“No.” Definitely not.
“Track?”
“No.” You were correct the first time.
Easton narrows his eyes. “Mathletes?”
I let out a sharp laugh. “Yes, Easton. I’mhopelesslyin love with the captain of the math team.”
“Hey, don’t knock it—smart dudes pull.” He pauses, latching on to the subject like a kid with a piece of candy. “Give me ahint.”
I exhale, stalling.A hint? That’s dangerous territory.
Then again,so is this whole conversation.
“All right. A hint is easy.” I giggle. “He’s kind of an idiot.”
Now Easton is the one rolling his eyes. “That narrows it down to, like, half the population of guys at school.”
“You asked for a hint—you didn’t say how specific you wanted the hint to be.”
“Be serious.”
I prop my chin in my hand, pretending to think. “Fine. He’s a little cocky.”
Easton scoffs. “Still half the school.”
I press my lips together, trying not to smile. “Thinks he’s funnier than he actually is.”
“That could still be a lot of people.”
I arch a brow. “He’s a pain in my ass.”
He lets out a low laugh, tilting his head. “It’s starting to sound like you haveterribletaste.”
We both laugh, sharing the joke, but something inside me twists. He’s right—itdoessound like I have terrible taste. Because if I keep describing him, there’s no way he won’t figure it out.
Unless he really is that oblivious.
I shift, swallowing hard before I ask, “Then what advice would you give me? About guys?”
His smirk lingers, but his eyes flicker with something else—thoughtfulness, maybe. “The same advice you gave me—be yourself.” He pauses. “And I’d tell you to raise your standards.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, pulse thrumming. “What if I don’t want to?”
His smirk falters, just for a second. Barely enough to notice. But Idonotice because there is nowhere to look but at him.
Then, voice lower, just above a whisper, he says, “Guess that’s your problem, then.”
Is he messing with me? Or does he seriously notknow?
I shift onto my back, staring at the ceiling. “That’s a dumb answer.”
I risk a glance at my screen, and he’s watching me—really watching me—as if he’s trying to figure me out. But I am not a puzzle I want him to piece together.
“So,” he says lazily, lids heavier than they were before. “This guy…”
Oh god. He is not going to let this go.
