Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 100612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
It’s nearly unbearable.
“I don’t know.” I fiddle with an old teddy bear, playing with his floppy ear. “He can go to prom with anyone he wants. It’s a free country. I should let it go.”
Macy sits cross-legged next to me, her expression patient.
I know she wants to pepper me with a million questions and it’s killing her not to interrupt.
That’s the thing with Macy; she knows when to give me space. Right now I don’t know what I need from her, but I’m grateful she’s here; she was the only person to follow me out of the cafeteria to check on me.
Guilt eats at me.
She doesn’t know—no one knows—the secret I’ve been keeping.
“Macy,” I start, clutching my bear. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
“What is it?” She props herself up on her elbows so she can get a better look at my face. “You’re freaking me out.”
I close my eyes for a moment, trying to find the right way to explain the situation without making myself sound like the worst person in the world. There is no easy way to confess, and when I do, I’m going to sound like an asshole.
“I’ve been blackmailing Easton.” I suck in a breath, unable to look Macy in the eye, hiding my face beneath the pillow. The declaration detonates in the air like a bomb.
Macy’s jaw drops.
“What?” I peek at her as she scrambles into a sitting position. “Blackmailing? What the hell are you talking about?”
“I…I…A couple weeks ago I caught him stealing the Parker Lane mascot.”
Macy’s staring at me, utterly baffled. “The mascot? You mean that stupid rhino costume?”
Clearly Marcus hasn’t told her anything about it.
My head shakes. “I was in my backyard reading in the hammock and heard crunching in the woods. At first I thought it was just some random stranger—he was wearing the head and running and he tripped and fell and…”
“Why was he in your backyard?”
Has she never noticed that my backyard and the Parker Lane football field basically touch?
“It backs up to the Parker Lane field.” I nod, my chest tightening at the memory. “It was dark out—obviously—and before I could think twice about chasing him down, I had him on the ground. Cornered. I was furious, you know? Like, what the hell was he doing in my freaking yard?” I pause before continuing. “He was super panicked and I threatened to call the cops…but one thing led to another and we made a deal and…this is the hardest part to say.”
I inhale again.
“The deal was: I wouldn’t turn him in to the school or the cops if he agreed to take me to prom.”
“Holy. Shit.” She has no words.
“I know it sounds terrible,” I rush to say, “because it is, but I didn’t know what else to do! He can’t get in trouble ’cause he can’t lose his offers to play hockey in college, and I needed a date—it felt like the perfect solution to both our problems.”
“This is bonkers.” Macy nibbles on her bottom lip. “Does Marcus know?”
“I think Marcus and the guys know he stole the mascot, but we agreed we wouldn’t tell a soul about the prom stuff.”
I can’t meet her eyes.
The shame is too much.
“It was wrong. I know that.”
“Wrong doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Macy puffs out, sounding so much like my mother. She crosses her arms, brow furrowed. “Let me get this straight—you blackmailed Easton into taking you to prom, and now…” Her words trail off, and her eyes widen. “Now you like him?”
“I think so.” I wince. “Yes.”
I haven’t admitted it to myself yet—let alone said it out loud.
“I could see this coming from a mile away.” My best friend leans forward. “The second the two of you started spending more time together, I knew you were going to like each other.”
“Yes, well—because I’m a shitty person, he is going to prom with someone else,” I snap, immediately regretting my harsh tone. “Sorry. I just—Ugh, this whole thing is a disaster! He probably hates me.”
Macy is quiet for a moment, lips pressed into a thin line. “He doesn’t hate you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Neither do you.” She frowns. “Does he know you feel this way? ’Cause I’ve seen the way he looks at you when you’re not paying attention.”
My ears prick. How does he look at me when I’m not paying attention?
I resist the urge to blurt out the question, keeping my face neutral. Lord forbid I blurt out the words We’ve kissed. A lot. In fact, we almost kissed after you stormed out of the ice rink and I didn’t tell you. And not just sweet kisses; they were so hot and intense and overwhelming and—
I say none of these things.
Instead, I say, “Let’s not get carried away. He’s in love with Maddie Miller, or have you not noticed?”