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)
Her words hang in the air, raw and unguarded.
Huh. I had no idea pageants were still a thing, or that she was involved in them. I thought she spent all her time online.
This is a side of Maddie I’ve never seen, and I’m not sure anyone else has, either—including her friends. Or mine.
“Maybe what’s left is someone worth knowing,” I say softly. “Someone real.”
“You are so clueless about how the world works.” She rolls her eyes, but it’s half-hearted. “Real doesn’t get likes on social media. Being fake does.”
Damn.
That is a cynical way to live. “Well, if that’s the case, I’m sorry for you.”
She sniffles and straightens her spine. Clears her throat again and looks at me, her gaze earnest. More sincere. As if she’s relieved we got all these harsh, truthful words and confessions out in the open.
“Ew. Don’t feel sorry for me.”
I laugh. “Sorry.”
“Ugh, I hate that I’m about to say this, but…” She pauses. “I owe you an apology.”
I blink. “For what?”
“For the way I asked you to prom,” she admits, her voice quiet. “Ambushing you in front of half the school was not fair. I didn’t think about how it might make you feel—or that you might want to say no. I wanted to look like a boss-ass bitch.”
I like this side of her; it’s refreshing.
“I almost choked on my fucking sandwich,” I tease. “It did kind of suck—but whatever. Thanks for apologizing.”
She nods, continuing to fiddle with the beads on her cell phone strap thingy. “Was there someone you were going to ask? Before I hijacked your plans?”
Her question hangs in the air. My chest tightens. Heart thumps. Pulse races.
“Yes, actually,” I admit. “There was.”
She doesn’t miss a beat. “Who? Harper?”
I hesitate, not wanting to say her name out loud. God forbid Maddie start making fun of Harper the way she was a few minutes ago, when she called her a—
“Yeah, Harper,” I confess, my cheeks heating up. “I was going to ask Harper to prom.”
“Oh shit.” Maddie’s hand goes to her mouth to cover her embarrassment. “I just called her a nerd.”
The look of horror on her face makes me laugh.
“You called her a nerd and a dork.”
Maddie sighs. “Ugh! I don’t actually think she’s a dork. I said that because I was being a bitch.” She gives her head a shake. “Okay, fine. I’m petty and a little jealous. You two looked so…” She waves her hand vaguely. “I don’t know—comfy and cozy together when I saw you decorating.”
I cough, choking on the spit in my mouth. She’s talking about the afternoon my glue exploded on my hand.
“Comfy and cozy is not how I would describe it.”
“You two were in your own little world. It was hard to miss.”
“It wasn’t like that,” I mumble under my breath. “Not exactly.”
“Please.” Maddie scoffs, leaning back in her seat. “Don’t try to downplay it. You were practically in her lap.”
I groan, running a hand down my face. “I wasn’t in her lap. It was glue. Literally.”
Maddie’s brows knit together. “Glue? What on earth are you talking about?”
I hesitate, knowing this is going to sound ridiculous no matter how I spin it. “I, uh, might have accidentally glued my hand to Harper’s, um, chest. I wasn’t in her lap—I was trying to get myself unstuck.”
Maddie stares at me for a heartbeat, face frozen in disbelief.
Then she bursts out laughing, clutching her stomach as tears gather in the corners of her eyes, no doubt threatening to ruin her mascara.
“Oh my god. You are seriously an idiot.”
“It was an accident!” I protest, my face burning. “The glue shot out of the tube and before I knew it, glue was everywhere.”
“You glued your hand to her chest? Jeez. I would kill you.” Maddie snorts. “No wonder you two seemed so close—you had your hand on her boob. I’m dying. This is the best thing I’ve heard all week.”
I cross my arms, trying to look annoyed, but her laughter is contagious, and I find myself roaring despite the embarrassment.
“Don’t tell anyone,” I beg. “Please.”
“Oh, I’m for sure telling people. Sorry,” she says, wiping her eyes. “This is fantastic gossip.”
After giggling a little longer, her laughter dies down and she looks across the car at me. Tilts her head.
Studies me.
“You know—I get it now.”
“Get what?” I ask somewhat warily.
“Why you like Harper,” Maddie states it simply. “She’s different, in a good way. She’s cute.”
Her unexpected admission catches me off guard, and I wonder if she’s going to drop a bomb or if she’s being nice to be nice.
My eyes narrow. “Thanks?”
She waves a hand dismissively, her smirk returning. “Don’t let my approval go to your head.”
Her approval? Now, there’s the Maddie Miller I know.
“Noted.” I chuckle. Then a thought occurs to me. “Hey. Know who you remind me of?”
“Blake Lively?”
“Good guess, but no—you remind me of my little sister, Phoebe. She’s a pain in the ass, too.”