“I should go,” she whispers sadly, taking a step back, and I instinctively reach for her. “I’ll see you Monday.”
“Finch,” I call for her, desperation in my tone.
She shakes her head, giving me a sad, strained smile. Her hands reach down, grabbing the hem of my hoodie.
“Keep it,” I insist, before she can take it off to give it back to me. Her movements halt and she hesitates, looking conflicted. “Keep it, Finch,” I urge her.
She nods, her eyes casting to the ground. “I’m sorry,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “This is supposed to be your night, and I completely messed it up. You should be celebrating, partying.”
I close my eyes, exhaling through my nose. “You didn’t mess up anything.” I take a step toward her, planting my hand on her waist. “But just promise me for the next bet he won’t tag along,” I tease, trying to lighten the mood.
She lets out a soft laugh. “Who says there’ll be another bet?” She looks at me skeptically, smirking a bit. When I don’t respond, her expression sobers, and she lets out a disheartened sigh. “I’ll try my best,” she promises. “He wasn’t supposed to come tonight but—” She shrugs miserably. “Somehow he figured it out and tagged along.”
Of course he did; he probably stalks her every move.
Somewhere off in the distance, a car horn blares, and I nearly lose it.
“It’s not him,” Olivia insists, reading my mind. She pulls her car keys from her back pocket, some humor shining in her eyes. “I have the keys.”
I let out a relieved breath, allowing myself to laugh a little.
“I should get going, though,” she says reluctantly, chewing at her bottom lip. “You really did do amazing tonight. Now go have fun, Bronx. You deserve it.”
I shake my head, trying my best to hide my smile. Stepping forward, I extend my arms, and she willingly walks into them. I hug her tightly, and before I pull away I plant a kiss on her cheek, watching it turn red seconds after.
Olivia tucks some loose tendrils of hair behind her ear, blushing madly as she backs away. Walking away toward her car, she flashes me one last longing look over her shoulder. “Bye, Bronx.”
“Bye, Finch,” I say, disappointment filling my chest as I watch her go.
Visit this link to discover what Olivia is feeling right now.
Sixteen
Up the Ante
Monday morning, my alarm clock goes off and I hit the snooze button at least seven times, missing my first class.
After the homecoming game, and after Olivia was rudely whisked away thanks to Rat Boy’s temper tantrum, I may have celebrated our win just a little bit. Or a lot. All weekend long. And I may or may not have a mild hangover currently.
I’m almost tempted to skip my second class, but I think better of it. It’s already halfway through the semester and I’m not sure how many classes I can afford to skip anymore with finals slowly approaching.
Half awake, I drag my ass out of bed and shuffle to the showers. After a quick shower, I get dressed and sling my backpack over my shoulder, heading to the nearest coffee shop on campus, in dire need of a caffeine fix to get myself going.
I walk into the sleek, modern space filled with students, the strong scent of coffee wafting in the air, tingling my senses. Standing in line, I look around and notice Delilah sitting near the windows, chatting with someone. As if sensing my gaze, she turns her head, and we lock eyes. She gives me a smile and a wave, and I reciprocate the gesture just before I’m up next to place my order.
After ordering my coffee, I stand off to the side and wait for the barista to call my name. It only takes a few minutes for them to make my drink and I’m out the door, walking toward my class.
“Miller!”
I look over my shoulder to see Delilah jogging to catch up with me, her dark curls bouncing with each step. I stop and wait for her.
“What’s up, Dee?” I ask, taking a sip of my coffee.
She takes a moment to catch her breath, adjusting her glasses and the emerald-colored cardigan she’s wearing with a white top and dark plaid pants. “I just wanted to apologize for the other night.”
I furrow my brow, not quite understanding what she has to be sorry for.
“Quinton,” she says. “I realize I’m the one who accidentally spilled the beans that Olivia and I were going to the homecoming game,” she clarifies.
