Sacked in the nuts.
What the hell was I expecting? Her to be a damn delight? Giggle? Flirt?
YES. THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT I WAS FREAKING EXPECTING.
Shaking my head, I realize there’s only one thing for me to do: move on with my already shitty day. I grab my backpack and climb out of the car. Seriously, could Ibea bigger moron? Harper will hate it if she finds out I gave Maddie a ride—I have no idea what I’m going to say. Or how she’ll respond.
Just kidding. I know exactly what she’ll say:I told you so.
Slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I wonder how many of the students ambling through the parking lot saw Maddie climb out of my car. Better yet, how many of them are laughing at me behind my back?
I book it toward the entrance, sneakers squeaking.
“Yo, Easton!”
I turn to see Marcus jogging up, grin plastered on his face. He’s wearing that goofy smile like he’s got no worries in the world.
“Hey.”
“Dude, what’s up?” Marcus slaps me on the back. “You look like you’ve just been hit by a bus.”
Funny, ’cause I feel like I’ve just been hit by a bus. “Yeah, something like that.”
He scans the parking lot, his eyes following my gaze to where Maddie stands near the door, her laugh ringing out as she chats with some other girls before they go inside. Why couldn’t she have laughed like that with me? I don’t think she smiled once.
“Oh man, don’t tell me you look like shit because of her,” he says, lowering his voice.
“No way. Actually, I drove her to school this morning.” I’m trying to flex but the words come out flat.
“Wait. You drove her here?” His eyes are bugging out of his skull. “Dude, why would you—?”
“She needed a ride.” I cut him off. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
But Marcus doesn’t let it go. “Bro, you’ve got to stop chasing her. Maddie Miller loves no one but her own reflection.”
Annoyed, I clench my jaw—I do not want his unsolicited advice. I’m never going to admit I was wrong about her, and we are not having this conversation in the parking lot. Not this early in the day. No chance.
No way.
“Lesson learned,” I mumble, staring at the ground.
Marcus grips my shoulder. “Dude, you’re talking to Harper—we all thought you were going to ask her to prom. You can’t be sniffing around someone else. Macy wouldkillme if she knew I knew you drove Maddie to school. Like—tear my balls off.”
Tear his balls off?
I doubt that but give him a pity nod anyway.
He walks into school beside me, the hallways filling with students, chatter growing louder by the second. My dude won’tshut the hell upabout how lucky I am to have Harper, blah blah blah, piling on the guilt. It makes me feel like a dick for driving her archnemesis to school; I wonder what possible excuse I’m going to have to come up with to explain this away.
“Bro, Harper’s actually cool. Unlike Maddie.” He’s going on and on. “I dunno. That girl’s a headache.”
More like a concussion.
I grunt, my mind replaying every second of that cringey carride.
I don’t need to hear Marcus singing Harper’s praises right now. Not that he’s wrong—Harper is awesome. But I feel like crawling into a hole and pretending the whole morning didn’t happen.
As I round a corner, I spot Harper.
