"Uh-huh." He raises an eyebrow. "You know he doesn't date, right? At least not seriously. The media's been all over him foryears, but nothing sticks. In fact, when I think about it, he never really dated back in high school either."
Really? That's news to me. I thought he and Mia were together.
I fake a sudden interest in the jumbo screens, even though I'm dying to ask him to tell me more about Elias. "I wasn't?—"
"Sure you weren't." He laughs but doesn't push. If he only knew how many times I've googled "Elias King girlfriend" over the years and the sighs of relief when the searches yielded nothing. Fist pump!
The game itself is a blur of motion and sound. Elias scores thirty-eight points, including the game-winning three-pointer that has the arena erupting in chaos. I scream with everyone else, caught in the moment, forgetting to be self-conscious.
As the crowds thin, James checks his phone. "We're meeting Elias for dinner. He'll come find us once he's done with the press."
Wait, what did he say?
My stomach drops through the floor. This was so not part of the plan. "We're what now?"
"Dinner. With Elias." James looks at me like I've gone dense. "That okay? I should've mentioned it earlier, but anyway, no big deal. It's just Elias."
Just Elias. Right. Just the guy I've had filthy thoughts about. The main reason I always found other men wanting. No. Big. Deal.
"No, it's … that's fine." My voice sounds strangely distant. "I just didn't realize ... will he even remember me? "
James shrugs. "Maybe. He has a weird memory for details."
We wait in the hallway outside the locker rooms, where family and friends gather. I'm simultaneously praying Elias remembers me and hoping he doesn't. The former would be miraculous; the latter, well, disappointing, but less humiliating.
Either way, I really am not prepared to meet him when I look like this.
James scrolls through his phone while we wait, his expression suddenly shifting.
"Elise, did you see this?"
He holds out his phone, showing me Mia's Instagram post. It's the video from the coffee shop last week, artfully edited with a soft filter. The caption reads:So inspired by those who chase their dreams no matter how long it takes! Remember: success looks different for everyone. Don't let society pressure you into their definition of achievement. #BeYourself #ChaseYourDreams #AuthenticLiving #LiveLaughLove
Seventeen hundred comments already. Three thousand likes.
Humiliation burns through me like acid. Everyone from high school who sees this will know exactly what she's doing, showcasing my failure against her success. The reunion is two weeks away, and this is just the opening salvo. She's taken aim and has me squarely in her cross-hairs. No way she's going to back off now.
"I'm going to murder her," I whisper, already mentally picturing what she'd look like if the demon child in one of my stories showed up by her bed in the middle of the night.
The thought comforts me … a bit.
James squeezes my shoulder. "She's always been threatened by you. That girl peaked in high school. That's why she's still mean."
"Threatened by me?" I laugh bitterly. "The barista with the unpublished manuscript?"
"By you." He drapes an arm over my shoulder. "The smartest person in our class who didn't need to rely on her looks or her daddy's money."
The reminder doesn't help. All I can think about is walking into that reunion alone, facing Mia's pitying smiles and condescending questions about my life as a barista. Ugh, not to mention her mini mean squad. There really should be a statute of limitations on how long anyone can hold a grudge. Yes, I got better grades, and ignored her attempts to outshine me. I was never haughty or smug towards her.
Is it too late to back out now?
Not really, but if I don't show up, it means she's won. If I do show up, she'll have one hell of a time making fun of me. Why is life so complicated? Why can't some people just get over themselves?
"James," I say, the words tumbling out before I can stop them, "will you go to the reunion with me, like, I mean, as my date or my pretend boyfriend?" I try to sound casual, like I'm not pathetically desperate, even though I really, really am. "Just so I don't look like a total loser. Especially in front ofher."
Understanding crosses his face. He opens his mouth to answer?—
"Elise. I'll be your fake date."
