“Both?” I say quietly, missing the warmth of her immediately when her arms slip off my waist. “But not the way you think. I promise I’m not cheating on Miguel.”

The lips I was just kissing twist into a little smirk. “You know, on that I actually believe you.”

“You do?” I mean, I know I’m telling the truth, but I get that it sounds shady.

“I do. For one handsome, long-lashed, silver-Malibu-driving reason.”

Oh. Well, hell. “You know.”

“I thought,” she admits. “Now I know.”

Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap. “Miguel is going to kill me.”

“I saw them,” she clarifies, putting a calming hand on my arm. “I mean, he said the guy was his cousin, but. Either way, it’s not your fault, and I hope you know I would never out him. Or you.”

Even if I didn’t know, the serious look on her face gives me confidence, and I want—I need—Miguel to see it too. It’s time to get at least one part of this right. Even if Miguel might want to kill me for other reasons. “Okay. So now that you know, I want him to know too. And I want you to get to know each other. What do you think of a double date? We can spend time together, you can make a friend on the team, Miguel and Malcolm can actually hang out with other people.…”

“Somehow I don’t think anyone on the Alligators wants to hang out with me socially, whether I’m dating his friend or not.” Her voice is dry, but the drop of hurt that seeps through goes right to my heart.

“This isn’t about football and cheerleading, or the Alligators, or anyone else,” I assure her, knotting my fingers with hers. “Four people, out having fun, getting to know each other. You want to get to know me, right? Miguel is a part of me. Besides, you want an ally on the team? He’s your best bet.”

“And you think he’ll be down for a double date?”

No. Yes. I don’t know. “The only thing I’m better at than cheerleading and kissing is wearing down Miguel Santiago.” That part, at least, I’m confident about. “Leave it to me.”

Even though all we wanna do is skip the rest of the day and spend it at Jack’s house, we manage to convince ourselves to get our asses off the couch and head back to school, separate cars and all. We’re just in time for lunch, where I manage to tug Miguel into a corner of the courtyard where we can speak privately.

“Okay, I have to ask you a favor, but I have to break a few things to you first,” I say before I can lose my nerve.