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December always starts out warm in Florida. If anything, the temperature is finally bearable, and you can sit outside without breaking a sweat. That’s why we’re all getting ice cream—because now is the time when we can eat some of it before it melts. Imani and Jess sit with Margot and Keith while Matt and I sit with Izzy and Keith’s roommate . . . I think his name is Samuel . . . at a second table outside the Ben & Jerry’s on campus. Even though she isn’t sitting with me, she still looks over here at least seventeen times, and not knowing what she’s thinking is making me restless. I thought I could read Margot, but ever since our almost kiss, I’ve been second-guessing it.
She’s been avoiding me since Thanksgiving last week.
Well, she’s been avoiding me as much as she can anyway. There isn’t much she can do about the fact that we live six feet across from each other.
I guess I shouldn’t say she’s been avoiding me. It’s more that she has gone out of her way to not talk to me.
Her mouth has been avoiding me.
But her eyes have been doing the opposite.
Every time we’re in the same place—which let’s face it, is more than either of us would probably like at this point—I catch her looking at me. Sometimes she has a small frown on her lips like she’s trying to solve some type of complex equation in her head, but whenever I catch her, she quickly finds something else to hold her attention.
I catch her glancing at me again out of the corner of my eye.
Eat your damn ice cream, Red.
Keith briefly touches her on the arm, and my teeth drag over my plastic spoon. I’m not jealous, but this guy has no clue she isn’t interested, and it pisses me off that she isn’t being upfront with him.
Hell, it pisses me off that she isn’t being upfront with me.
He reaches for her hand, and she shifts out of his reach.
I have no idea what he says to her, but her cheeks flush, and she drops her gaze. He must have complimented her because I’m pretty sure I see her mouth form the words thank you, and I roll my eyes.
“What’s with you?” Matt asks, and I’m brought back to my own table.
“Nothing.” I know he can see straight through the lie, but I don’t care.
His gaze travels to the next table over, and he frowns. “Did something happen between you two on Thanksgiving or something? You’ve been acting weird about her ever since we got back.”
“No, I haven’t.” I don’t get weird around girls. If they don’t like me, I move on. I take another bite of my ice cream and hope this conversation is over.
“Yeah,” he says, driving the point home. “You have.” He glances in the direction of Margot and Keith before looking back at me. “You both have.”
I go to take a bite but lower my spoon. “Wait. You think she’s acting weird?”
Izzy watches our back and forth with eager eyes.
Matt practically groans as he grabs his backpack and gets to his feet. “I think something happened on Thanksgiving. I don’t know what, but you both are hung up on it.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know. I have to get to class, but figure it out. This might be more annoying than dealing with you two at each other’s throats all the time.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, glancing at Margot again. “On it.”
He lets out a breath of laughter and walks away, leaving me alone at the table with Samuel and Izzy, trying not to stare at the girl I’m apparently hung up on. Matt’s right. This past week, I’ve been distracted. I haven’t been as focused on my music, and the classes I go to can’t hold my attention for longer than a few minutes. As much as I try to stay on track, thoughts of the redhead across the hall always work their way in.
This meaningless back and forth needs to end. I’m done playing her game. If she wants to side-step around whatever this is, she can, but I’m done. I’m done trying to guess what she is or isn’t thinking.
I could have eaten the rest of my ice cream without looking at her, but then I see Keith grab his backpack out of the corner of my eye. He must have a class about to start, too.
Margot doesn’t gather her things. She doesn’t have a class right now. Her next class isn’t until later this afternoon, and it only bothers me a little that I know that.
I mean, we live right next to each other. That’s probably why I’ve accidently memorized her schedule.
Not because I’m in any way hung up on her.
Unable to tear my eyes away from their awkward exchange, I watch as Keith rubs the back of his neck. My knee bounces under the table. I don’t know why she won’t just tell him to back off, and I don’t know why he won’t just make a goddamn move so that she can tell him to back off.
