Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
Patrick
I’m heading to lunch with Sara the next day when she releases a squeal and ducks behind me.
“What the—?”
“Shh!” she hisses.
From a distance, I spot the reason for her distress. Oliver saunters toward us, a sour grimace pasted across his mouth. Is he always in a bad mood or something? What’s his deal?
I puff my chest out like it’ll help hide Sara—it’s a good thing she’s so short—and nod politely as he passes. A casual bro nod, if you will. New Kid only cocks an eyebrow, then shoots me a strange look before disappearing into the cafeteria.
What did I do to deserve that? Nothing, that’s what. Some people have no manners.
“That’s the math tutor I was telling you about,” a junior gushes to her friend as they stroll past us. “Helped me get an A on my last test—and he’s cute.”
Sara clucks her tongue, emerging from behind me. “Yeah, right. He’s not that good,” she mumbles under her breath. “And he’s mean.”
Poor Sara. She texted me last night to explain how awful tutoring went, then admitted she never followed through with the bet. I didn’t think she’d have the guts to confess, but I’d secretly hoped she would. If anything, it would have made her life easier.
“Well,” I start, “maybe if you’d talked to him like you said you would—”
She sighs then digs into her skirt pocket. “Fine. Here’s your stupid bet money.” Three measly bucks land in my palm. “I had to dig under my bed for change. It’s all I have.”
I slide the cash in my back pocket. “Dang, I feel kinda bad now.”
She snorts. “No you don’t.”
I grin, playfully nudging her shoulder. “You’re right.”
The cafeteria bustles with energy and conversation as soon as we step inside.
It always smells a little like chicken soup and Clorox, a weird combination, but recognizable.
Shoes squeak across the linoleum as students wander to their lunch tables.
Overlapping chatter echoes through the hall, interspersed with laughter.
Lunch is released by grade, so juniors and seniors eat together first. Sophomores and freshman get second lunch.
Since Sara and I are seniors, it means we eat together every day.
I’d even go so far to say it’s how we became friends.
I kept finding her at lunch and pestering her with random conversation, and she eventually chimed in.
I can’t explain why I was drawn to her, really, but I knew from the beginning she had a vibe. She’s giggly and fun to be around, matching my energy and cracking jokes almost as often as I do. Who wouldn’t want to be around someone like that?
We go through the motions of grabbing a hot meal before finding our usual seat. As I’m unfolding my napkin, Sara places her elbow on the table and cups her chin in her hand.
“Just look at him.” She sighs wistfully. “How is he so perfect?”
I follow her yearning gaze. Of course. She’s looking at Joe.
“I’ve been thinking,” she goes on, “I’d love someone like Joe to be my first kiss.”
I nearly choke on a piece of chicken I’ve just popped in my mouth. “You’re such a cliché. Just kiss whoever. What does it even matter?”
It’s not like we haven’t talked about this stuff before, but it hasn’t come up in a while. I used to think of Sara as my second sister back when we first started high school. Sure, I teased her a lot—and I still do—but we can talk to each other about anything.
So when she admitted last year she had feelings for me, I didn’t know what to do.
If I’d felt the same way, I would’ve told her.
But I didn’t. And I’m not the type to lead someone on—that’s just cruel.
I could never do that to my best friend.
Honesty was the best route, but I still hate the way it crushed her.
Anyway, that was forever ago. She’s moved on, and why wouldn’t she?
I just didn’t think she’d move on to Hotshot Joe.
“I’m not gonna kiss whoever.” She does a very poor impression of me. “Why do you think I’ve been saving my first kiss for so long?”
“Saving?” I laugh. “Yeah, I’m sure it’s been a real struggle rejecting all the guys lining up to kiss you.” I uncap my water bottle and take a drink. “Besides, it’s not that hard to kiss someone.”
“Hey, guys.”
Tammy grins at us as she slips into a seat beside me.
Sara leans over her tray. “Hey, Tammy.”
What does Sara need to save her first kiss for? It’s been a minute, but I’ve kissed a few girls. It’s no big deal. She builds things up in her head all the time, and this is one of them. I need to show her it’s all very casual.
And that’s when I get an idea. A great idea, even.
“I’ll show you,” I tell Sara. “Just watch.”
I turn to Tammy, cupping my hands around her face and—wow.
Her skin’s pretty soft. I don’t think I’ve noticed something like that before.
I’ve also never noticed she’s got a cluster of light-brown freckles scattered across her nose.
But then her clear blue eyes widen in confusion as I begin pulling her in close, closer—
Smack!
My hands fly to my cheek as Tammy grabs her tray and storms off, announcing to the table behind ours that “Patrick is a big fat pig!”
Well, that backfired.
“You know you deserved that, right?” Sara spears a piece of chicken with her fork. “And that was definitely sexual harassment. Don’t even think about trying that again.”
“That hurt.” I whirl around and catch Tammy’s attention. “I was joking.”
“Your joke wasn’t funny,” Tammy lobs back, turning away in a huff.
The girls around her scowl at me, whispers already circulating around the table. My face reddens, and I’m suddenly hot. Did someone crack the heat in here or what?
“Fine.” I focus on Sara. “That didn’t go as planned, but you get the drift.”
“Patrick, I don’t want to have my first kiss to just ‘get my first kiss over with,’” she explains, her attention jumping from me to Joe. “What’s wrong with falling in love with someone first?”
Love? Since when has Sara wanted to fall in love?
Seems like a gargantuan waste of time. Love means worrying about another person, making sure they’re happy and planning dates and always thinking about them.
Plus, love is complicated. You have someone else’s feelings to consider about, well, everything.
When would you have time to do anything else?
“You watch too many rom-coms,” I say, scooping up some rice. “They set unrealistic expectations.”
Sara blushes. “So someone falling in love with me is unrealistic?”
“No, I didn’t say that.” Geez, I need to explain myself better. I set my fork down. “I’m saying most guys don’t think about kissing like that.”
“Whatever.” She casts her eyes down at her tray and takes another bite.
After she swallows, she goes on. “Just because you don’t believe in love doesn’t mean I’m not going to have my perfect first kiss.
” Her eyes drift over to Joe again. “I bet Joe is a perfect gentleman. Just look at him. He looks like he cares, you know?”
From across the cafeteria, Joe passes someone a napkin, laughing at a joke we can’t hear. He’s sitting at Rose’s table, along with Mari and a few guys on the track team. Looks like he’s made himself right at home.
“You’re saying Joe will fall in love with you, then kiss you? Just like that?” I snap my fingers. “Even though you haven’t shared one conversation with the guy.”
“It’s not easy when he’s that hot, you know.” She tucks her hair behind her ear. “But I’m sure with time he’ll get to know me and realize how funny, cute, smart, sensitive, beautiful, and gorgeously charming I can be.”
There’s no denying Sara’s all of those things, but she’s never put herself out there enough to show anyone but me and Vicky.
“Ha, yeah, right.” I snort. “We both know you’re too chicken.”
She scoffs. “What? No, I’m not.”
“Need I remind you of yesterday?” I point out. “You can barely utter a single word when you’re around Joe. There’s no way you’ll engage in a real conversation where he actually gets to know you.”
I’m laying it on thick, but Sara needs a challenge. If I’m an instigator, so what? Maybe she’ll finally do something about it.
“I can so,” she counters, folding her arms over her chest in defense.
“Nope.” I pop my p, which further infuriates her. Her round amber eyes narrow. “You’re too chicken. It’s who you are, you know? Accept it. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Patrick,” she snaps. “I am not.”
“Are sooooo,” I singsong, fully getting under her skin now.
“Shush, you evil dorkasaurus rex.”
“You shush, bucko.”
“Bucko? That’s the best you got?”
Heads swivel in our direction. Whoops. We’re kind of loud. People are starting to stare. Sara, however, doesn’t seem to notice.
“Nah, we both know you’re a scaredy cat,” I press. “Give it up now, Sara Lin.”
“Okay, you know what, butthead?” She thrusts a finger at me. “Let’s make a bet.”
“Bring it on.” I rub my hands together like I’m a corrupt villain in a fantasy novel. “How much am I making today?”
“No more money,” she huffs. “This time, the loser has to do the other’s homework for a week.”
“Are you serious? Sara, you don’t even do your own homework.”
“I will.” She sticks out her hand, fearless in this very moment. “Deal?”
Sara hates homework more than she hates losing money, so this may work in my favor. And if she talks to Joe, then she can stop talking to me about Joe. I swear, if I have to hear her describe how dreamy his hair is when it falls over his forehead one more time—
I shake her hand. “Fine, deal.”
A smile reaches her eyes. She looks extremely pleased with herself. But before I can get another word in, she takes her last bite of food, leaps to her feet, and grabs her empty tray.
“Where are you going?” I call after her.
“I have until the end of the day tomorrow,” she tosses over her shoulder. “I’m gonna go prepare conversation topics.”
That dork. Preparing conversation? Who even does that? Wait, is she going to practice on index cards?
Ha! She so would.
I glance over at Joe. He’s listening politely as Rose goes on about something—probably her favorite conditioner or something equally trivial—and then I wonder if this bet was a mistake.
I can’t tell if Joe seems into Rose, but if he is, then that love story is inevitable. Rose always gets what she wants.
Agh, I should really cool it with the bets.