it.”
    Which meant in a way, he’d lost the ability to play football for the entire last month of the season because of me. While the trees still blocked us from the view of the practice field, I reached over and wrapped an arm around Tristan’s waist, giving him a long sideways hug. I felt him kiss the top of my head then murmur, “Like I said, I shouldn’t have lost control. It was my fault for letting him rile me up like that.”
    Then the trees ended and we had to step away from each other and pretend we were nothing more than a head manager walking with one of her managers. It felt like I was ripping off my arm.
     
    It took more effort than usual to hide my feelings for Tristan during practice. Every few seconds, my gaze strayed over to him. And every time I saw him, I thought about kissing him, dancing with him, lying on a blanket with him by a stream in my dream. Make that our dream.
    I really wanted Anne and me to be wrong about Tristan being gaze dazed. Over and over, I compared his actions to the others’ after making eye contact with me. They just didn’t match. With Greg, I’d known almost right away that making eye contact with him had changed him. But the only difference Tristan had shown after making eye contact with me was his desire to date me. Even before our kiss in the uniform closet, he’d constantly found ways to touch me or be close to me. Granted, that might be a leftover effect from when we’d made eye contact in September. But he hadn’t attempted to see me or even talk to me for weeks after the first eye contact. So how could he have been gaze dazed then?
    Dimly I heard someone yell out my name. I glanced around for the source then jumped as someone shouted my name again. It came from the MegaVox. I looked up at the bleachers to find an exasperated Mrs. Daniels staring down at me. Uh-oh. No telling how long she’d had to yell to get my attention.
    Heat flared into my cheeks as I refocused on running the music for the dancers. Crap. Had everyone on the