“Is there anything you don’t believe in?” I ask her.
“Coincidences.”
Her gaze pins me for a moment, and I don’t look away. I’ve never questioned it before, but sitting across from Chloe, I wonder if this is just a chance, maybe it’s a chance I want to believe in.
“Bellisima Chloe and Maverick.” Enzo carries a tray of the pizzas we ordered and another four that we did not. “What else?” he asks, setting them down on the table.
“I think we’re good, Enzo. Thank you.”
“Yes, thank you, Enzo. This looks incredible.”
“You come get me if you need anything, okay?”
“Thank you,” I say again.
Enzo walks away and I grab the red pepper flakes as Chloe pulls a slice of pizza and sets it on her plate.
“Why don’t you tell me something about you. Besides the fact that you don’t believe in anything.”
“What do you want to know?”
“I don’t know. Tell me something a real girlfriend would know about you.”
“I wouldn’t have a real girlfriend.”
“Why is that?” she asks.
She’s let it be known twice now that this isn’t a date, so theoretically, I should be able to tell her. I should be able to explain that there's a fine line between what people think they know about someone and who they actually are. That I don’t want to deal with the fallout of disappointing anyone whenthey realize I’m not the guy they decided I was. Plus, she’s not wrong. My loyalty doesn’t come in halves. When I give it, I give it all. The words are right there on the tip of my tongue, and this kind of honesty feels almost too easy for someone I hardly know.
But when I watch Chloe’s lips move as she chews her pizza, completely unaware of the truth I so desperately want to share with her, I realize she’s already seeing me more clearly than most anyone else does. And the truth is, I’m not yet ready to find out what happens if she decides she doesn't like what she sees.
“I just haven’t found someone I’m ready to commit to yet.”
For the first time since we sat down, she looks away, and I swear I catch a flicker of disappointment in her eyes.
13
chloe
I makesure to sit in the third row on the left side of the lecture hall. Professors don’t want to talk with their chins tucked to their chests, looking down at the first two rows, and they’re not going to risk a crick by looking beyond the fourth. The third row gives perfect eye contact, and they spend more time on the side closest to their desk. Easy access to notes and coffee. So, here I am. I’m probably not the only person who’s picked up on this, given that the seats on either side of me are empty.
My hand freezes halfway to my bag when Nathan enters from the far side of the room. His eyes scan the rows almost as if he’s looking for something, and when they find me, he smiles and heads straight toward me.
“Chloe,” he greets me, sitting down in the empty seat beside mine.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m taking this class.” He laughs like it’s obvious.
I look around the room which was overflowing with students sitting on the floor the first week, hoping others would drop out and they would be first in line on the waitlist. It was only last week when Professor Soto announced no onehad dropped, and easily thirty students mass-exited with a groan.
“How did you get in?”
“Coach talked to my advisor.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket, not bothering to look at me. “I just told him I needed to take this class, and he was able to pull some strings.”
I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve overlooked some of Nathan’s flaws over the past few years. I believe that if you love someone, you love them flaws and all. But one thing I’ve always noticed is histhe world revolves around meattitude. It’s always been something small that bugged me about him, and it wasn’t ever enough to put me off, but something about him working the system doesn’t sit right with me. Everyone else played by the rules and still didn’t make the cut, yet he ends up here anyway. But I also know he doesn’t actuallyneedthis class. Which means the only other explanation would be he talked his way into the class for a reason. And my chest expands at the idea of the reason being me.
As quickly as it comes, I shove down the spark on the match of hope that thought starts inside me, and remind myself that every time I think it’s going to be different, it never is.
