16. Declan
DECLAN
Five days until OA Con
Three hours. That’s all it took for hopes to get raised and then thoroughly dashed. Honestly, it might be some kind of record. Almost makes you wanna laugh.
Except my stomach feels like lead.
After Ava left The Dragon’s Den, I tried my best to regain my jovial mood, but it just wasn’t the same without her there.
Not to mention I was worried about whatever had made those little creases between her eyes.
So when the minstrels finished their second song—with frolicking from all but me—Hiro took pity and offered to drive me home.
I leaped at the chance, already formulating a plan to check on Ava without seeming stalkerish.
Only to discover the real reason she left—Tyler.
Tyler, who she’s allegedly not dating.
Yet.
Why? Why do I let her do this to me? Don’t get me wrong, it’s not her fault.
It’s not like she said or did anything to make me think she was feeling the same butterfly-feelings I was every time our eyes met.
(Hadn’t there been something, though? I could have sworn…) But I should know better.
All those years of pining after my best friend, only to get ditched like an old pair of shoes.
You would think I’d have crafted better shields.
And yet here I am. Scanning the cafeteria for a glimpse of blonde hair.
Hopeless.
“You still planning to skip school to pick up badges and check out the convention on Friday?”
Where is she, though? I see Tyler and the lacrosse bros sitting with her friend Stasia, but no sign of Ava.
“Declan.”
Wait—there she is! And she’s looking this way.
Should I wave? No, that’s stupid. But hold on, she’s raising her hand.
She’s waving and walking this way. Is she coming over?
Crap, I think she is. Do I have food on my face?
I knew I shouldn’t have gone for the garlic fries, my breath probably smells like a dumpster.
Wait, why is she stopping? Damn it, Tyler, why can’t you stay in your lane for once?
Aaaand there she goes, back where she belongs. As in, not with me.
I slump over, forehead to the table.
“Dude.” Hiro’s voice finally registers, and I reluctantly roll my face so that my cheek is pressed against the laminate.
His expression tells me exactly how pitiful I look.
Thank God Bailey and Zeke aren’t here yet.
Hiro takes the brownie from his tray and slides it onto mine.
Chocolate being his go-to love language. “Wanna talk about it?”
“Nope.”
He nods. “Heard. I’m gonna talk about it anyway. You know that, right?”
“Yep.”
“Excellent. So Ava.” He clasps his hands behind his head, gaze crossing the sea of high schoolers to where she now sits beside Tyler and her other friends.
“She’s great. Hanging out with her yesterday was a lot of fun, and I can tell she genuinely enjoys being around you.
And yes, I realize I played a big part in making that happen.
One might even say scheming was involved.
Not just by me,” he hurries to add. “Stasia thought it was about time the two of you reconciled the past and all that crap too. ’Cause like I said, Ava obviously values your friendship. But…”
Ah yes. The inevitable but.
Hiro grimaces. “I’m having some schemer’s remorse.”
“Oh?” I say flatly, face still pancaked against the table. “Why’s that?”
“It’s just, I knew you had a crush on her back in elementary school, but I thought after everything that happened at the end of sixth grade… well, I honestly believed you were over it, and just, like, missing your friend.”
“I was over it,” I mumble. Then, forcefully, “Am over it.”
“Okay, then.” He’s obviously not buying it but is too nice to call my bluff. “That’s good, ’cause that whole ‘just a prom date, not dating’ thing with those two seems like it might be shifting to, like, dating-dating. If you know what I mean.”
“I get it.”
“It’s the way of life, isn’t it?” Hiro continues, and I bite back a groan as he works himself up.
“The way of the world. People don’t want friends to lovers, they want enemies to lovers or rivals to lovers.
They want morally gray love interests, and brooding bad boys, not band geeks who spend their free time doing arts and crafts. No offense.”
I peel my face off the table and glare. “Dude. So much offense.”
“The grocery checkout isn’t lined with nerd romances,” Hiro goes on, fully oblivious to anything I’m saying. “It’s all hockey players and hot jocks. They’re Tyler Denning. Guys like us just aren’t meant to be leading men. But Ava Aimes? She’s got FMC written all over her.”
He’s not wrong.
I seek her out again without really meaning to, heart squeezing at the sight of her. She doesn’t seem overly excited to be sitting next to Tyler, but who knows? Maybe she does like him, and I’m just the pathetic friend who can’t get a clue and move on.
I grab my lunch tray and mumble some excuse about needing to hit the library before band.
I tuck myself away in a corner behind the magazine rack and take out my phone.
I pull up Grady Wells’s website and scroll through his most recent blog posts.
They’re chock full of tips and fun new ideas, the exact inspiration I need to refocus on what’s important: doing an awesome job at the workshop and securing that summer collab.
My phone buzzes, and an incoming text pops up on my screen.
Ava: What happened to the frog who parked illegally?
My lips twitch, just a little. She really is a nerd at heart, no matter how cute and popular she might be.
Then again, who am I to gatekeep geekery?
There’s no reason one can’t be both. I start to tap the expected response, but the sound of girls’ whispering on the other side of the magazine rack distracts me.
“Tyler Denning is so hot. He bumped my shoulder on the way out of Chem Lab yesterday, and I got actual chills.”
The other girl lets out a hushed giggle-gasp. “So jealous.”
“It gets better,” the first one says. “After he bumped into me, he totally turned around and said excuse me in the deepest, Hozier-smooth voice. While looking right at me.”
“Eep,” the second one squeals. “I would have died.”
“Right?” Overly dramatic swooning. “Were you at the game against Shoreline where he promposed to Ava Aimes? He got the marching band to play backup while he sang ‘Shout.’ It was the most amazing thing ever.”
It was actually only a small portion of the marching band. I slouch low into my chair and frown. And amazing’s a bit of a stretch.
“Ugh. If it was literally anyone else, I would be screaming right now,” the second girl says. “But Ava is basically his perfect match. Beautiful, smart, and—shockingly—seems genuinely nice. As much as I want to hate her, it’s like I physically can’t.”
Preaching to choir, sister. What I wouldn’t give to simply not like her. Like, at all. Everything would be so much easier that way.
“They’re going to be named prom king and queen for sure,” first girl predicts. “And now I’m picturing Tyler in a tux! YUM.”
The two girls roll into a breakdown of Tyler’s many, many attributes, but I tune them out as I stare at Ava’s message on my screen. Doing a breakdown of my own while I parcel my relationship with the once and future queen into a list of pros and cons.
Pro: We have history together, and lots of it.
Con: We have history together, and it’s not all roses.
Pro: She likes crafting and anime and makes lame dad jokes.
Con: There’s an excellent chance she likes Tyler.
Pro: She sat really close to me on the couch at my house and didn’t shy away from my multiple knee bumps at The Dragon’s Den, so she must be comfortable with me.
Con: Maybe she’s comfortable with me because she still sees me as an old childhood friend and nothing else.
Pro: …
Con: This is not going to end well for me.
I put my phone away without answering and start double-checking the list of materials I need to pack for the convention. Shifting my focus back to where it belongs.