“Please don’t,” Harper deadpans dryly while I nod in approval—because I’m an idiot and I think it’s generous for Maddie to tag me. Not that I give a shit about social media, but I give a shit about her.
“Totally. That sounds cool.”
Cool?
Here I go again being a moron.
Maddie’s ring light casts a soft glow over her face and everything she points it at. Her fingers are quick and sure as she taps the screen, adjusting angles, zooming in on details. The flowers on the floor. Flowers already affixed to the trellis.
Me.
“Don’t worry,” she laughs. “I won’t embarrass you. Much.”
Her words hang in the air, and I can feel Harper’s hard stare burning into the side of my face.
Maddie steps toward me, leaning close, whispering in my ear. “No offense, but you should be careful who you spend your time with.” I pray that only I can hear her. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your image.”
Her warm breath and soft lips brush my earlobe.
I swallow a gulp.
With that she steps back, smile plastered on like nothing happened.
“Anyway! I’ll leave you two lovebirds to your decorating and helping the art teacher.” She tosses her blond hair. “Good luck getting unstuck.”
One withering glance at Harper and Maddie Miller spins on her sneaker and saunters off, squeaking with every step, leaving a cloud of vanilla perfume in her wake.
I try not to sniff the air.
As soon as she’s out of earshot, Harper lets out a long, exasperated breath. “What. A. Fricking. B-word.”
I mean, kind of? She didn’t have to whisper that rude shit loud enough for Harper to hear, but my dad always says girls can be petty for no reason. Right?
I shrug. “You’re just mad that you’re still glued to my hand.”
“I don’t think she acted like a B because we’re stuck together!” Harper sputters. “Easton, she’s awful. You need to get over her. She’s…”
I don’t hear any of the words falling from her mouth because my head is turning, following Maddie around the gym, watching her work. Film. Flirt.
Her confidence commands the room.
Sigh.
She doesn’t ask permission from anyone—people just move out of her way, parting like the Red Sea to give her space to work her magic.
Even Mr.Grazz, who spends his time hovering over everyone and micromanaging, steps back to let her do her thing.
She’s the kind of girl who makes everything she touches seem cooler, more important.
I’m stuck, glued to the spot—not just because of the literal glue on my body but because watching her is like watching some different reality. She’s glamorous and poised, and whowouldn’tbe attracted to that?
Right now she’s filming the blueprint for the decorations, the committee members who are standing around staring at the wall. Her camera captures every detail. The flowers we’ve been gluing onto the arch? She zooms in on that, too, as if it’s already worth a million likes.
Part of me is hoping she’ll turn that camera back on me, catch me in the act of helping out. But another part wants to stay in the background and watch her. I mean, currently, I’m a conjoinedtwin.
It’s not long before she lowers her phone and tucks it into the waistband of her skirt, meandering through the supplies and back in our direction.
“Okay, I’ve got enough footage.” She clicks her tongue. “Thanks for letting me crash your work session. I’ll be sure to give you guys a shout-out.”
