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“Dude,” Derrik chimes in. “That was amazing.”
“Where did that come from?” EJ asks.
“I … I don’t know.”
“Not where,” Jade says. Leaning down from her seat, her eyes lock on to mine. “Who did that come from?”
I stare at her, confused for a moment. Both EJ and Derrik’s heads snap to her. I suddenly know what she means. Shaking my head vehemently, I try to cut her line of thinking down. “No. You’re crazy. No one inspired that line, it’s just … it’s something that’s been rattling around. I don’t know how I thought it up.”
“Uh-huh,” Derrik replies with a wide smirk. “I wonder, though. Would a certain elusive hotel heiress be an unknowing muse?”
Grabbing a drumstick, I throw it at him. He dodges just in time for it to crash in the wall behind him. “Bite me. Cece did not inspire that.”
“Oh, the muse has a name,” Jade teases.
“You guys are idiots. That girl controls zero real estate in my brain.”
“Let’s see,” EJ starts up. He taps his finger to his lips, offering a show of thought, but there’s a grin on his face. “She’s shot you down three times—”
“Four,” Derrik corrects, forcing me to grumble.
“Four times. And the last time she did it was after you went and declared your love for her.”
“I still need to meet this Cece. I mean, I’ve seen her online, but if she’s the one who’s finally stolen my brother’s heart—”
“You’re all nut jobs,” I yell at them, and Jade starts giggling. “I didn’t declare my love for her. I was throwing out a line, trying to get her attention.” Jade lifts an expectant eyebrow. “No. No, not trying to get her attention. I was trying to make sure she noticed me.”
“You’re not helping yourself,” Derrik says, laughing.
“Whatever!” I throw my hands in the air and head to the door. “I’m gonna go grab some lunch. And no, I’m not buying you guys anything!”
“But you lost the bet,” Derrik yells as I slam the door.
Leaning against it, I stare up at the spotlights lining the hallway ceiling. There’s no way Cece inspired those lyrics. It’s impossible. I’m not tripping over her and the fact that she’s taken the hard-to-get game to a professional level. She is not my white whale. I’m Maddox freakin’ Barkley, I have no white whales. They’ll see. Next time I see her, I’m getting her number. That way, I can prove I’m not obsessed with her. Because I’m not.
