Despite my newly realized anxiety, I smiled. “You love me?”
“I wasn’t exaggerating when I said I’ve waited for you for years. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t love you.”
“Why?” The question just slipped out.
She sighed. “I wish you could see yourself like I do.”
I was never one to look at the world, much less myself, through rose-colored glasses. I knew what I was—good-looking, a solid football player, and fun to be around—but I also knew what I wasn’t, and that list was so much longer. But I was selfish enough to ignore the fact that I could never be half the man Becca deserved. I was going to love her as long as she would let me. With any luck, she would never come to her senses.
But I wasn’t counting on it. Becca was a smart girl.
CHAPTER 17
Becca
“OPEN UP!” CAME a muffled voice from outside my apartment.
With quizzical glance at Nicole, I went to the front door and peered through the peephole. All I could see was a huge cardboard box, but since I recognized Hanima’s voice, I opened the door.
She immediately shoved a box into my arms. “I’ll go help Courtney with the rest of it.” She trotted off down the steps.
I deposited the box on the kitchen counter. “What is all this stuff?”
Nicole shrugged as if she didn’t know, but it was unconvincing. Before I could grill her further, Courtney stumbled in the front door I’d left open, carrying two huge shopping bags. She dropped them in the living room and collapsed on the couch. “Remind me to tell Hanima no the next time she asks me to help her carry a few things.”
“What is all this stuff?” I asked again, hoping to get an answer this time.
Before Courtney could respond, Hanima strode in the door, kicking it closed behind her. “Your campaign.”
“Excuse me?”
“Those sorority girls have posters all over campus.”
“I’ve noticed.” At the homecoming court meeting, the chairperson made it sound like campaigning was almost discouraged. Or perhaps I’d simply interpreted her comments to suit my own needs. “But I hadn’t planned to campaign.” It just felt weird putting myself front and center like that, essentially demanding that people pay attention to me. I was more comfortable behind the scenes.
“That doesn’t mean you get to spoil our fun,” Nicole chimed in. “You don’t even have to participate if you don’t want.”
“I’m the one on the court,” I pointed out. “Isn’t that the exact definition of participating?”
Pursing her lips, Nicole shot me an annoyed look. “You know what I mean.”
Hanima pulled a stack of thick photo paper out of a box, and I saw a flash of my own face. Cheese on a cracker. “What is that?”
Smiling smugly, Hanima held one of them out. In a three-inch circle was my picture and the slogan, “Becca Zizzo supports Women in STEM. Do you? Vote Becca!”
I gaped at it. “Where did you get that picture?” When I’d spoken at the education conference last year, I’d had to supply a headshot for the program, so I’d gotten a photography student to take it. I hadn’t been wild about the end result, but I’d put it off for so long that I hadn’t had any other options. Now it looked like the entire campus would see it. Ugh.
“Lucy helped us,” Nicole said. “By the way, you really should update your password on your computer.”
“Believe me, I will.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. I didn’t know why I was getting upset. If anything, I should have been grateful. It just bothered me that they’d gone behind my back to plan all this. Then again, if they would have asked me, I would have told them no. Nicole had said this was fun for them, and I had to admit, they looked like they were enjoying the whole charade. Heck, I would’ve been more likely to enjoy it if one of them were in the spotlight.
“The pictures will be used with these.” Hanima fished in the box and came up with a plastic bag full of buttons. “There wasn’t enough time to send them out, so we’re going to have to put them together ourselves.”
“Please tell me we don’t have to cut out all those circles,” Nicole said.
Hanima snorted. “Do you think I’m an amateur? I got a punch. All you have to do is line up the picture and press. Hang on. I’ll show you.” She dug around in the box and found a craft punch. It seemed she had thought of everything, which didn’t surprise me.
The buttons weren’t the only thing she’d gotten. In addition, she’d printed up flyers all about women in STEM and how the proceeds from my homecoming candidacy would support local Bleaksburg students.
As I read over what she’d written, my heart swelled. A person would have to be heartless not to want to support the cause. “This is so good.”
She beamed. “I took a creative writing class last year. I guess I picked up a few things. And that’s not all.” She held up a bag of chocolate candy. “We’re going to attach these.”
“I can’t believe you went through all this trouble,” I said. “I hope it didn’t cost a lot.”
Hanima passed me a roll of tape. Apparently, I was on chocolate duty. “We took up a collection at the last study hall. The freshman girls are especially excited. Speaking of that, Dr. Hanover is also really excited you’re on the court. She wants you to speak in her Tuesday morning class. I checked your schedule, and you’re clear for that.” Dr. Hanover taught one of the dreaded freshman engineering weed-out courses. Despite that, she was one of the most popular professors in the department.
“Okay,” I said slowly, not entirely comfortable with the idea. “Are you sure she wants me to take up class time for this?”
“It actually fits in with her curriculum. Do you remember that unit about the role of engineering in society? I told her you’d give a dumbed-down version of the paper you presented at the conference.”
I hadn’t looked at that material in months, but since I only had to provide a broad overview, I could probably do it without reviewing if I had to.
“Then when you’re done,” Hanima continued, “you hand out the flyers and buttons.”
Even though I had been wary when Hanima first walked in with the boxes, I was incredibly moved by the lengths these women had gone to to support me. Granted, they were the ones who had talked me into running, but still. Tears unexpectedly formed in my eyes, and I quickly wiped them away. I usually wasn’t a crier at times like these.
“Stop,” Courtney said. “Because if you cry, then Hanima will cry, and if she cries, then I’ll cry, and when I say I’m an ugly crier, I’m not exaggerating.”
“What about me?” Nicole seemed put out. “What if I cry?”
Courtney stared at her for a beat. “Are you going to cry?”
“Anything is possible, right?” She gestured toward me. “Becca is proof of that.”
“Oh, come on,” Hanima said. “She was a shoo-in for homecoming court.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Nicole said. “I totally saw her making out with a hot football player on campus the other day.”