“You, probably,” he says at last.
“Me?” Is he joking? Hard to tell.
My gaze fixates on his tongue when he swipes it over his bottom lip, and he shifts, like he already regrets saying it. “Yeah.”
I swallow.Hard.
Because I don’t know what that comment means. And I don’t have the courage to ask for clarification.
“I should sleep.” He yawns. “My parents have been checking on me; they hate when I’m on my phone when I should be sleeping.”
“You’re the one who called me,” I remind him, cheek resting against my pillow.
“Well, I thought I had more to say.” He laughs quietly. “My dad has been up my ass lately about…everything. So I don’t want them to hear me—he would lose his shit if he heard me talking to a girl.”
“Ahh.” I nod in understanding, even though I don’t understand all that well. “Do they not want you to date?”
“I think he’d rather I didn’t. Not that that’s what this is, but—you get what I mean. It wouldn’t matter. He wants me to stay focused.”
I nod some more. “I get that.”
Easton is quiet again, seemingly deep in thought. Then, just when I think he’s going to end the conversation for real this time, he says, “What about you? Who do you like?”
Who do I like?
My brain short-circuits. I likehim—isn’t it obvious? Isn’t that what our kiss implied?
For me, maybe, but for him—maybe not. Maybe he kisses all his female friends. Or he just got caught up in the moment and this call is his attempt to smooth things over.
My heart drops.
“I don’t know,” I lie, face as hot as a thousand suns. “No one.”
He doesn’t believe me, laughing again—but softly, so as not to alert his parents. “Bullshit.”
I groan. Part of me wants to confess—the other part is terrified. “Why do you even care?”
“Dunno. Just curious. I mean, you’re helping me learn how to talk to girls—maybe I could help you.”
I roll onto my side, hugging my pillow and propping myself up by the elbow. “Stop being curious.”
Easton smiles at me. “That’s not how curiosity works.” His laugh is silent, eyes on me; he’s trying to figure me out. “So—no one at all?”
I hesitate. Long enough that his smile widens.
“Ohhh,” he taunts. “Thereissomeone.”
Obviously.
I roll my eyes, because what else am I supposed to do? Admit that it’s him I have a crush on? Not a chance. “Would you shutup?”
“Nope, don’t think I will.” He stretches an arm behind his head, looking way too pleased with himself. “Is he on the hockeyteam?”
“Oh my god, I swear—” I scoff, scrunching up my face. “It’s not a hockey player.”
Lies, lies, and more lies…
“Huh.” He taps his fingers against his pillow. “Football?”
