Page 151 of You Said I Was Your Favorite

The bell rings and she immediately starts talking, asking for last night’s homework. I pass mine up, my thoughts going to the book seeming to burn a hole in the desk, and I pull it back out, staring at the cover, knowing Daisy’s hands were just on it.

It’s definitely her book. Now the question is, did she leave it behind by accident or on purpose? And if it was on purpose, then she most likely meant for me to see that message via the passage she highlighted.

I lean back down and peer into the storage slot, spotting something else in there. Reaching inside, I wrap my fingers around it and pull it out.

A pastel blue highlighter pen.

Hmm.

This is definitely not an accident.

The teacher starts talking about a new section from the textbook and I tune her out, flipping through the romance book Daisy left for me, my eyebrows climbing when I find an extra hot scene.

This book has some spice. And I almost laugh out loud at a part Daisy highlighted.

Good girl.

She swallowed every drop.

Shit, I’m sweating.

I skim the scene, shifting in my seat, hoping no one notices I’m getting all fired up over a sex scene in a book. But it’s not even the words that are getting to me. It’s more the knowledge that I know Daisy read this and liked it and highlighted it. Is she still getting off while reading this stuff? Does she touch herself and think of me?

Yeah, can’t try and visualize things like that right now. Way too distracting.

Instead, I uncap the highlighter pen and run it across a few sentences that I hope will get a rise out of her. Once I’m finished with that, I grab a piece of paper and write a note to her, feeling like I’m living in a goddamn movie. Most people would just send each other a text saying,I miss youand discuss things like rational humans.

But this is Daisy who I’m dealing with. She’s not big on confrontation.

After reading over the note at least five times, I fold the paper and place it in the book, then stash it away where I found it. I’m impatient for the rest of the period, relieved when the bell finally rings, signaling the day is over.

Thank God.

I’m walking across campus, feeling aimless when I run into JJ, who for once in his life doesn’t have Mya with him. He may claim he’s not in a relationship, but they sure act like they are, and every time I see them together, I feel a pang in my chest. I don’t like to identify what it is, but deep down, I know.

Jealousy.

“Wanna get the hell out of here?” JJ asks, glancing around like he’s afraid someone is going to spot him.

“Sure. What are you thinking?”

“Anywhere but here.” JJ starts walking. “Come on.”

I follow him to the parking lot, noting his determined steps and the scowl on his face. JJ seems pissed, and he’s rarely angry.

“What’s your problem?” I ask once we’re in his car and he’s starting the engine.

“Fucking Mya.” He shakes his head, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tight, his knuckles go white. “We got into an argument.”

I don’t ask him what about. If he wants to volunteer that information to me, he will.

He drives in silence for a few minutes, turning so we’re headed into town and finally, he speaks.

“She said she’s tired of me not fully committing to her and if I can’t do it, she’ll go find someone else who will.” He pauses for only a moment. “I told her to go ahead and find someone else then, if she believes I’m not good enough for her.”

“I don’t think that’s what she was saying…”

“Felt like it,” JJ says, speaking right over me. “I’ve told her from the start that I don’t do serious. She knew this and she’s still wanting more from me than I can give.”

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