Like you. Unsaid but definitely implied.
I was fairly accepting of this viewpoint, especially when it came to boys. I wasn’t pretty or talented on the guitar like Cat. I liked science and Percy Jackson and romance novels and creating habitats for my friends.
Snails and slugs. My best friends.
“Yeah, it is pretty gross,” Jason agreed. Mikey laughed at that, as if it was the most original opinion instead of a rehash of what he had already said. Jason met my gaze head-on, his green eyes all challenge, making it clear the snails weren’t the only thing that was gross. He and my mother would have so much in common.
The boy I didn’t know moved closer to get a better look. “You some kind of nerd?”
Really? How was I supposed to answer a question as stupid as that?
Ignoring him, I stood, pushed my glasses back into place, and moved between the snails and the threat. A quick glance down showed the grass-stained knees of my white jeans and the blue toenail polish that Violet had applied last night while we watched Little Women. Timothée Chalamet was the perfect Laurie, despite marrying Amy after being in love with Jo (I had hoped they might deviate from the book, but unfortunately, no). I didn’t really understand why the author had to make Jo get married to the German professor at all because she was a writer and, if she couldn’t be with Laurie, she would have been better off alone with her books. Violet said that career-oriented spinsterhood would be too modern a take for the time.
But not now. I was pretty sure career-oriented spinsterhood was the life for me, and the reason was the mix of disgust and fascination currently rolling off Jason Isner.
Who was fixated on my chest.
I had started developing late, but my breasts had grown in the last few months. No longer bumps on a log, they filled out my bra and looked far too obvious behind my “Easily Distracted by Snails” T-shirt, the now too-tight one Violet bought for me last year.
My cheeks burned when he should be the one embarrassed to be staring at me so obviously.
“Pervert,” I said, pushing my glasses back up my nose.
“As if,” Mikey responded in his friend’s defense, because the idea of Jason Isner showing any romantic interest in someone like me was incroyable, as the French would say.
Jason remained silent, just stared at me with those eyes, as hard as emeralds. I kind of agreed with Mikey—as if—but I also knew that boys Jason’s age were walking hormone factories, barely able to control their impulses and immature sexual feelings. Jason wasn’t interested in me as a person, just as a pair of breasts in his immediate sightline.
“Weirdo,” he finally said.
“Jock,” I snapped back, a rather weaksauce response.
He stepped closer, his breath smelling of fruity Starburst. “Four-eyed loser.”
“Dumb jock.” Heat flushed my neck and cheeks. I wasn’t a confrontational person as a rule, but I had to make a stand. For the snails. For myself.
A sneer curled his lips. “Slug Girl.”
“Jason!” A new voice entered the arena, one I recognized. Sean, Jason’s older brother, was approaching at a clip. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Jason said lazily, but there was a smirk there, too. He’d issued the final insult, and he knew it would stay in my head forever.
Slug Girl. I shouldn’t have minded being identified so closely with the things I loved—even if my research focus had moved to snails lately—yet the way he said it was so dismissive. So hurtful.
Sean turned from his brother to me. “You okay?”
“Of course. Just trying to keep the Neanderthals away from defenseless creatures.”
Mikey and Unnamed Boy were already retreating, likely feeling uneasy in an older boy’s presence. Jason remained, a young sapling looking to put down roots. That attitude would be useful for a future in professional hockey but would likely piss off any woman he dated. Far too intense.
I glared at him, willing him to leave. Finally, he turned away, but not before I witnessed an eye roll in his brother’s direction, one that said, why are you bothering with this waste of space, dude?
Once they were out of earshot, Sean checked in again with me. “Seriously, you okay?”
“I’m fine!” My gaze fell to Dwayne “The Snail” Johnson and Speedy, both now approaching the hostas edging the flower beds. The Great Escape, snail style.
I plunked down in the grass, my heart still thundering, determined to watch them to the end. I had come here to say goodbye to my friends, and Jason Isner had ruined it.
Sean took a seat beside me. “So what are we doing?”
