"I wouldn't say I was Stillburrow's poster child. I wouldn't say that at all."

I lifted one eyebrow as if to disagree, when, well...OK, I totally disagreed. "But you're the one everyone cheers for." To this day, I don't know what possessed me to be so rude to him. My blood was still pumping to the wrong parts of my body, bypassing the pathway to my brain, I guess. If only he had some flaws. Then maybe I would've let up. But the impact he had on me felt so alarming my "fight or flight" instincts kicked in. So I fought the feeling. Frantically. 15

The Stillburrow Crush

by Linda Kage

"It's your name written on all the posters on Main Street, and you're the one who's mentioned in the headline of every football article. It's you who—"

"Hey, you're the editor of said paper, not me." He took a step toward me, pointing a finger at my chest, looming even taller. "If you don't want me in every article then you should—"

"I don't usually write the sports section," I said through gritted teeth. "And as I was saying before you interrupted, this town's never paid so much attention to football until this year. It all adds up. You're the quarterback, the team captain. And tonight we beat Valley, which we haven't done since 1996."

"It wasn't one against eleven out there tonight. It was eleven against eleven. We all played our hearts out. I couldn't have done anything without my teammates. They," he paused to jab his finger toward the locker room door, "are the ones who made me look good, not the other way around. I don't like how you're making me out to be so self-centered. We played like a team, won like a team, and I was just a part of that. It wasn't me. It was everyone. And I'm proud of every guy that stepped onto the field. We deserved that win." He was shouting by the time he'd finished.

His lips trembled, and I wondered what they'd feel like. Right then, they'd be hot and moist and passionate. My breath caught, and I made myself calm down, made myself think logically. I took a step back. I'd never kissed anyone before or been kissed. And whatever force had caused me to 16

The Stillburrow Crush

by Linda Kage

dream about a little lip action right then, and with Luke Carter at that, really freaked me out.

I glanced down at the notebook and realized I'd copied what he'd said.

"Is that your official quote?" I asked after a long, steadying breath.

He shook his head as if to clear it. "What?"

"That was a good speech, Carter." I tried to ignore the persistent thump in my chest. "Can I put it in the paper?" He didn't answer, and when I risked looking up, he stared at me with his mouth opened in a surprised O. He stood so close I could feel his heat. He smelled musky, like he'd soaked in the scent of the air right before a warm summer rain. I wanted to run away. And I wanted to move closer.

"Hey, Carter! Great game."

We both jumped and spun toward Coach Newell as he jogged over and slapped a hand to Luke's back. "Best moves I've seen on the field since I started coaching." He looked at me. "Dean Paxton's girl, right?" His voice had an echoing boom to it.

"Yes, sir." I stood up, straightening my back, thinking this barrel-chested man could be a great drill sergeant.

"Doing an article for the paper?" he asked. I nodded.

"Well, I've got a load of quotes for you tonight." Even his smile seemed to roar. He started in, his voice thundering with each statement. I jotted down sentences madly, trying to keep up, but not listening to a word he said. Luke left in the middle of it, escaping inside the gym. I felt an odd mixture of panic and release as he faded off. 17

The Stillburrow Crush

by Linda Kage

When Coach Newell finished, he asked if I had enough for an article. I said I had enough for a novel and he hooted, throwing back his head to let out a resounding laugh. Obviously, he liked the sound of that and asked if he'd get his picture on the cover. I don't remember how I responded but it caused him to chortle again. Then he pummeled me on the back with the palm of his hand, knocking me off balance, and sent me on my way.

With pages full of quotes, I searched for Marty. My shaking hands cramped from gripping my notebook too tight.

"Way to go, Carrie," I muttered to myself, forgetting Coach Newell and thinking only of the almost-interview before that.

"Get a crush on the best looking, most popular, rich boy in school. How original."

When I caught sight of my brother, I pulled up short. Marty stood amidst a group of people, but it wasn't his normal group. He usually hung out with other class-clown types, goof-offs and dropouts. But this night, he was surrounded by a bunch of cheerleaders. And the main focus of his attention was Abby Eggrow. He'd been working at Getty's General for a few months as the bagger and Abby Eggrow just so happened to be the cashier there. I knew he'd been interested in her, but seeing them together with my own eyes was something else altogether.

I had no idea what was going on in his mind. Why was he putting the moves on her of all people? Abby was one of the privileged elite who had money and a future. She was five years younger than Marty, a year older than me, and everyone in town knew her plans. Next year she was going off 18

The Stillburrow Crush

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to college to become a doctor. Marty's big plans involved saving most of his weekly earnings to party with his friends on the weekend.

Yes, what a pair they made. Seeing Abby smile up at my brother was like seeing a full carat diamond set in a plastic ring from a Cracker Jack box. It was like seeing me hooked up with Luke Carter.

I clutched my notebook to my chest and waited until Marty glanced over and saw me. When he did, his smile faded a little. He reached for Abby's elbow and bent over her as he spoke. From where I stood, I couldn't tell exactly what happened next. But Abby rose on her toes and either whispered something in his ear or kissed him on the cheek. Either way, Marty ogled her like a lovesick idiot when she pulled away. Then he bowed his head and turned toward me. I couldn't blame him too much, though. I mean, hadn't I just done basically the same thing? I'd spent the last twenty minutes gawking at Luke Carter. Of course, unlike Marty, I knew I had no chance with Luke.

"Done with your little interview already?" he asked, striding past me and hopping into the cab of his truck. He started the engine as I climbed into the passenger side.

"Yes," I said, and slammed the door. "Are you finished flirting with all the cheerleaders yet?" I glanced over and smirked when he frowned.

"Did Carter dazzle you with a bunch of cute quotes?" he shot back.

Refusing to rise to his bait, I faced forward and crossed my arms over my chest. "Don't forget you're taking me into 19

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Paulbrook tomorrow so I can turn in next week's paper to get printed."

Marty snickered, probably thinking he'd just scored a major point, and shifted the car into drive. I had to hold onto the door's armrest for dear life as he roared out of the parking spot.

"I've got to work tomorrow," he answered, and lifted a few fingers to wave at the cheerleaders we passed. I rolled my eyes when a few waved back. "Well, when do you get out?"

He sighed. "Two."

"Then pick me up at two thirty."

"I'm not your chauffeur."

"I know. It's worse. You're my brother."