Oh my gosh.This cannot be happening.
My cheeks burn with embarrassment.
I smack a hand over my face. This is not how I imagined our first conversation going. I’ve pictured it in my head countless times. Working it one way, then reworking it another. Each time I’m confident and easy going, entirely myself, and he falls head over heels for me.
I’m not shy or stunned. I’m not inexperienced or afraid to say the wrong thing. I’m not the little girl who watched everyone elseget chosen to go on dates with potential families. I’m not on the sidelines of my life; I’m the main character.
Why is picturing something so much easier than living it?
“I’ll catch you either way,” he says, ignoring the way I’m also clumsy with words. “We’ve never formally met. I’m Zach.”
“I know.” Okay, so maybe I shouldn’t be myself. My feet jitter. Shifting side to side, my toes curling on the soles. “I’m Sutton Davis.”
“I know.” He hands me my water bottle. Our fingers brush, and I try not to appear too utterly freaked out. Zach blushes, and for a second, I think he might be as nervous as me. He shifts on his feet. “I’ve wanted to ask for your number for a while, but?—”
“We have plans,” I blurt out awkwardly. “Elliot and I,” I modify my statement.
Elliot frowns, eyes falling shut as she shakes her head. She’s been giving me tips for talking to the opposite sex, but I’ve apparently forgotten every single one.
I dated a guy in high school briefly. Then someone else most of freshman year, but haven’t since.
My roommate steps in as my lifesaver—literally and figuratively. “We are going to lunch. I’d offer for you to join, but I think you are needed back in there.” She points to the weight room where we are collecting a small crowd who pretend not to be watching us. “But she’d love to grab coffee sometime. Do you have your phone?”
“I don’t drink coffee,” I whisper to Elliot.
“Shut up,” she whispers back.
Zach shakes his head no.
Elliot reaches into my coat pocket, fingers like chopsticks, and pulls mine out. She types in my passcode and opens a new contact—note to self: change passcode. Flipping my phone around, she passes it to Zach. He hands it back, and she returns it to my pocket.
“Thanks, Zach. Tell Tyler to text me.” She winks, then drags me down the hallway.
Twisting backward, I find Zach still standing there, a smile on his face. I lift my hand, tight and in front of my chest, waving bye to him. He returns the gesture before miming a phone to his ear, then pointing at himself and mouthingCall me.
FIVE
COOPER
Two days after evading Sutton,Elliot walks in through the front door of our house. Jaxon and Chase trail behind her, bickering about which Batman is better.
“You can’t possibly be picking Bale over Keaton.”
“West is a classic we haven’t considered.” That’s Chase.
“No, no, no. Out of the running. I’m putting a red sock in your laundry if you don’t tell me right now how you are picking Bale,” Jaxon threatens.
“Could you even find a red sock?” Chase taunts back.
“You know I’m colorblind, you dick.”
They land on either side of me on our sectional and pick up the other two wireless controllers on the console table. Mindlessly, I restart our racing game to add them in, listening to their debate move to Catwoman.
I don’t know where Elliot disappears to, but I can hear her voice. “You two are insane. The obvious choice is Pattinson.”
Our house is two floors with a basement. Spacious and recently renovated. The finished basement is used solely for parties. Thrifted couches line the perimeter, and Jaxon built a make-shift bar in a corner last summer.
The main area is spacious. All of the expected rooms: living, dining that we actually use for nightly dinners and studying, kitchen, and a laundry room that is exploding with dirty clothes from whoever is up on the schedule. We have to keep that door shut, even with a diffuser it always smells like someone’s sweaty gear.
