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“A bet? What bet?”
“You don’t remember? Last night, you made a bet with Bray that you were a better shot than him.”
“I don’t remember doing that. Why would I do that? Hold up… what exactly did I bet?” I ask, panicked. I don’t exactly have anything to gamble with.
“Uh, I may have placed a small wager on it.” He averts his eyes, looking out the windshield of the car.
“How small, Josh?”
“The details are fuzzy, but from what I recall, it was around two.”
“Two thousand dollars? Josh, you cannot bet two thousand dollars on me. That’s insane.” My voice rises with panic. What if I lose? What if he didn’t bet on me to win, and I actually do win?
“Don’t be ridiculous, Emmy. I didn’t bet two thousand. It was two mil.”
My mouth falls open and shut. “Holy bloody shit! Joshua McKinley, no! Just NO! We need a goddamn intervention up in here, because that has to be the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen you do. And that’s saying a lot, because you once hit our math teacher and got yourself a month’s worth of after school detention. On purpose.”
“I got to spend a week in the detention hall staring at you. It was worth it.”
“Do you even remember why I was in detention, Josh?”
“No, all I remember is hearing you being given a week of detentions. I knew I was going to be in that hall with you. Do you know the kind of riffraff who frequented the detention hall?”
“You?”
“Well, yeah, but also, all those other jerks. If I hadn’t been there, trust me, Em, you would have been in for a week of hell.”
I screw my face up. Does he think it wasn’t a week of hell having his intense gaze on me? My skin prickling for the whole hour we sat there silently? I’d never been hornier in my life. The things I’d imagine Josh doing to me then… I would snap out of my daydream to see the smirk on his face. He knew what I was thinking about—the ass.
“I don’t know. I remember spending the week daydreaming and fantasising about a boy. It was hours well spent. I barely even noticed anyone else in the room. But just so we’re clear, it was your fault I got detention that day.”
“Em, you were daydreaming about me. Don’t even try to pretend you weren’t. And how was it my fault?”
“Maybe I was. Maybe I wasn’t. It was your fault because there was a note left at my desk. A note addressed to Emmy. I was so frustrated I didn’t know where these notes were bloody coming from that I screamed.”
“How is that my fault?”
“Come on, Josh, you are the only person to ever call me Emmy. You and I both know you were writing those notes.”
“Maybe I was. Maybe I wasn’t. Come on, let’s get in and show Bray why you don’t fuck with Emmy McKinley.”
“Livingston. I’m not a McKinley, Josh.”
“If I say it enough, it will eventuate. And trust me, Em, you will be a McKinley.”
