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I grab my shirt and start to lift off the bed, but when my eyes drift to my jeans my ass hits the mattress again. To hell with this. To hell with her. Beth fell in love with Ryan. For weeks she acted like she couldn’t stand him, but knowing her like I do. . . like I did. . . Beth didn’t like people who made her feel.
And damn me to hell, she felt something for him.
Without thinking too much about it, I snatch the phone out of my jeans. If Beth wants to talk, we’ll talk. I’ll tell her everything I think about her and Ryan and her idea that we can be friends.
The phone springs to life and my heart stalls out. It wasn’t Beth.
It’s weird how the anger and tension recedes. What rattles me the most is the flood of anticipation and nerves. Like swaying right on the edge of being high or drunk. The message from Rachel is simple, but the olive branch extended is weighted: Hi
I stare at it like it’s the answer to life after death. Shit, in my case it probably is: Hey
Can’t sleep?
No. You?
I can feel my pulse at every pressure point in my body. Seconds pass, and there’s a longer pause as I wait for her next message. Come on, angel. Don’t leave me hanging like you did on Saturday night.
At the dragway you said you liked me.
I lower my head. She’s going to make me put it in writing. I’ve never felt so much like a sideshow monkey as I do now: Yeah, I like you. A lot.
I pop my neck to the side. How fucking long does it take to write a response?
I like you too and I’m also scared.
I inhale air and release it like a man who’s been pulled from the bottom of a lake. She likes me. I want to see you tomorrow morning.
I have school.
I’ll meet you there.
You have school. Rachel texts back immediately. And your school starts before mine.
I chuckle. How have I ended up pursuing a girl as naive as her? It’s called skipping. What time do you get to school?
Isaiah!
I chuckle again as I imagine those beautiful violet eyes widening and her cheeks turning red at the thought of doing something wrong. I’m skipping. You’re not.
Noah turns over in bed to face me. “Did you just laugh, bro?”
“If I swing by the Malt and Burger tomorrow can you score me breakfast?”
He assesses me and the cell. “If it’ll get you to shut up and go to bed. ”
A smile forms on my lips. “Go to hell. ”
“Fuck you. ”
“Original, man. Think I said that earlier. ”
“Tell Rachel I said hi. ” My best friend knows me.
My phone vibrates again. I can be there by 8.
I roll onto my back and hold the phone up as I text back: See you then.
Chapter 32
