Chapter 7
SEVEN
Sara
As it turns out, I did not lock myself in my apartment forever because Dad wouldn’t allow it, which is rude, considering my list of problems is currently out of control.
When he asked me why I felt the need to hide inside all weekend, I couldn’t tell him the truth. I mean, ME? Telling my dad about the kiss bet and Subwayboy? I’d rather give up hot pot for an entire year than hear what he’d have to say about that. Some things aren’t meant for Dad ears.
Anyway, at that point, I made chamomile tea, put on a cozy sweater, and then vented the entire story to my blog, which I found highly cathartic.
Nobody aside from Patrick and Vicky knows about my blog, which is fine. I don’t write for views or anything. It’s more of an outlet. A way for me to express my feelings—and I have a ton of feelings.
If I’m honest, I think I’m a decent writer. My words have a certain flair, and the more I write, the better I get. That’s what Vicky says, anyway, because she stopped by with food from Kiki’s Chicken Kitchen after she read my latest post.
“You have to leave the house eventually, Sara,” she told me before she left. “It might even be good for you to run into Subwayboy.”
Good for me? In what universe would that be good for me? I don’t even know what I’d say to him.
No, it’s best to remain cowardly and avoid him until I come up with a better solution.
Now it’s Monday, and I’m walking into calculus class when I catch several students removing a paper from their folders.
My stomach drops. The homework! I forgot to do it over the weekend.
This is not a great look for me, especially after my conversation with Mr. Day on Friday. I’ve got to try harder.
The bell hasn’t rung yet. Maybe I can salvage this.
I slink back to Patrick’s desk, hoping I go unnoticed by Mr. Day. “Hey, did you do the homework?”
Patrick looks up, his features displaying cunning indifference. “Are you saying you were home all weekend and didn’t even do the assignment?”
“I was, uh—busy!” I grab his worksheet. “Let me copy just this once.”
He tugs his paper from my hands. “That’s gonna be fifty bucks. Because you still owe me, remember?”
This stupid kiss bet is ruining my life.
I tuck my hair behind my ear. “Are you kidding me?”
He only raises his brows. “Wanna make it seventy-five?”
I slap my fifty on his desk, defeated. Because what choice do I have? This is my own fault, and I can’t let my calculus grade get any lower.
“It’s all I have,” I say.
Patrick pockets the bill then lets me have his worksheet. “I should really start my own business, don’t you think?”
I’m already back at my desk, furiously scribbling answers as fast as my hand will allow.
“Please,” I intone, not bothering to glance back at him. “Shut up.”
“Hmm.” The sound is overexaggerated as he drags his chair beside my desk. “Who can I bet you to kiss next?”
I jab his side with my elbow. “Will you quit talking about that? Can’t you see it’s a sensitive topic?”
Patrick’s teasing isn’t anything new. In fact, it’s his preferred method of communication within our best-friend dynamic. That’s just who he is, and I don’t mind—because I serve it right back. I’ve got my own comeback arsenal. And besides, we’re never cruel to each other. We keep it playful.
My hand cramps but I don’t let it stop me. I can do this. Only a few seconds left until class starts. Mr. Day will never know I blanked on the assignment.
“Okay, class, eyes up here,” Mr. Day announces.
I don’t bother following those directions, because I’m almost finished. So! Close!
“We have a new student, so I want you all to warmly welcome him to class,” Mr. Day continues. “Would you like to introduce yourself?”
It’s at this moment everything comes to a record-scratching halt.
I freeze, still hunched over the equations, and squeeze my eyes shut.
I already know what will happen when I open them—it’s just my luck.
The new student is Subwayboy. I’m so certain that I’m willing to place another bet with Patrick.
This would happen to me. Now I’m going to have to see him every single day in calculus class.
My gaze flicks to the front of the room and—oh.
Whew.
It’s not Subwayboy.
But oh my gosh. This boy has a dazzling smile, the kind that sets your soul aglow.
His green eyes scan the new faces before him, but he doesn’t seem intimidated or shy.
He’s totally comfortable, really. If I was starting a new school my senior year, I’d be terrified.
He only radiates outward friendliness—like a golden retriever.
His grin widens. “Hi, I’m Joseph! But please just call me Joe.”
Joe. He’s so cute. I can’t stop staring, heart thrumming like tiny hummingbird wings. He’s got a swoop of jet-black hair with stray pieces falling effortlessly over his forehead. And—wow. He’s tall. Extremely attractive. So much so that my eyes might have morphed into hearts.
Mr. Day picks up his chalk. “Go ahead and take a seat, Joe.”
Joe starts down the aisle, heading my way. Because the only empty desk is in front of me.
My breath catches in my throat. As he grows closer, our gazes tangle. Oh my. Two dimples frame his adorable smile, and the warm sunlight streaming through the window enhances his forest-green eyes. My world slows. From the way he’s looking at me, it’s like I’m the only person in the room.
His hand moves to scoot out his chair, and then he says, “Hi.”
He’s saying hi! To me.
Say something, Sara!
“Hi,” I manage.
He slides his backpack off his shoulders and sits, turning his attention to Mr. Day. I’m not sure how long I’ve been staring at the back of his beautiful hair when a wad of paper hits my temple.
My infatuation haze lifts. When I blink back to reality, I peer around and find all the girls are also staring at Joe.
Oh—well, then. It’s not just me who’s entranced by his appeal.
As I whirl around to figure out where that paper came from, Patrick glowers at me, aim poised to throw another paper wad. He looks more annoyed than usual, mouth twisted in a deep grimace.
He points at my desk. “Gimme back my homework.”