I’ve made him uncomfortable. “It’s okay, I’m just messing with you.”
“I knew that,” he says.
“Of course you did, you can read minds,” I say, with a healthy dose of sarcasm.
“Well, I can’t read minds that are constantly changing.”
“It’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind.”
“I knew you were going to say that.”
“A likely story,” I say.
We grin at each other, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think we were almost flirting. Almost. Lucas seems kind and gentle, and I guess Jen was right—he is kind of cute. But, he’s definitely not my type.
“Not your type, huh?” he asks.
My face flushes and I know my cheeks are turning beet red. My heart flutters, and I feel my chest sweat. Was I thinking out loud? Certainly I’m not that much of a moron to actually verbalize my inner monologue? Am I?
“Excuse me?” I say, hoping I’ve misheard him.
“I figure, I’m not your type. Right? You probably go for the star quarterback kind of guy?”
“Don’t presume to know what type of guy I would, or wouldn’t go for,” I say with a raised eyebrow. He is about to see a sassy side of me.
“No, I’m just saying, that’s good, because you’re not really my type either.”
I raise both eyebrows now, and I can only imagine the look on my face.
“But that’s a good thing, because it means we can be friends without having to worry about all this other stuff,” he explains.
I play dumb. “Other stuff?”
“You know, the whole ‘sexual attraction’ thing.”
“I am not sexually attracted to you,” I say.
“See, it’s perfect. I’ll pick you up at eight.”
Lucas drifts away, heading to class.
“What?” I stammer.
“Eight. To get dinner,” he says.
“No!”
“What,” he says, innocently. Lucas points back and forth between us. “Friends. Friends eat dinner together. Eight. No sexy stuff.”
With that, he disappears into the crowd.
I stand there, slack jawed, wondering what just happened? Did he just con me into a date? Certainly not. This is absolutely, positively not a date. Right?
I’m standing in the hallway looking like a deer caught in the headlights. I'm trying to piece together how, exactly, I got myself into this non-date when I glance over to see Ethan glaring at me.
I’m mortified.
Has he been there the whole time? How much of our conversation did he hear? I feel like I want to explain to him that this is just a friend thing. But why should I have to explain anything to him? I don’t owe him anything—except my life.
The bell rings, and I’m late for class. Because of my newfound celebrity, near-death experience, and broken leg, Mr. Jenkins decides to take pity on me. Graciously, he doesn't slap me with a detention for hobbling into class a few seconds late. However, his leniency doesn’t last long. Jen’s incessant prying for information about my encounter with Lucas saddles us both with a detention.
After Jenkins’s class, I’m still agonizing about what to do. I want to call this whole thing off with Lucas, but I can’t seem to find him anywhere on campus. Jen won’t give me his number to call and cancel. Of course, she plays dumb and acts like she doesn’t have it—maybe she does, maybe she doesn’t? I don’t know why I keep freaking out about it. It’s not a big deal. It’s just two people going to eat. We all have to eat, right?
CHAPTER 10
BY THE TIME I get to chemistry class, I’m in a panic. Why do I feel guilty about going on a non-date with Lucas? There is absolutely nothing going on between me and Ethan. Other than the obvious. I’m exhibiting all the telltale signs of lunacy—my heart races, my stomach turns in knots, and I break out in a sweat whenever I see him. Not to mention the fact that I’m constantly thinking about him, even though I try not to. No, I’m not into him at all.
I take my seat next to Ethan and cringe in anticipation of the awkward
“I knew that,” he says.
“Of course you did, you can read minds,” I say, with a healthy dose of sarcasm.
“Well, I can’t read minds that are constantly changing.”
“It’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind.”
“I knew you were going to say that.”
“A likely story,” I say.
We grin at each other, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think we were almost flirting. Almost. Lucas seems kind and gentle, and I guess Jen was right—he is kind of cute. But, he’s definitely not my type.
“Not your type, huh?” he asks.
My face flushes and I know my cheeks are turning beet red. My heart flutters, and I feel my chest sweat. Was I thinking out loud? Certainly I’m not that much of a moron to actually verbalize my inner monologue? Am I?
“Excuse me?” I say, hoping I’ve misheard him.
“I figure, I’m not your type. Right? You probably go for the star quarterback kind of guy?”
“Don’t presume to know what type of guy I would, or wouldn’t go for,” I say with a raised eyebrow. He is about to see a sassy side of me.
“No, I’m just saying, that’s good, because you’re not really my type either.”
I raise both eyebrows now, and I can only imagine the look on my face.
“But that’s a good thing, because it means we can be friends without having to worry about all this other stuff,” he explains.
I play dumb. “Other stuff?”
“You know, the whole ‘sexual attraction’ thing.”
“I am not sexually attracted to you,” I say.
“See, it’s perfect. I’ll pick you up at eight.”
Lucas drifts away, heading to class.
“What?” I stammer.
“Eight. To get dinner,” he says.
“No!”
“What,” he says, innocently. Lucas points back and forth between us. “Friends. Friends eat dinner together. Eight. No sexy stuff.”
With that, he disappears into the crowd.
I stand there, slack jawed, wondering what just happened? Did he just con me into a date? Certainly not. This is absolutely, positively not a date. Right?
I’m standing in the hallway looking like a deer caught in the headlights. I'm trying to piece together how, exactly, I got myself into this non-date when I glance over to see Ethan glaring at me.
I’m mortified.
Has he been there the whole time? How much of our conversation did he hear? I feel like I want to explain to him that this is just a friend thing. But why should I have to explain anything to him? I don’t owe him anything—except my life.
The bell rings, and I’m late for class. Because of my newfound celebrity, near-death experience, and broken leg, Mr. Jenkins decides to take pity on me. Graciously, he doesn't slap me with a detention for hobbling into class a few seconds late. However, his leniency doesn’t last long. Jen’s incessant prying for information about my encounter with Lucas saddles us both with a detention.
After Jenkins’s class, I’m still agonizing about what to do. I want to call this whole thing off with Lucas, but I can’t seem to find him anywhere on campus. Jen won’t give me his number to call and cancel. Of course, she plays dumb and acts like she doesn’t have it—maybe she does, maybe she doesn’t? I don’t know why I keep freaking out about it. It’s not a big deal. It’s just two people going to eat. We all have to eat, right?
CHAPTER 10
BY THE TIME I get to chemistry class, I’m in a panic. Why do I feel guilty about going on a non-date with Lucas? There is absolutely nothing going on between me and Ethan. Other than the obvious. I’m exhibiting all the telltale signs of lunacy—my heart races, my stomach turns in knots, and I break out in a sweat whenever I see him. Not to mention the fact that I’m constantly thinking about him, even though I try not to. No, I’m not into him at all.
I take my seat next to Ethan and cringe in anticipation of the awkward
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