“I’m calling to tell you I think I figured out what happened.”
“It’s pretty obvious what happened, Max. Your girlfriend found your phone and told me to leave you alone. I’m trying to follow her wishes but you keep talking to me.”
“There is noher,” he says. “I promise.”
I sigh into the phone. “Not this again.”
“I’m serious. And I can prove it.”
I swallow. “How?”
“I’d rather explain in person,” he says. My body tenses. “I think we should meet.”
Chapter 9
“Um…”
I don’t even know what to say to that. Mainly, I’m thinking that I could listen to his voice for hours. I’m also wondering what a guy could look like after sounding that freaking cute on the phone. I’m also thinking this is crazy.
“Please, Jess?”
“Why can’t you just explain to me on the phone?” I say, but I can already feel myself cracking. As much as I want to hate him and not listen to a word he says, I can’t stop thinking about the possibility. Themaybe.
Like maybe he’s not lying.
“Because I think we should meet. If you meet me in person, you’ll see that I’m a good guy. I’ll prove to you that this was just a stupid misunderstanding. Even my mom is blown away by how stupid it is.”
I grip the phone tighter. “You told your mom about this?”
“Yeah, I had to,” he says. “I needed her advice.”
“And what did she say?”
“She said I should meet the girl I’m crushing on to make sure I really like her.”
Butterflies flutter around my stomach. “I see.”
He chuckles. “I know, I know. It’s crazy. We’ve only talked through texting but you seem so cool. I can’t let you get away without making one last attempt to win you over.”
“But, you don’t know me,” I say, desperation filling my voice. Because even though this is sounding really good, I have to be realistic. Maybe he’ll take one look at me and think I’m not his type of girl. I mean, looks-wise, I am average at best. Abigail always says my long brown hair is the prettiest thing ever, but that’s just hair. My face? It’s just normal.
Just boring.
It’s the reason I’m still single.
“I want to know you,” Max says. “If we don’t click then, fine. We’ll just be friends. No big deal. But I think we should meet and I can clear my name so you no longer thing I’m a liar.”
“How do I know you’re not some serial murderer?” I say, and I’m only halfway joking.
He laughs anyhow. “Let’s meet in public. What about that Starbucks off fifth street that’s always super busy? I’ll be there tomorrow when you get off school. I’ll wear a blue beanie. You can show up and scope me out and if you think I look like a murderer then you can leave.”
I get this rush of excitement at the idea of meeting him. “That sounds like an okay idea…”
“So you’ll do it?” he asks, his voice eager. “Yes,” I say, grinning. “You’ll be wearing a blue beanie.”
“Blue beanie,” he confirms.
I take a deep breath. Maybe this is crazy. But maybe it’s not. “Okay.”
