I gawk at him. Now he tells me?
I pop another kernel into my mouth and chew thoughtfully, debating whether I should say what’s on my mind. It’s risky, but the theater makes me feel undercover, like anything said here doesn’t count against you.
So I decide to be honest.
“I’m not paying attention,” I mumble out the corner of my mouth. “I’ve been sitting here thinking about prom.”
“Oh you have, have you?” He laughs softly. “Why does that not surprise me? And just so you know—you’re allowed to change your mind about it if you want.”
I turn to him, surprised. “Why would I change my mind?”
Prom with him was my idea! He is my ideal date.
Easton shrugs, his big hand digging into the popcorn. I have to move mine out of the way so his fits in the bucket.
“I don’t know.” His expression is impossible to read in the dim light. “Just thought I’d give you an out if you wanted one.”
I shake my head, a playful smile pasted to my lips. “We’re locked in, remember?”
He frowns. “How could I forget?”
Oh.
Oh…
The way he says it…
It’s not lighthearted. Not teasing. It lands heavier than I expect, laced with something that makes my stomach drop. My heart races, but not from excitement.
The inflection in his tone sends heat straight to my cheeks.
For a split second, his irritation is written all over his face, unfiltered and sharp. And it stings—worse than I could have imagined.
How could I have been so stupid? How could I have thought we were flirting, that this meant something to him?
I was fooling myself, that’s how. For Easton, this isn’t fun.
It’s not exciting.
It’s an obligation, a deal he got roped into.
I am someone he has totolerate.
“I…”…don’t know what to say to that. “Am I that bad?”
“Harper.” He looks concerned, like he’s tracking my reaction. “I’m fucking with you.”
Ah.
Well.
“Could have fooled me.”
I move my seat back to its upright position and struggle to stand, then shove the bucket of popcorn into his hands, toss down the Sno-Caps, and grab my purse. Head toward the stairs, taking them as fast as I can without toppling ass over teakettle, panic and embarrassment propelling me forward.
Omg. He must resent me.
I am such an asshole forcing him to go to this dance with me because I didn’t want to go dateless—as if beingdatelesswere a big deal. It’s not! Dozens of my classmates go stag! WHOCARES ANYMORE WHO GOES TO THE DANCE WITH WHO?
