“Because I sat next to you.”
I shook my head. “No offense, but I wouldn’t talk to you unless I was forced to.”
“Of course, you wouldn’t.” He rolled his eyes. “Your fragile ego wouldn’t let you.”
“I’m just being realistic, Elliot. There has to be a reason.”
“Fine. We were assigned to be project partners.”
“Good. Yeah, okay. That works,” I said while shaking my leg.
“Cool.”
“And when did you ask me out?”
Elliot’s eyes drifted toward the wall behind me.
I turned around to see what he was looking at, but there was nothing there. Just a plain, ashen-colored wall. The muted tint made the room seem empty, with nothing else to show besides the overflowing abundance of books stacked to the ceiling. We both sat in silence, trying to think of plausible scenarios while staring at nothing in particular.
“After Mason’s party,” Elliot suggested with a shrug. “You thanked me for driving you home with a kiss. Then, I asked you to Homecoming and you said yes.”
“That’s actually pretty good.”
“I know.”
“Didn’t picture you as the romantic type.”
“My mom likes rom-coms. It’s the only thing she ever watches, and we only have one TV so…”
“Oh.”
“Don’t need your pity, Princess.”
“No, that’s not—I wasn’t…I’m not trying to be an asshole, Elliot.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“Look. I’m sorry. I just like to plan things out. I want this whole fake dating thing to work out, ya know? Gotta make it seem believable.”
“Why do you care so much? About your reputation and Prom.”
“What does it matter?”
“If you wantusto be believable, we need to know each other. Like actually. Not just some lies that we make up. Tell me something real.”
It felt wrong to talk to someone who wasn’t Jessie, but if I really wanted this lie to seem real, maybe admitting the true thing about myself wouldn’t kill me. I sucked in a deep breath.Just think of it like you’re talking to a therapist.
“It matters because I used to be bullied.”
The pressure building in my chest was lifted as soon as the words left my mouth. For the first time, my answer wasn’t the rehearsed spew of word vomit that consisted of my desire to be the most popular girl in school, but rather a half-truth. Still, though, there was so much more behind my response than he would ever know.
“You were bullied?”
“At my old school. My only real friend was my sister.”
“You have a sister?”
“I did. She died five years ago.”
