The guy who knocked me on my butt the first day of school grins as he walks past. “You are nothing like I imagined, Lang. Respect.” He taps his chest like I’m privy to some kind of bro code.
I fan my face with both hands, wishing the ground would swallow me up. My cheeks are still on fire as another wave of mortification crashes over me. The hallway suddenly feels ten degrees hotter and impossibly crowded with witnesses to my embarrassment.
A muscular player with a buzz cut emerges next, towel draped around his neck. “Whoa, Lang! Taking initiative, huh?” He nudges his friend. “Think she got a good eyeful?”
I keep quiet. No way to explain this without sounding desperate or creepy.
“You’re braver than I thought, Lang,” declares a lanky forward whose name escapes me. He slows his pace and leans in. “Most girls just slip notes into our lockers. But you? Straight to the source!”
Bowing my head in a pathetic attempt at apology, I contemplate changing my name and moving to another continent. Why couldn’t I have waited five more minutes? Or better yet, sent a text like a normal person?
Two more players exit together, their voices carrying down the hallway. “Dude, did you see her face when she realized?” The taller one laughs, mimicking what must have been my horrified expression.
His friend shakes his head. “I’ve never seen someone turn that shade of red that fast. Like a stoplight on crack.”
Fighting the urge to slide down the wall and dissolve into a puddle of shame, I pick at my nails and stare at a fascinating speck on the floor. If only someone could invent selective amnesia. I’d empty my savings account to erase this day from everyone’s memory—especially my own.
“Hey,” says a quiet voice, making me look up. One of the younger players offers a sympathetic smile. “Don’t sweat it. By tomorrow, this will be old news.”
As much as I appreciate his comforting words, I feel like I’ll be forever branded as a “Locker Room PeeperCreeper.”
Theo finally comes out, and the sight of him stirs my anger back to life.
“How could you?” I demand, my arms spread to the sides “We agreed to keep this quiet, and then you go blabbing about it to the entire lunchroom!” The smile tugging at the corners of his mouth annoys me to no end.
“What’s the big deal, Chrissy? It’s not like I declared it over the loudspeaker.”
“You might as well have!” I can’t believe he’s acting so casually about this. “Do you have any idea how much this complicates my life?”
He sighs, shoving both hands into the pocket of his gym shorts, and looks at me like I’m being unreasonable. “We live together. So what? No reason to hide it like we’re breaking the law.”
“So what?” I might as well choke on disbelief. “You just don’t get it. I’ve spent the last two years of high school trying my absolute hardest to stay invisible, to avoid the spotlight, and to keep from being made fun of. And now, because of you, I’m on everyone’s radar! Are you aware of how many girls at this school like you? They’re going to hate me.”
Theo’s calm demeanor falters, and his eyes finally reveal a shred of concern. “Why should you care what others think?”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Maybe because I’m not like you, Theo. I don’t have this magic shield of popularity to keep me safe. I’ve worked hard to keep my head down, and you’ve—“ I flail my arms in hisface—”undone everything.”
He shakes his head, and I see frustration flash through his features. “You try so hard to be invisible, but that’s no way to live. You’re letting people like Paige and her friends control you without them even trying. I mean, you even hid behind cars to avoid them.”
My hands ball into fists. If I was bigger, I’d martial arts his butt to the floor. “For some of us, it’s easier to survive that way.”
His gaze softens, and he takes a step closer. “Look, I didn’t mean to make things harder for you. I thought that if people knew, you’d stop hiding. You’d realize no one can control your life but you.”
“Well, thank you for that unsolicited life advice,” I say. “I’m not interested in being part of some grand social experiment. I’m just trying to survive high school.”
“Chrissy, you can’t let other people define you.”
“And I don’t plan to.” I step back. “Do you have any idea what it’s like at the bottom of the social food chain? You’re Theo Pearson, Mr. Popular. You don’t understand what it’s like to be seen as . . . as a nobody.” Saying it out loud makes my lower lip tremble, and I fight the urge to tear up.
He rakes his hand through his hair and draws a slow breath. “And what about what I want? Does that matter to you?”
His question throws me off, and I blurt out, “Why should it?” I lift my chin. “You’re you, and I’m me. That won’t ever change.”
There’s a flicker in his eyes—hurt, maybe, or anger. For a second, he just looks at me, like he’s waiting for me to take itback, but I don’t. I stand my ground, even as the sting of my own words settles in my chest.
He nods as his jaw ticks. “Fine. I get it.” The distance between us grows as he withdraws. “If that’s how you feel, I guess there’s nothing left to say.”
The hallway falls silent now, the weight of everything said jammed between us like a brick wall. My heartbeat is so loud I wonder if he can hear it. I can’t let guilt seep into me, though. I just can’t. Letting someone like Theo in was never part of the survival plan.
