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“Or it’ll make him a cocky jerk who thinks he’s too good to settle down,” I mutter, images of Nate working out in his garage flying through my mind.
“What do you think, Xavi?” Bastian says.
He shrugs. “I’ve always been the fat kid, and I’ll probably always be the fat kid. But if you want to work out then props, man. It’s a good idea.”
Ciara nods and caps the nail polish on her desk. She’d been painting her nails a new color this whole time, as usual. “I think you should do it. Working out increases endorphins and all that. It’ll be good for you.”
“Cool,” Bastian says, scribbling something into his notebook. “Thanks, guys. Okay, who’s next?”
I stare at my pizza crust as if it’s the most important thing in the world but my nonchalance doesn’t help. “Isla?” Bastian says, turning his attention to me. “How’d it go at the football game?”
I draw in a deep breath, still not used to the feeling of so many eyes watching me even though I’ve been in this group for over a month. “Well … it wasn’t bad, but I didn’t really succeed in my goal of making Nate jealous.” I pick at my cuticles and look up at him, feeling weirdly sad that I have to disappoint him, the sophomore leader of our group. “I stayed on the Wildcats’ side of the field so he never saw me. And I never saw him, so …”
“Are you kidding?” he bellows, tossing his palms up. “That is great news, Isla!”
I lift an eyebrow. Trish nods, pressing her lips together and Xavier starts slow clapping. Ciara leans across Sequoia’s desk and grabs my arm. “We’re proud of you.”
I glance at Emory for some kind of confirmation, but he’s just watching me, leaned back in his desk, not a care in the world. “How is this a good thing?” I ask, still dumbfounded. “I didn’t even see him.”
“Exactly,” Bastian says, his eyes wide and appreciative as if that explains anything.
“Huh?” I lift my shoulders.
“A couple of weeks ago you would have been a crying mess,” he says, writing something in his notebook. “You would have been desperate to see him no matter what. So the fact that you were at a football game and didn’t even bother to look for him shows just how far you’ve come in your healing. We’re really proud of you.”
I find myself smiling, and then the smile fades and my brows knit together. “Was I really that pathetic?”
A circle of nods flows through the support group. I roll my eyes and lean my head back, staring at the ceiling. “That is so embarrassing.”
“See, Sequoia?” Ciara says. “We were all like you once. We get better because we help each other.”
“I think Isla is doing well enough that we don’t need to assign any homework right now,” Bastian says, flipping to a new page in his notebook. “Emory, your turn. How was your weekend and how many hearts did you break?”
His smile slides to the corner of his mouth. He seems so laid back and relaxed, not caring in the least that everyone watches him. He takes a bite of pizza. “I didn’t do anything this weekend.”
“Well, that’s good,” Bastian says. He begins writing and turns toward Xavier. “So Xavi—” I clear my throat and hold up a hand to interrupt him.
I raise my eyebrows and stare at Emory. “Really? You did nothing this weekend?”
Emory’s eyes meet mine. “Yep. Nothing.”
“Nothing at all?” I say sarcastically. “You’re unbelievable.”
Bastian turns toward me. “What does that mean, Isla? Emory, are you keeping something from us?”
“No,” he says at the same time I say, “Yes.”
Emory folds his arms over his chest and narrows his eyes at me. “What are you talking about, Iz-la?”
I swallow, feeling ten degrees warmer under the scrutiny of his dark eyes. “I’m not trying to be a tattletale or anything, but you should probably confess to being at that football game. I mean, how many girls would you have flirted with if I hadn’t been there?”
“Oooooooh,” Ciara murmurs under her breath.
Emory shakes his head, a smile playing on his lips. “Nope. Not true.” To Bastian, he says, “I wasn’t at that game for myself. I didn’t flirt with a single girl.”
“Is that so?” Bastian says, sounding exactly like my father.
Trish says, “So why were you there if it wasn’t to pick up chicks? You’re not really the football type. That’d be like me going to a game, and that is not happening.”
