Chapter 27
Twenty-Seven
Seriously, check out this article. We’re finally seeing the real Callie Carter.
GroupMe chat of the girls’ basketball team.
Luckily today is Friday, and I have the weekend to recover and think of a plan. I can win the crown and keep Zeke’s friendship. I can.
After school, Suzy, Zeke, and I took Mia to the aquarium.
Troy and Dana came along, and we had a blast. I even posted a few pictures of all of us to my Instagram page, still reminding people that the voting’s not done, though I doubt it will do any good at this point.
I need to shake things up in my strategy, but how?
Now Suzy presses the doorbell to Zeke’s house with me standing right behind her. Troy is taking Dana on a date tonight—I think they’re going axe-throwing— so it will be just us three for Chick-Flick-Friday.
Suzy charges into Zeke’s house after he answers the door, her arms full of movie treats. I walk in right behind her, feeling conflicted about being here. My parents—Mom especially—want me to stay away from Zeke.
I take off my shoes in the entryway and check my reflection in the small mirror hanging among the many family pictures. I take a deep breath.
Zeke leads Suzy inside, and she finds the couch immediately. “Nice place.” Suzy unpacks our bags of treats onto the couch. I follow her past the kitchen into the living room. The house smells like chili powder and tomatoes, and I wonder if Caroline made tacos for dinner.
“I brought the movie!” Suzy pulls out the ancient DVD from her purse, and we both squeal.
“Should I be worried?” Zeke asks, finding a seat on the couch in between the snacks.
Suzy and I smile at each other.
“It’s the best movie ever,” I say. “You’ll love it.”
Zeke looks at the cover while Suzy and I finish unpacking the snacks. “This movie is old!”
I laugh. “It’s a classic.”
Suzy holds up a gallon zip-loc bag, stuffed full of popcorn. “Air-popped popcorn from my dad, no butter no salt.”
“Bleh.” I toss the bag on the counter.
“Sour patch watermelons for Callie,” Suzy throws me my bag.
“Yes!” I tear it open and pop one in my mouth. Ecstasy.
“You like these?” Zeke asks. “They’re way too sour.”
“She’s a weirdo,” Suzy says. “Peanut butter M&Ms for me, and, Zeke, I wasn’t sure what you would like so I got some barbecue chips, some Twizzlers, and some double stuff Oreos.”
“Oreos, please,” Zeke says. Suzy passes him the package. “If Mia comes downstairs, hide the sugar,” Zeke warns. “She turns into a gremlin if she eats too many sweets.”
We get the movie going, and somehow I end up in the middle of the couch, between Suzy and Zeke. There’s plenty of room so no one’s touching, but it feels . . . I don’t know. Weird. I’m probably overthinking it.
The opening scenes roll through, and Suzy whispers to Zeke, “Be prepared. Callie can’t help herself. She talks through every movie, especially ones she loves.”
“Hey!” I say. “I do not.”
Suzy gives me a flat look. “You do.”
Zeke laughs. “I don’t mind.”
“Well, Suzy will be asleep within twenty minutes,” I say. “Twenty-five, max.”
Suzy hurls an M&M at me, and it bounces off of my forehead and lands on the couch. “If I fall asleep, it’s only because tennis practice is exhausting me.”
On the screen, Sandra Bullock is telling us about her family’s past holidays and how her uncle always fell asleep in the mac n’ cheese.
I dig out the M&M before it can melt and chuck it back at Suzy. “When’s the tournament again?”
Suzy grins. “See? It’s already begun.”
“The movie’s barely getting started!” I protest. “I just asked you a question.”
“And there she goes.”
I shove a candy watermelon in my mouth.
“It’s next week, by the way.”
“SHHHH!” I say.
Suzy smiles and pops back a handful of M&Ms.
Roughly twenty minutes later, when Sandra Bullock is saving Peter from the train, I glance over at Suzy. Her head is at an odd angle on the couch cushion, her mouth open. I nudge Zeke to take a look.
He glances over at her and grins. “She is out.”
“Told you,” I say.
“I love this part,” I say when the characters are in the hospital and the mix-ups are just beginning.
“The story writers made it believable that she would get in a predicament like this. And it’s so good for her character arc how they show—” My eyes get wide.
“I’m so sorry. Suzy was totally right. My dad and I love to pick apart movies together, what makes them work and not work.
” My face turns bright red, and I’m grateful that the lights are off. “I’ll shut up now.”
Zeke smiles. “I’d rather hear you talk, anyway.”
My blush deepens, and I hope Zeke doesn’t see. “Is that supposed to be a slur on the movie?” I tease. “It must be pretty bad, huh?”
Zeke shakes his head. He can’t take his eyes off me. “No. It’s wonderful.”
I clear my throat. I think I have some citric acid stuck in my throat. This must be why Mom’s telling me to stay away from these things. The throat-clearing turns into an embarrassing cough that almost covers up Suzy’s tiny snores.
“Let me get you some water.” Zeke stands before I can croak out, “I’m fine.”
He comes back with a glass, and I take a drink. Zeke sits back down, and am I imagining that he’s a tiny bit closer than before?
I try to shut up and just enjoy the movie, but I can’t stop thinking about Zeke’s closeness. His leg is almost touching mine, and his hand . . . it’s on his leg. The leg closest to me. Holy crap.
No. I am definitely overthinking this. I focus on the movie, and, I can’t help it, my mouth runs wild, analyzing and exclaiming over every part of it. Zeke doesn’t seem to mind. I think. Maybe it’s just the sugar. Yeah. I’ve had too much of it.
About halfway through the movie, Zeke’s hand slides closer to mine. My heart jumps. I put my hand on my leg, inches from his. What is happening? What are we doing? Is he even going to notice?
But then Zeke’s hand inches closer until our pinkies are touching, and a jolt goes through me.
Zeke carefully places his hand on top of mine. “Is this okay?”
“Yes,” I breathe.
And then our fingers interlace, and my heart rate skyrockets. His palm is warm and soft. His thumb pad runs up and down my hand, and I forget about everything else.
“You’re being quiet.” Zeke sounds breathless.
“I’m just enjoying . . . this.” Wow. I am such a dork. And I am so crazy for you.
Zeke’s hands squeezes mine. Our fingers fit together perfectly. “Me, too.”
When the movie’s over, Zeke lets go of my hand slowly. I miss his warmth, and I want to take his hand back. I want us to be a thing. I want it so badly that I ache.
I swallow the feelings bubbling inside of me and gently shake Suzy to wake her up. She snorts once and then jolts awake.
“WhatdidImiss?” she mumbles.
“You slept through most of movie, dork,” I say.
Suzy glares. “I told you, I’m exhausted.”
We make our way down the hallway to the entryway in silence, and Suzy and I gather our things and put on our shoes.
When I straighten, Zeke sweeps me up in a hug that makes my soul fly, but it’s over too fast. Then he gives one to Suzy as well, and a nasty bit of jealousy wells up in my chest. These hugs should only be for me. I want them to only be for me.
I should talk to Zeke, say something. Was that as amazing for him as it was for me?
Does this mean he’s okay with our friendship and maybe wants something more?
My over-analytical brain wants to treat this like a calculus problem and solve the equation of us.
I know he’s leaving at the end of this semester, I know he said he didn’t want any attachments, but has that changed now?
I want to figure this out, but Suzy’s here, so it will have to wait.
The whole way home in the passenger seat of Suzy’s car, my thoughts fly. What would I have to give up for things to work with Zeke? The Homecoming crown, definitely. My status at school, probably. People would label and judge me. The gossip sites would rip me apart. They would rip Zeke apart.
And Mom . . . I want so badly for her to be proud of me. To acknowledge my efforts to be perfect, to be a good cheerleader, a good daughter, good at anything . . .
My stomach sinks as I rest my head in my hand on the car door. Zeke is moving in a few months. I would give everything up, and then he would leave.