“Oh, I can’t go,” she said airily. “I have an audition with the Conservatory that weekend.”
“What?” I screeched. For once it didn’t even occur to me to feel shy in front of the group. “Holy shit, you do not!”
“I do!” She beamed and grabbed my hands. “I just found out.”
“Oh my God! I’m so proud of you.”
We bounced up and down in our seats while the girls squealed their congratulations and the guys tried to figure out what the big deal was.
I noticed Will was watching me with a funny smile. My excitement evaporated, and fire started shooting up from the ground, and my fingernails turned into talons so I could rip that smile off his face. How dare he look at me like that after talking shit about me, right in front of me?
When they brought out the rest of the shakes, I admittedly felt a little twinge of regret that I’d passed them up. They were works of art made out of chocolate, some of them towering several inches above the Mason jars they were served in, covered in whipped cream, candy, edible glitter, gold flakes, mint chips, and most of them drizzled with three months’ worth of melted Nutella.
And here I was with my water.
Eurgh. This was all Will’s fault.
My phone buzzed. I tuned out of the conversation and checked my phone.
Will.
I’m heading to the parking lot. Meet me there in 1.75 minutes?
His chair squeaked as he hopped up and clapped Matt on the back. “Hey, I’ll be back, bro.”
“Your milkshake just got here.”
“I can’t help it. And don’t you dare touch it while I’m gone.”
Matt grinned. “You know I can’t promise that.”
I tracked Will out of the corner of my eye. He headed over toward the restrooms, but then, casual as anything, veered left to go out the back door.
All right. Time to count down. One-point-five-three minutes until I had to pull the same maneuver.
I leaned in to whisper to Juliette. “I’ll be back in a sec.”
“Where are you going?”
Really? Really? “You know. Just over, ah, to the …”
“Oh, bathroom?”
“Yeah.”
She lowered her voice even more. “It’s just, I thought you might be going to meet Will like he asked you to.”
Oh my God she totally eavesdropped on my text. Or, like … eyesdropped. What was the visual equivalent of eavesdropping? Actually, no. Irrelevant. With as much dignity as I could muster, I rose to my feet, gave her a pointed look, and headed over to the restrooms. Super casual, just like Will had.
Then when I got there, I turned around to check if anyone was watching me. Juliette caught my eye and smiled, and I paused, frozen, terrified someone might notice her glancing at me. Super not casual, the exact opposite of Will.
But what else was new.
I think I made it outside without anyone other than Juliette catching on. In fact, I was so distracted by the whole mission that I briefly forgot I was kind of pissed at Will. But then I saw him, leaning against the wall near the edge of the building with his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, and oh boy I remembered.
I stalked toward him, arms folded. “Yes?”
He lit up when he saw me like the way he used to at the lake when I’d torn him away from his thoughts. Somehow, this annoyed me even more. He could at least acknowledge that I was annoyed. He didn’t have to look so happy to see me.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hi.”
“You’re not eating?”
What an icebreaker. “Not hungry.”
He nodded, then opened his mouth. Then closed it, opened it, then closed it again. He folded his arms against the cold and stepped from side to side. He looked like an unusually melancholy square dancer. Well, at least he wasn’t acting all cheerful anymore. “I feel really stupid,” he said.
“Uh-huh.”
“God, I don’t even know what to say. It just slipped out. I’m so used to acting a certain way around the guys, you know? It’s not me, I know it’s not me, but I always joke with them, and they expect me to say things, so I don’t even think.”
I didn’t say anything.
He sighed, and tipped his head back. “I’m really sorry.” He peeked at me, but I still didn’t reply. I mean, what could I say? That it was okay? Because it really wasn’t. “I’m a dick because I’ve always been a dick around my friends” wasn’t really an excuse.
“I like your jeans,” he tried. “And your music. And you in general, really. So much it’s ridiculous. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since Thanksgiving.”
Since Thanksgiving? I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him since summer. Honestly, it was starting to feel like maybe since birth. I couldn’t remember a time when I’d been able to brush my teeth, or make toast, or play guitar without Will’s face popping into my mind like a jump-scare in a viral video.
But. Still.
He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about our kiss.
Did that mean the idea of us—being with me, properly, for everyone to see—wasn’t so scary to him anymore? Could our kiss have reminded him of what it was like when we were together? It had definitely reminded me. Maybe he’d decided I was worth the risk.
I softened the tiniest bit.
Suddenly, he shrugged out of his varsity jacket and held it out to me. “Will you wear this?” he asked. “Just for a few seconds or whatever?”
I didn’t mean to look at it so suspiciously, but my mind couldn’t help but race to see if there was a trap or a catch here. “Why?”
He shifted his weight from one leg to another, giving the jacket a small shake. “I wanna see how it looks.”
For once, I didn’t have a sassy comeback. I crossed my arms over my chest to barricade my insides, which had melted like butter. Peak softness reached. “Really?”
Deep inside my chest, my heart was beating as though it was trying to tear free of bondage. With an embarrassingly giddy grin I took the jacket and slipped it on. I mean, it definitely couldn’t look any good on me—l ike a Chihuahua trying to pull off a Great Dane’s collar, I imagined—but … okay, admittedly, it made me feel good. So good. Special, even. Like, it didn’t matter that I’d had a breakout that week, or that my cowlick wouldn’t behave itself, or that I’d never gotten braces when by all means I should have.
None of it mattered, because Will wanted me to wear his jacket, and Will thought I was beautiful.
I lifted my hands awkwardly, the cuffs of the sleeves drowning my fingertips. “Sexy, am I right?” I joked.
He didn’t laugh when he nodded. “It looks great on you.” He glanced around us to make sure there were no basketballers lurking in the shadows waiting to catch us out. It ruined the moment for me for half a second, but then, with this affectionate little smile that made me seriously worry about spontaneous combustion, he held out his hand to search for mine inside the left sleeve. He looped his pinky finger around mine. “I wish you could wear it at school.”
“Me, too.”
I waited for him. This was an in. He could say “wear it inside now.” He could say “maybe you’ll wear it someday.” If he’d just given me something to hold on to, I’d take it. But he didn’t.