“What’s going on with you?” Brinley wonders, throwing her bag onto the island. “Are you worried about the game tomorrow?”
It’s our first game, and I’ve been so distracted by Ember that I haven’t even thought about it.
“No,” I say, refreshing my email. “Just thinking.”
“About?”
“Nothing in particular.”
She laughs, then leans over the back of the couch and stares at my computer screen.
“The constant refreshing of your email would say differently,” she teases. “So, I’ll ask again. What’s going on with you?”
“Has Ember said anything about me?”
Refresh.
“Was she supposed to?”
Refresh.
“No.” I shake my head. “We just, I haven’t had time to work with her on the project this past week, and I guess—”
“She would’ve said something to me about it?”
“Yeah,” I respond.
This is pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. I’m Declan fucking Sanderson. I could sleep with any girl I wanted, and here I am, caught up with some girl who has no interest in me.
“She hasn’t.”
Refresh.
“Right.”
“What’d you email her anyway?” she asks. “And if you say it’s about the project, I will smack you.”
“I asked her to come tomorrow.”
“To the game?”
“Yeah.” I refresh again. “Do you think it’s too forward? I think we’re friends. Friends would want their friends to support them, right?”
“And her brother is on the team.”
“Oh shit.” I shake my head. “So, of course, she’s going to the game. He probably wants her there.”
“Sure, he does, but if she shows up, it’s not because of him.” Brin winks as she pushes off the couch.
“What do you mean?”
“Ember hasn’t been to one of Cam’s games since high school,” she continues. “So, if she shows up, it’ll be because ofyou.”
“And you’d be okay with that?”
I glance up at her, and she smirks.
“What exactly would I have to be okay with?”
