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She slides her hand down my arm. “Joel and I are going to the dance together. He offered to fake date me, but I told him no. No one could be a better fake boyfriend than you. He did all that to annoy me. I doubt he was expecting you, of all people, to believe it.” She laughs and I step closer, surprising her.
“I guess you’re right. I am jealous. I like being yourfakeboyfriend.”
I give her a sly smile and it knocks her off her game for a second.
“Too bad you have a date,” she says, giving my arm a squeeze and stepping back. She winks at me. “See ya next period, Ace.” Then she scampers back down the hall to where Mackie, Trevor, and Nick are waiting to walk to first period with her.
Like the idiot I am, I stand there staring, wondering what the hell just happened.
Rae
Aaron and I are lying on our stomachs on my bed, reading the chapter of the book that’s due for English tomorrow.
Aaron keeps sighing and rubbing his face.
I poke at his shoulder. “What’s the matter with you today? Are you still upset that Joel pretended to be my boyfriend?”
He scoffs. “I wasn’t upset about that.”
I raise my eyebrows at him. “Okay.”
“I wasn’t. It surprised me is all.”
I push myself up to sitting and stare him down. “Tell me.”
He sits up, too, sitting cross-legged like me, our knees touching. He sighs again.
“You’re so dramatic today. What’s up, Ace?”
“Coach talked to me today. Said there’s already tons of coaches interested in me for college.”
My eyes go wide. “Aaron! That’s amazing!” Then I take in his souring expression and tilt my head. “Isn’t it?”
“I don’t know,” he says quietly.
I squint my eyes at him, then grab his hands. I pull so that we both fall onto our sides, looking into each other’s eyes. “Talk to me.”
He hesitates. “I hope it’s a good thing. But it’s a lot of pressure. Especially considering…”
I squint at him. His hesitancy is confusing. I know he doesn’t care about going pro, but playing and getting to work with the younger guys on the team and helping them with their hitting and pitching means a lot to him. Then it hits me.
“Your hand,” I whisper, looking down. I brush my thumb over the top of that hand. “Are you having problems with it?”
A pang of guilt rushes through me. I know I was going through a lot over the summer, but was that an excuse to not be there for him? Clearly, I’ve missed something big he’s been going through.
He shrugs. “Sometimes it’s stiff.” He acts like it’s no big deal, so I bump my knee against his.
“Tell me.”
“The Sea Dogs coach wants to see new film. But my hand locks up easily. I’m not throwing like I used to.” He runs a hand through his hair. “And baseball is…” he sighs. “I don’t know. It’s a constant. Something that grounds me. I don’t know what I want to study or anything else. College is scary in that sense. Scouts and coaches being interested in me is exciting… if I’m still playing how I need to.”
“Maybe you should get your hand checked out.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know. I think it’s probably fine. I just need to build up strength again. I babied it after—”
“Right.”
“It’s not your fault.”
