Page 112 of His Reckless Freshman

“So… not a date?” Nylah’s head tips with a frown.

“No.” I purse my lips to the side. “I mean…” I glance at her, then bite my lip again. “Not really. It’s…” I sigh, my shoulders starting to slump. How do I explain this to her?

Part of me wishes I could let her in. Maybe she’s got some sage advice, you know?

But she’ll never understand what I’ve gotten myself into.

Caroline definitely didn’t.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.

I nearly laugh out loud. As if I could honestly tell her! Look how cool she is. She’d never need some guy to teach her how to come… and then go ahead and fall for him… then not know whether he was into her… then spend most of the day writing a speech based on a theory that might not even be true.

I shake my head, aware that she’s still looking at me while I have my internal meltdown.

Her smile turns kind of sad, and she gives me a resigned nod. “Well… whoever he—or she—is, I hope you have a good time with them.”

I blink, surprised she thinks I might be gay. Do I come across that way?

It doesn’t matter. Feelings are feelings, right?

Whatever Ben’s gender, it wouldn’t change the fact that I’ve caught feelings, and tonight is either going to be an epic disaster or a major success.

Oh my gosh, what if it’s a success?

A giggle pops out of me before I can stop it, and I shake my head. Maybe it’s okay if I tell her just a little something. You know, prepare her for the fact that I’ll either be rushing back here in tears or floating on cloud nine.

“It’s a he, and I’m sorry I’m being so cryptic. It’s just…” I wince. “I really like him, like a lot. But I don’t know where he stands, and I’m going for yoga pants”—I start wrestling them on—“because I’m worried the dress is sending the wrong message. I mean, it’s one of those…” I bite my lip, trying to figure out how to explain this to her. “Um… it’s like a tutoring situation, and I’m sort of falling, and I don’t know if he’s falling or just being nice to me, and I’m trying to read these, like, unspoken messages and am starting to think I’m really bad at it. But I have to take this chance, you know? I’m losing my mind here, so I’m just gonna go over there and… I’m just gonna make him tell me where he stands on the whole liking me/helping me out thing.”

Okay, so I was not expecting to say that much, and I said it all so quickly that I’m not even sure if everything I just blurted is even accurate, but now I’m rethinking the yoga pants. What if this goes off the way I want and we do start undressing each other?

Yoga pants are so awkward and hard to get off, and any images of a movie-worthy love scene start to fade.

I need baggy clothes for this.

“What’s he tutoring you in?” Nylah asks, all casual, like it’s the simplest question in the world to answer.

“Nothing,” I practically snap, fear gripping me for a hot second. My cheeks flare and I look away from my reflection in the mirror. Yeah, I definitely need to ditch the yoga pants.

Pulling them off, I nearly fall over trying to get them off my feet.

See what I mean?

Yoga pants are the worst idea ever.

Reaching for my baggiest pair of sweatpants, I pull them on easily, fully aware that I’m going from one extreme to the other. A cute dress to a pair of pants that swamp me?

Nylah must be sitting there thinking I’m certifiably insane.

Yanking on an oversized sweater to match, I now look like I’m heading off to eat ice cream and cry over a romantic movie or something.

Ugh!

But at least the clothes will come off my body quickly, right?

Because if Ben is up for turning what we’ve had going into something more, then I definitely want the evening to end with us in bed together—no clothes necessary.

“Good luck.” Nylah catches my attention, smiling at me as I grab my speech out of the pocket of my other pants. I’m hoping not to need it, but… just in case. “Hope he’s honest with you.”