Callie
“So, Saturday sucked,” Nolan opens, leaning up against the lockers next to mine with one leg bent, and looking like he’s posing for some emo rock band cover in his ripped jeans, tight V-neck white shirt, hooded jacket, and his blonde hair artful tussled to look like he just rolled out of bed.
Understatement of the millennium,I mentally snort, kneeling down in front of my bottom locker and dropping my backpack to the left side of me.
The rain from yesterday has shifted into a light drizzle this morning, the raindrops almost floating in the air and clinging to the fog. The tile floor is damp and mildly muddy from my locker mates that passed through before I got here.
“Which is why I could see you might be opposed to going to another party, but hear me out,” Nolan continues, his gaze carefully watching my profile.
“You can’t be serious,” I mutter, closing my eyes for a moment and trying to ignore the looks and whispers from the people around me.
It’s gotten worse since yesterday. Walking from the front door of the school to my locker has been like a wave of suspended silence, conversations freezing as I pass, and quickly picking up when I leave. Only when they think I can’t see them, do they start talking about me again. I feel like I have a stage spotlight following me around, and even though I don’t care what they think of me, I’m getting real tired of the staring.
“You’re going to ask her now?” Kaleb admonishes, standing on the other side of me with his arms crossed and dressed more plainly in a polo shirt and jeans.
Connor and Donovan complete the circle around my locker by standing behind me, but they’re too busy glaring at the people that haven’t stopped staring and whispering since I arrived at school to listen to the conversation. Connor’s in one of his never ending collection of flannel shirts, and Donovan is wearing another painted on Henley underneath his leather jacket; this one is a dark blue.
Felix is standing off to the side rubbing at the back of his neck; his attentions split between the gossipers and us. This morning he thought it’d be funny to dress in a Casper the Friendly Ghost T-shirt, but the humor has since drained from his face.
Nolan huffs. “It’s better I ask now than spring it on her later.”
I sigh and stand up, wiping at the mud that’s collected on my knees. “I haven’t even opened my locker yet. Can we not?” I whine, then add, “Look, I don’t know if I can handle another party. Outside of-- you know-- I don’t really think I’m a party person.”
“But this one is different, I promise,” he assures, reaching out a hand to brush some of my hair back from my face. I wore it down today, and beads of water weave through my tresses like tiny crystals. “This one is a Halloween party that my family is hosting at our house. It’s two weeks away, giving us plenty of time to go through all of the decorations to make sure that you’re cool with everything.”
Nolan’s home is huge and recalling him talking with his parents last week about planning a gala, I can only imagine the size and scope of a Campbell family party. A pinched expression scrunches up my features, because I seriously don’t want to go.
“Did I mention it’s also my birthday party?” he adds with a pitiful, puppy dog face.
Of course it is.
I glare at him, but it doesn’t hold any real malice. “You know this is emotional blackmail, right?”
He grins back. “That means you’ll come?”
“Yes, I’ll come,” I grumble, kneeling back down in front of my locker, another dose of muddy water saturating my jeans.
“Great!” Nolan claps his hands together, then begins rubbing them back and forth. “Would a naughty witch costume be too on the nose?”
Kaleb kind of choke coughs, and we’ve now gathered the full attention of the other boys.
“No… just no,” I proclaim pointing a finger at Nolan. “I’m not dressing as a sexy anything, so you can get that idea right out of your head.”
He squints and blinks a few times, then shakes his head. “Nope. I’m pretty sure it’s stuck there.”
Connor, Felix, and Donovan do a kind of chuckle snort, while Kaleb pinches the bridge of his nose, but a smile he seems to be fighting pulls at the corner of his lips.Traitor.
Groaning, I lean forward and thunk my head a couple of times against the lockers. “I hate all of you.”
“No you don’t,” Nolan sings, pulling away from the lockers so he can squat down beside me. “We’re too lovable to hate… at least I am.”
I roll my eyes so hard I can practically see my brain. I don’t know what possesses me to say it, but with a raised brow I counter, “Well, you’re certainly not Best Boy.”
His artic blue eyes widen before he squints. “Is that like your favorite? Because I’m pretty sure I’m everyone’s favorite.”
Connor snorts, though I don’t know if he means that Nolanisn’teveryone’s favorite, or that the problem is Nolaniseveryone’s favorite, to his own detriment.
“As I’ve said before, there’s nothing ‘boy’ about me,” Donovan scoffs, and even though I can’t see him, I’m pretty sure he’s once again motioning at his eight pack.
