We were at her house again. Reece wanted me to come over, and I wasn’t going to say “no” to his epic setup in the basement. Tryouts were in a week, and I wanted to be ready. But Reece hadn’t shown up from school yet—somethingabout a grocery order pick-up for his mom. So I was at the Walterses’ house with Brielle. Alone. I was sure her dad was going to be thrilled.
“—Darcy, and don’t get me started on Wickham.”
“Huh?” I hadn’t been listening.
Brielle plopped onto a kitchen chair and stared at me in green-eyed disbelief. “Youreallyknow nothing aboutPride and Prejudice?”
“Sorry?” I took a chair opposite her with the table between us.
“No, I’m not mad,” Brielle assured me. “I’m just—woah. I thought everyone at leastknewabout it, or had seen the movie.”
“There’s a movie?” I couldn’t imagine furthering the torture.
“We can watch it!” Brielle looked way too happy. Especially after today. We’d been interviewed by Phoebe of the school newspaper. I’d held Brielle’s hand to make our “relationship” look more authentic—that hadn’t been as bad as I’d expected—and we could barely walk down the hall together without someone snapping a pic of us. Me and my big mouth. If I hadn’t told Jenessa about Brielle’s AI angle, none of this would be all that interesting. We could have flown under the radar, written our Lit paper for extra credit, and been virtually unbothered by the whole thing.
At least, that’s what I was telling myself.
Now, I was staring at a book that might as well be as thick as a loaf of bread, and I had Brielle staring at me with the kind of expectation that suddenly made me not want to let her down.
“What was the last novel you read?” She tapped the old book as though reminding me I wasn’t off the hook. I would read it, we’d make our presentation on this dude, Mr. Darcy and his girlfriend, and at leastthatpressure point on our fake relationship would be resolved.
“Well?” Brielle was waiting.
All I could think of was the fact that I really wanted Reece to get home. Heck, I’d even help unload the groceries.
“What was the last novel you read?” she repeated.
The question hit me then.
I stared at her. Nope, I wasn’t going to go there.
“Green Eggs and Ham,” I retorted.
Brielle gave me such a look of exasperation, I almost laughed. Almost. If she dug too hard, then this relationship stuff was going to get more real—and I didn’t want to go there. I mean, I was cool being friends and all, and I wouldn’t argue that she was pretty cute, but I wasn’t going to actually let herin. Not to the personal stuff.
“Hey, don’t knock Dr. Seuss.” I used my crooked grin on her again because it always made her blush.
This time, she didn’t. Brielle narrowed her eyes. “Have you everreada novel?”
“Yeah.” I didn’t say any more.
Brielle studied me for a second. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not telling me something?”
“Maybe because you’re nosy,” I quipped.
Brielle sniffed. “I’m your girlfriend—isn’t that my right?”
“Don’t push it.” I hadn’t meant to sound annoyed, but I must have. She was poking a sore spot with me.
Dang, if Brielle didn’t look a little hurt.
“Sorry.” She leaned back in her chair, pulling away from the table and the book—and me. “I was just teasing.”
Now I felt like a jerk.
I never could come out ahead when it came to books. To my studies. To anything my dad liked. My mom was cool—but she was Mom. Dad was like a walking library. He had two Masters degrees and thought studies were way more important than baseball or athletics. I mean, while most guys’ dads were too hard on their sports performance and pushed them to be the best, my dad was always disappointed that I even played ball in the first place.
It was just another thing my parents argued about.
