Scott hits him. “No, I call dibs.”
“She’s not what you guys think. Damn, listen to yourselves. I expected this from him, but you, too, Westley?”
“She’s hot, man. Like, way out of your league.”
I raise my hands. “We’re just friends. You fuckers need a life.”
Scott and Westley walk out of my room as I usher them out. “I’ve never been so excited for a fucking party, man. We’re getting her drunk.”
I shake my head. “No, you’re fucking not. She doesn’t drink.”
Scott takes that as a challenge. “We’ll see about that.”
I close my bedroom door and type out a text to Cecily.
Dylan: You were right. Girls are going feral, baring teeth.
I reread it and delete it. My DM’s are still lighting up with random messages.
When I lie in bed, I wonder if I just outed my best-kept secret. I’ve only known her for like nine days, and it’s going good, sure, but maybe inviting her to the party was a mistake.
Wednesday rolls around, and I have Scott in my ear about her non-fucking-stop. It’s annoying as hell.
When I walk into the gym, the squawking noise catches everyone’s attention, including my beautiful best friend dressed in purple today. She hops off the treadmill and heads my way.
“Gavin,” she greets with a smile. “Dylan.”
“Cecily,” Gavin and I say in unison. She looks at both of us. Her lips are shiny, her brows look thicker, and her hair is braided.
“Upper body today,” she says as we walk to the weights.
“No Pilates again, Pilates princess,” I beg.
She smiles. “I promise I won’t torture you with that again.”
“Thank you.”We fall into silence, setting up the bench for our workout. When I’m under the bar, she’s encouraging me to push, and I smell Starbursts on her breath. It’s a fucking struggle because I have Scott in my head, putting her on the pedestal that Cecily is always talking about. She lifts the bar for me, and then I sit up.
“Everything okay?” she asks.
I nod. “Yeah, just need a minute.” I pace the floor, knowing that I need to stop this right fucking now. I can’t get territorial. I can’t get possessive. We’re fucking friends for crying out loud. But when I show up and notice the small changes in her makeup and the scent on her lips, I wonder if I’m losing my goddamn mind. All the DM’s were kind, but just like she mentioned, they all think we’re dating. I have five hundred new followers now.Five hundred!
I sit back down.
Let’s fucking do this.
I push harder, and she’s right in my ear again, telling me to push.
“Call me a pussy,” I say.
And I notice her breath catch. I can’t help but laugh. “Come on,” I plead.
“Are you a pussy?” she whispers.
“No,” I mutter, pushing harder. “No, I’m fucking not.”
“Are you sure?” she questions, and that hesitation in her tone does it. I push harder. Now I’m at the top, and a smile is playing on her lips. I can see it in my peripherals.
“Maybe,” I say.
