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My mouth is hanging open. I really didn’t see this one coming. Or rather, never let my mind consider it, because this is Fred. The guy every girl on campus wants.
“Okay.” With an effort, I restart my frozen brain. “Brandon? Your practice buddy. He the one you like?”
“Yeah.” He gives me a sheepish look. “But I didn’t want to say anything without being sure. I wanted to try with girls, too.”
Girls. Other girls. Not me.
“I didn’t want to use you as an experiment,” he goes on. “You’re too nice for that.”
I appreciate the sentiment, but I don’t appreciate the fact he was sleeping around to determine what he really liked without telling me.
“And what is your conclusion?” I mutter.
“Christ, you make it sound so cold. Like a clinical experiment.”
Well, I am still angry. “Just tell me.”
“I think I like both, but girls more.”
Okay. “And what about the blonde?”
“I only saw her a couple of times. There’s nothing going on.”
Jesus. Even if I believed that…
“Madeline. Would you give me another chance?”
It takes me about half a second to decide.
“I’m sorry. No. I can’t.” I feel slightly guilty, because deep inside I’m pretty sure I never really wanted him that way, either. “You’re a great guy, Fred. I hope we can still be friends.”
And the funny thing is, I really mean this.
“I see.” He groans, rakes a hand through his sandy hair. “I screwed up. You found someone else, didn’t you?”
I bite my lip, not sure I want to mention Seth. Not when I don’t even know what we have. “Being friends with me can’t be so bad.”
“No, it’s not.” He huffs and smiles. “Friends. Sure, why not? We can try that.”
My mind’s still reeling from his revelation. I’m oddly proud of him for having the courage to tell me about it—can’t have been easy—even though I’m still angry that he tested his theory on other random girls.
But above all, for the first time since I saw him with that blonde and my world imploded, I’m really happy to see him.
***
I park in a street behind Damage Control and check my hair in the rearview mirror before I get out of the car.
Ridiculous, I know. The thought of seeing Seth gets me all excited and bouncy. I miss him, and it’s only been a few hours since seeing him this morning. I think of his mouth, his eyes, his chest, his hands, every part of him, and a thrill skates down my spine.
As I walk toward the shop, I see him standing outside, leaning against the façade, smoking, and my heart stops.
Oh my God. The weak sunshine gilds his face, catches on his thick lashes, turns his dark hair to polished mahogany. He turns his head to the side to blow a cloud of smoke and I can’t help but stare at the way his sweater stretches across his broad chest and those muscular shoulders.
How is this possible? He’s more handsome every time I see him. Not fair.
He looks up as I approach and that devil-may-care grin spreads over his face, making me so hot I think I’ll just melt at his feet.
“Hey, you,” he rasps, and I realize I stopped in my tracks, mouth hanging open.
