Nope, I don’t think so.
Besides, he doesn’t like me. He doesn’t even know I exist. This must be a trick. A set up of some sort. Are Jake and all of his jock friends asking the least popular senior girls to wear their jerseys so they can somehow mock us tomorrow?
If that’s the case, what a bunch of assholes.
“Did you really just turn me down?” Jake Callahan both sounds and appears mystified. I’m sure no girl at this school has ever refused him before.
Hmm. Maybe I deserve a medal.
“Yes, I did.” Swear to God, my fingers still tingle from where I touched him. He must give off some sort of magnetic field that’s irresistible to most humans. I can’t deny that he’s attractive, because yes.
Yes, he definitely is.
With the dark hair and the blue eyes, the granite jaw and the sharp cheekbones. Plus, he’s so freaking tall. Those broad shoulders and lean hips and long legs. He’s a god among us mortals, and I’m sure we’re supposed to bow at his feet and do what he requests, no questions asked.
Well, screw that. I trust no one. I certainly don’t trust some pretty jock who was dared by his friends to ask me to wear his jersey.
Please. I’m not that dumb.
“You’ll regret this,” he says, like some sort of threat. The arrogance on his face is obvious. He’s offended.
And I can’t help myself.
I start laughing.
Jake frowns. Glances over his shoulder, and I can only assume his friends are drawing near. He better watch out. I’m sure he doesn’t want them to see he’s getting turned down by a loser like me. “What the hell is so funny?” he asks, his voice like a hiss.
“You,” I say, my laughter eventually calming down. “Believing I should automatically say yes to your request. Telling me I’ll regret turning you down.” I throw up some quotation marks with my fingers around the word regret. “Do you think I’m some sort of joke?”
His frown deepens. “I never said you were a joke.”
“Please. I heard you and your friends talking about me.” Somewhat. This is more like pure speculation on my part. For once, I was alone at lunch. My best friends went to a club meeting I had zero interest in attending. I don’t mind being alone, especially when I’m halfway through a YA fantasy book I’m completely obsessed with.
“Spying on our conversation?” he asks, both eyebrows shooting up.
I scoff, glaring at him. I was reading said fantasy book when I heard Jake and his jock friends stop just behind me. My ears strained to hear exactly what they were saying, but I only caught snippets of their conversation. Pretty sure they practically dared Jake to ask me. Again, probably some kind of set up where I’m humiliated in front of the entire school a la Stephen King’s Carrie and nope, I’m not going to down that road. I’ve seen all three versions of the movie and read the book. Pig’s blood is not going to get poured on my head.
“God only knows what you had planned for me tomorrow,” I tell him, crossing my arms in the ultimate stay-away-from-me pose.
“Um, I was going to give you my jersey in the morning,” he says slowly, like I’m having trouble understanding him. “Clearly you don’t want to wear it.”
“Clearly.” I raise a single brow, my one facial expression talent. I practiced this move in front of a mirror for months until I finally nailed it.
“Sorry I asked.” His tone is snotty. Defensive.
“I’m sorry you asked too.” I sound pretty snotty and defensive myself. Cautiously, I back away from him as he takes a step forward. “Aren’t we done with this conversation?”
I see his pack of friends making their way toward us, giant smiles on their asshole faces. See? Jocks suck. They’re coming over here to watch us and mock me.
I need to get out of here.
“You have issues,” he says. I suppose for lack of any other reason that I said no.
“I do,” I agree with him. “One in particular. You.”
And with that, I turn and walk away.
Scratch that. I run away.
My heart is racing as I head for the library. Where did I come up with the balls to say something like that to Jake Callahan in the first place? So unlike me. Completely unlike me, really. I’m the quiet girl who remains in the background and tries her best to say nothing to anyone beyond her friends and teachers. I’m sure that’s why he didn’t recognize me at first. We’ve gone to school together since he moved here right before we started the seventh grade, but we’ve never spoken a word to each other before until today.
Like, why should he know who I am? We don’t run in the same social circles. I pretty much keep to myself, and I definitely stay out of other people’s business. I don’t have many friends.
And I like it that way.
Only one more year, and I’m out of here. My grades are stellar—my overall grade point average is 4.5, which means as long as things remain the same, I’ll graduate as a valedictorian. I’m also the poor girl with a sob story, and I’ve been working hard on the essay I need to submit along with my college applications since the end of junior year. I’m hoping I can get into any college I want.
I hope.
I pray.
And I’m not even a religious person.
Tugging hard on the heavy door, I enter the library, thankful for the cool rush of air coming from the vents directly above me. It’s quiet. I can hear the hum of the computers, the low murmurs of conversation from a nearby table where three people are sitting. I don’t recognize them and can only assume they’re underclassmen. Besides them, there aren’t any other students in here.
Typical.
I wave at Sonya the librarian as I walk past her desk. She’s eating a sandwich and scrolling on her phone, looking like everyone else at this school during lunch. She’s young, in her mid-twenties, and I love her pink hair that’s cut into a sleek bob.
Not that I could ever pull something off like that. I don’t want to draw anyone’s attention.
I go to the very back of the room and settle in at my favorite table, pulling out the book I was reading earlier and opening it to the page where I left off. I’m hungry, but I already ate what I packed for lunch during fourth period and my stomach is growling. I don’t have any money to buy something at the snack shack, so I’m screwed. I aimlessly dig through my backpack, hoping I can find an old forgotten granola bar or a bag of fruit snacks, or maybe even some change, but there’s nothing.
“Hey.”
Startled, I glance up to find Marty Torres smiling down at me. He’s one of my best friends. He’s really tall and super skinny and his Adam’s apple is huge, which I know makes him self-conscious, but I don’t even really notice it anymore. He’s a senior like me, and we became close since during our sophomore year, when we literally had every single class together.
Thank God we like each other, or it could’ve been awkward.
“Hi,” I say to him with a tiny smile as he sits in the chair across from me.
“I thought we were going to meet in the quad after I got out of the meeting.” His tone is vaguely accusatory. He suffers from social anxiety and the last place he ever wants to be is in the quad at lunch. He’s trying to get over his anxiety by easing into situations that make him uncomfortable, and like the shit friend I can sometimes be, I completely forgot.