“Ahh. I did hear something about that.”
“Right. Well. Marcus went to bat for me since he’s a class officer, too. Aiden gave him an option: I could either take a dare he gave me or pull the prank. As long as I did the dare, I didn’t have to steal the rhino head.”
Harper’s paintbrush is suspended above her painting. “I take it you lost?”
“Lost big-time.” I cringe, knowing what question is coming next.
“What was it? The dare, I mean.”
I scrunch my face, dredging up the thought of the public humiliation that got me into this mess. “It was…it was about Maddie Miller, actually. I had to ask her on a date.”
I tell her about it—the memory I’ve been trying to suppress since Thursday night. How I walked up to Maddie Miller at her locker and made an ass of myself in front of the student body. Or at least the students who were lingering in the hallway at the end of the day; I timed asking her on the date so it was almost immediately after the bell for last period rang, ensuring her minions wouldn’t be loitering yet.
I had a small window of opportunity and blew it.
To make matters worse, I had a full audience while I was getting my nuts handed to me. Gabe and Marcus and Aiden Tompkins (asshole extraordinaire) were watching from a not-too-respectable distance so they would have visual proof I’d completed the task.
I almost shat my pants.
Walking from my locker to her locker, I felt like I had lead feet, while Maddie looked like a vision. A model. An angel in a blue floral sundress, braiding her hair as she filmed herself, cell phone affixed to the inside of her locker.
Her head snapped up as I approached, mouth downturned with concentration.
“Stop. Don’t interrupt me.” I recall her blunt salutation. It threw me off, and from there everything went downhill fast.
Naturally.
“Hey, Maddie.” I cleared my throat, then shifted my feet as I realized I’d just done exactly what she told me not to. Dammit.
She didn’t smile, but she didn’t tell me to piss off, either. It only occurred to me later that she was irritated I had the audacity to approach her while she was filming.
“Hey.”
Asking a girl on a date was far worse than being on the ice for the first game of the hockey season. Both make me want to barf.
“It’s Easton.” I almost held out my hand for her to shake but then pulled it back, stuffing both hands in my pockets to keep them occupied. “Easton Westermann.”
“I know.” She leaned forward, hitting the red button in the center of her cell, then spun around to look at me. “You’re in my chem class.”
Actually, I’m not.
I have zero classes with Maddie Miller. Never have had classes with Maddie, never even close to it—but when we were younger, we played on the swings together and the occasional game of playground tag. Back in the day, we were little buddies, as most kids were in elementary school.
Pals.
Still, I didn’t contradict her. Who was I to tell her I wasn’t in her chemistry class? I didn’t want to embarrass her.
Nervous sweat collected around my T-shirt neck and pits, and if I hadn’t moved the dare along I would’ve had drops of it dripping down my forehead, too. She already thought I was a loser—a puddle at my feet wouldn’t help things.
“So. Uh.” Fuck.“How’s it going?”
That?That right therewas everything wrong with the world, me and my babbling, brainless question.How’s it going?
Eff my life. Seriously, eff it.
I glanced over my shoulder at that moment, at my friends—all of them transfixed by the sight of Maddie Miller leaning with her back to her locker, blond hair hanging in a thick rope over her tan, smooth skin.
Marcus, that idiot, dropped his jaw, adding to my insecurity, utter humiliation rolling over me as they watched my comedy act unfold onstage.
