Chapter 16
Madeline
On Wednesday morning, Selena was in a good mood.
While we met to feed Mascot, she told me about her chemistry study session with Boden.
“He was so adorable. While we were going over this equation, he told me, ‘The reaction has a perfect rate when the two elements are highly compatible, kind of like us.’”
I opened the bag of cat food that I now kept in my convertible’s trunk. “That is adorable. I’m glad you guys are hitting it off.”
“There’s more.” She smiled and got a dreamy look in her eyes. “So I said, ‘Yeah, I feel like we’re bonding over this reaction.’ And then he said, ‘We better be careful or we’ll end up like sodium and water. Highly reactive and impossible to ignore.’”
“Wow,” I said. “How many chemistry puns are there?”
“So many,” she said.
I poured cat food into a bowl for Mascot. In return, he regarded me with aloof disinterest. I picked up the bowl, showing it to him, and called, “We both know you’re going to eat every last kibble as soon as I leave.”
He took a couple of sauntering steps toward us, then stopped and waited for us to go, like we were too threatening to trust.
“I haven’t even told you the best part,” Selena said, pressing her hands together.
“As we finished up our homework—and by the way, yes, I did tell him I thought we had great chemistry because that pun is pretty much required—he pulled a piece of paper out of his backpack, handed it me, and said, ‘I’m running an experiment.’ The paper had the words, Hypothesis: If asked to the homecoming dance, Selena will say yes.
He looked at me and said, ‘I need to test the theory. Would you help me out?’”
Ah, mad-cute and so on-brand for Boden. I put my hand to my chest. “Brainy and precious wrapped into one, just like you.”
“Just like me,” she agreed with a smile. “I told him that the preliminary data looked promising.”
“Wait, was that actually a yes?” Selena didn’t have much experience with guys. “That sounds like you’re thinking about it and might turn him down.”
She blushed. “Oh, I don’t think there was any uncertainty. Because after that, I kissed him.”
My mouth literally dropped open. Selena was usually one to dodge kisses from interested guys, not give them. I let out a squealing laugh that alarmed Mascot so much he darted under the garbage dumpster. “That’s a clear answer.”
As we headed back to my car to put away the cat food, I sighed happily. “Who would have thought that our grumpy physics teacher would end up playing Cupid and bringing the two of you together?”
“Actually, I think it was more that you blatantly ignored my instructions not to set me up with one of Boden’s friends that brought us together.”
I had finally come clean and explained to her that I’d been hinting at a double date.
I shook my head in mock disagreement. “Nah, that makes me sound like a bad friend. So I’m going with: It was Mr. Johnson’s doing. All of his time in physics has given him a magical ability to tell who should be with each other.”
“The only problem,” Selena said, her voice slowing, “is that Boden wants to go to dinner with three other couples. They’re splitting a limo, and there’s only room for four couples. I told him you would probably want to double with us.” The end of her statement curled into a question.
If I had a date, I’d want to double with them, but so far that hadn’t happened, and even if I did find a date, who knew what hoops I’d have to jump through because fake dating Cooper made everything more complicated.
I didn’t want Selena to lose out on her chance to go with Boden’s friends.
“Say yes to the limo,” I told her. “If I go, we’ll hang out once we get to the dance. ”
“You’ll find a date,” she reassured me.
“Right,” I said, though my confidence didn’t match my tone. My confidence had ghosted me.
Every time I saw Selena that day, she talked nonstop about how great Boden was.
And as a bonus, in physics class, Boden talked nonstop about her. So even though the two of them weren’t physically together, I somehow managed to be the third wheel.
I only saw Cooper once that day. He stopped me in the hallway as I was about to go into drama class and gave me a bag with the ends tied together. “One of my old jerseys,” he said.
“Oh. Thanks.” I’d forgotten I’d asked for it.
He glanced around, then lowered his voice. “Also, we can’t go to the Fire Grill for our first date.”
“Why not?”
He gave me a look that said I wasn’t getting it—which yeah, I wasn’t. We weren’t actually going anywhere, so what did the restaurant matter?
His gaze circled the hallway to see if it was safe to elaborate. Too many people were coming and going.
“I know a private place,” I said and led the way down the hallway to a backstage storage area.
We were tucked away among the ladders and old backdrops, but he still stood close and kept his voice low.
“Here’s the thing—if we’re going to be believable as a couple, you have to understand that I don’t have an allowance, much less a trust fund.
I pay for all of my own stuff, and since I don’t work many hours during football season, my mother knows I don’t go to restaurants with dress codes.
She talked to me about it last night, and she either thinks we’re lying about our relationship or I’m pretending to be someone I’m not. ”
“Oh.” I hadn’t thought of that and guilt turned in my stomach.
Before I could say more, he added, “I don’t want more of those mom-talks, so even though this is fake, we can’t say we’re going to the Fire Grill for our first date. For home-coming, maybe. But not an average date.”
“Sorry.” He was right. I was so used to my friends who didn’t think about how much money they spent, I’d forgotten Cooper’s life was different. And now I’d made him uncomfortable. “Sorry,” I said again. “I didn’t realize . . . I wasn’t trying to make you feel—”
“I know you weren’t,” he cut in. “I know I’m not the usual type of guy you date.
I’m not even the usual type of guy who goes to this school.
” He ran his hand through his hair in agitation until his curls flopped back across his forehead.
I’d insulted him without meaning to, and I felt like an idiot that he had to spell things out for me.
I needed to lighten the mood. “True, you’re not my usual type. You’re stronger than most of the guys in mathletes.” I reached out and squeezed his bicep. “I should’ve added buff to my top ten list. It is one of your best qualities.”
His eyes flicked to my hand on his arm, but he didn’t shake it off, and he hadn’t flinched when I’d touched him. I dropped my hand and realized how close we stood. I took a small step backward.
“Speaking of that list,” he said, “what stories did my mother tell you that made you put responsible, organized, and hardworking on it?”
I raised an eyebrow at him. Did he really think I hadn’t noticed things about him on my own—especially when they were obvious?
“I said you were hardworking because you not only practice football, you have a part-time job too. I said you take responsibility because you didn’t blame anyone else after our football team lost the game.
I said you were organized because you somehow manage to juggle practice, work, and school—and also I raided your PE locker and saw that you folded your jeans. Who does that?”
He lowered his chin. “People who aren’t slobs.”
“Only organized neat freaks,” I said as though I was agreeing with him.
He laughed, and just like that, things felt normal between us again.
I tapped my fingers together and nodded, admitting to more crimes. “I did ask your mom to tell me stories about you, but she didn’t produce any incriminating ones. Claire said your mom couldn’t tell me the one about the shoes. What’s that one about?”
“The shoes?” He had no idea what I meant.
“Yeah, the shoe story.” I couldn’t give him more details because I didn’t know them. “It wasn’t about how you made Claire run home from school every day. Although, I do think someone should’ve called CPS on you for that.”
I saw the moment recognition crossed his face. His eyes lit up with understanding.
“Well?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I’m not telling you.”
“Why not? Does it make you look bad? How bad are we talking?”
He smiled and shook his head again. “Not telling.”
Which only piqued my curiosity. “You stole some shoes, didn’t you?”
He walked past me, still shaking his head. “I’m going to be late for class. See you later, Mads.”
Well, at least he’d remembered not to call me Maddy.
I watched him leave, then made my way across the stage, my shoulders relaxing in relief. I’d managed to smooth things over with him after my Fire Grill faux pas—and that was a strange thought in and of itself.
In a very short time, I’d gone from wanting to plague Cooper to wanting to make him feel better.
c c c
I changed into Cooper’s jersey before my dad came home from work. The thing hung on me, huge and shapeless, but it was also silky and smelled like him. I may have sniffed it because method acting required me to.
I peered in the mirror and considered what it would be like to really be a football player’s girlfriend, to be Cooper’s girlfriend. Again, method acting.
It felt like something unachievable, the title of Cooper’s girlfriend. At least unachievable for someone like me, someone who didn’t belong to the popular clique.
My father came home from work, saw the shirt, and his eyes flicked over me unhappily. Cue the lecture. As he loosened his tie, he said, “I remember rendering a decision against that jersey.”
“You only ruled against me sleeping in it. I’m clearly awake.” I stroked the fabric. “Doesn’t it look good on me?”
He gave me a nice-try look. “Save those sorts of technicalities for law school. You’re giving the shirt back.”
“I might not go to law school, you know.” I hadn’t decided for sure and didn’t want to set false expectations. “The jury is still out.”