Page 39 of The Stalker Snafu

“Oh goodie,” Teresa said dryly. “And I have my Criminal Justice lecture in forty minutes. Should I make myself scarce afterwards in case you use the dorm to make it up to him?”

My eyes bugged out. “Teresa, it’s not like that. I’m not going to seduce him. I’m going to apologize.”

She didn’t look convinced. “Are you sure? Because he’s coming all the way over here. And isn’t makeup sex a sign of a healthy relationship?”

A lightbulb flickered on in my head, and I grinned at her. “That’s it—a sign! Please tell me you have markers and some poster board? Maybe some string? Oh, and what about a megaphone?”

CHAPTER 13

A Sign

Turns out Teresa didn’t have any poster board, but Sydney, our resident assistant, came to the rescue and donated two of our hall’s old “getting to know each other” posters to the cause. I was happy to see them taken down, since I found it pointless to hang our favorite foods and candy on a poster in the hallway. It wasn’t like anyone in our hall had bothered to deliver chocolate chip waffles or Red Vines to my dorm yet.

An hour later, I stood on the stone bench nearest the coffee cart in the quad. I was decked out in the sandwich board contraption Teresa had helped me into, with “Noah’s Girlfriend” scrawled across the front in beautiful bold writing courtesy of multicolored markers. We’d run out of time for the back, but I’d managed to doodle a little brown-haired guy in a blazer, holding a girl’s hand. The girl was unfortunately missing her head due to the time crunch, but I think it got the point across.

Noah never claimed to date me for my brains, although I wondered if he would still love me if I were headless.

Huh. Something to ponder later.

The megaphone was on temporary loan from the cheer coach’s office, and I really hoped she didn’t notice it was missing before I could sneak it back in.

Waiting for Noah to show up was torture, and it didn’t help being so close to the coffee cart when I was too nervous to stomach any coffee. It was just an endless loop of temptation, especially when Scott—the coffee cart guy—saw the posters tied over my shoulders and offered me a cup on the house.

When I politely declined, Scott knew something was wrong.

“Everything okay, Emma?” he called from behind the safety of his cart.

I tapped the megaphone against my thigh, restless.

I’d come to think of Scott as a valued friend, especially since he fueled my coffee habit every day. Plus, he was close to my shorter height, while I was generally surrounded by the taller side of the spectrum. His brown fauxhawk was leaning a bit to the left today, and his big coffee-brown eyes were wide with concern.

I nodded confidently, shifting my feet to be more centered on the bench as I scanned the quad for Noah. He was never late.

“Everything is great,” I answered, trying to stay optimistic. “Just peachy.”

“You sure you don’t want an iced caramel macchiato? It’s on the house. I’ll even throw in a surprise syrup for you to guess, too.”

The parts of my body going through coffee withdrawal whimpered at the offer, but I remained steadfast. “I’m good, Scott. Thank you, though.”

I swallowed nervously before smiling at another dawdling student staring at my sign and waiting for something to happen.

“The show doesn’t start until Noah gets here,” I told her.

I scanned the quad again and choked on my own spit: Noah strode down the sidewalk toward the coffee cart with his usual confidence. He noticed me at the same time and did a double take ten yards away.

Showtime.

I cleared my throat and held the megaphone up to my lips. My hands were sweating, and it took a couple tries before I could press the red button without slipping right off.

“I stand upon this bench as a pillar of remorse,” I announced to the quad, hunching my shoulders and trying to appear humble.

Noah froze in his tracks, brows shooting up to his hairline. Other students stopped, too, but I ignored them and took a deep breath.

“Noah, you deserve a girlfriend who stands up to her mother for you,” I declared through the megaphone, pulling my shoulders back. “A girlfriend who will go to war for you. I’ll make sure my mother understands how far beyond friendship you mean to me. Before I’m through, the whole world will know!”

Noah moved again—stepping closer to the bench—and apart from a few students snickering as they glanced my way, only a small crowd had stopped to stare.

“Although, to be fair, you did try to hide me from Julian, so this all feels a little hypocritical,” I muttered under my breath, but it still blared through the speaker. Wincing, I regripped the megaphone and lifted my chin. “Regardless, what I mean to say is this: I love you, Noah Kincaid.”