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Lynn’s lips tremble, but she keeps the straight face. “I mean, I would definitely bang him in secret and in public if he wanted, but that’s just me.”
“It’s not that simple.” I wipe tears from my face. “A guy like him could get his pick of girls. Cuter and nicer than me. And after what I did today, he probably hates me.”
“Oh?” She rests her chin on her hand, elbow on her knee.
I spill all the beans I’ve been holding. The Strikes are my friends, and they’d lap a tale like this up—if it didn’t involve a Thunder Bolt. And my high school friends are so busy, we rarely have time to text more than a few words at a time. That’s why I’ve had to keep all of this hush-hush. It’s killing me.
I give Lynn the highlights and lowlights, not even bothering to make myself look good in the story. I’ve been a mess, and I know it.
“Listen,” she says at the end. “If I’ve learned something about guys, it’s that they’re simple. Just ask him if he wants something with you or not. And if he does, then keep it all a secret. It’s no one else’s business who you get with.”
True. And if the teams don’t know… then World War III won’t start, and no one’s game will be affected.
“Thanks, Lynn.”
“And if it doesn’t work out, I’ll take him.”
I give her a sweet smile. “Sorry, but I intend to make it work.”
CHAPTER 21
MAX
The text from Tinker Bell catches me on my way back to my dorm after the game. I have my settings so I only get the notifications and who they’re from, but not the content of the texts. I learned the lesson the hard way once, after Leo caught the contents of a text from my ex and mocked me about it for days.
So I stand in the middle of the courtyard, staring at the screen. The decision was made before the beginning of time. I’ll read any text she sends me. Whether I have the backbone to reply is a different matter.
She… intimidates the hell out of me. A fact none of my boys can ever, ever find out about. I want to impress her. Be someone she can respect. And I keep putting my foot in my mouth, to the point that I know the taste as well as my mom’s marinara.
Sighing, I swipe the text open.
Sparks
On a scale from 1 to 100, how much do you hate me now?
I double-check to make sure it’s her, indeed. I saved her contact as Sparks because everyone knows I call her Tinker Bell. And there were definitely sparks when we made out.
Of all the things I might’ve expected, though, this isn’t one. I scratch my head and consider how to answer.
Me
100…
She sends back the wide-eyed emoji. My lips pull back in the kind of smile that riles her up.
Me
…percent don’t hate you at all
Why?
The three dots on her side appear and disappear a couple of times. I resume walking to the dorm, keeping one eye on the ground and one on the screen.
Whatever this is about, it takes her a while to figure out the wording. I make it into my room. Brett’s still at his desk, studying. He glances once at me, his mouth a downturned U that tells me he’s still throwing a hissy fit after our earlier conversation. I turn my back on him and open my closet.
My phone pings. I grab it, despite the fact that one of my arms is out of my suit jacket and the other one is still jammed in.
Sparks
