He shrugged. “I should have stayed closer.”
“It wasn’t your fault. And I totally don’t blame you.”
He looked up at me through his eyelashes. “You sure?”
I nodded, feeling my hair bob around my ears. “Totally.”
“So, we’re cool?”
“Cool.”
“Good.” He let out a sigh, the corners of his mouth turning up. “In that case…” He cleared his throat again, eyes going back to his hoodie lint. “I was wondering what you were doing this Friday.”
I shrugged. “No plans. Why?”
“Well, I was kinda wondering if you wanted to hang out. Maybe get some pizza or something.”
I paused. “Like another
“Not really,” he said, eyes still on the lint.
“Is this about a story? A new assignment or some-thing?” I pressed.
“No.”
“Then what?”
He shrugged. “I just thought that maybe you’d like to go grab something to eat. You know. With me.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Are you asking me out?”
I didn’t think it was possible, but I swear I saw Chase’s cheeks go just the slightest pale shade of pink.
“Sorta. Yeah. I guess. I mean, if you want to.”
I paused. Did I want to?
“What about that girl you were at the game with last week?” I hedged.
Chase finally lifted his eyes from the lint ball to meet mine, his eyebrows scrunching. “Carly?”
I swallowed. “Yeah. Carly.”
“What about her?”
“Um, don’t you think she’d mind you going out with me?” I asked.
But my sarcasm was lost on him, his eyebrows still scrunching. “Why would my cousin mind me having pizza with you?”
I blinked. His cousin.
Dude, I was so stupid.
“Your cousin. Carly.”
Chase shook his head. “So, what do you say? You, me, pizza? Sound like fun?” A lopsided grin broke through the deepening pink in his cheeks, his eyes warm and soft in a way that inexplicably made my insides feel warm and soft, too.
And I felt myself nodding.
“Sure. Pizza.”
Pizza was good, I told myself. Pizza was easy. Friends had pizza all the time. We were good friends having pizza on a Friday night. It didn’t need to mean anything more than that, and I was definitely not reading anything more into it.
For now.
Chase grinned wide enough that white teeth showed between his lips. “Awesome,” he said. Then he finally did get up from the desk, taking a step toward the door before he called over his shoulder, “It’s a date, then.”
Oh, fluffin’ fudge. Was Sam gonna have a field day with this one.
Acknowledgments
ALTHOUGH I GENERALLY WRITE ALONE, IN A CORNER OF A coffee shop, with my earbuds in so no one will bother me, there is actually a huge team of people without whom my words would never see the light of day, let alone a bookstore shelf. So I have to give a shout-out to them.
A huge thanks to my agent-awesome, Holly Root, for always having my back. Thank you to Erica Sussman, Tyler Infinger, and the rest of the incredibly talented editorial team at HarperTeen for all their hard work on this book. And a big thanks to the Romance Divas for being the bestest writing community on the planet.
Thanks to Nicky for being my go-to guy on all things teen, and for letting me steal him to be a character in this book. You rock.
And lastly, a huge thank-you to the teachers at the “real” version of Herbert Hoover High, where I went to school. It boggles my mind how anyone can spend that many hours in a classroom by choice and still have a smile. So thanks for the smiles, the hard work, and even for the homework. (Yeah, I said it. Crazy, huh?)
About the Author
When GEMMA HALLIDAY was sixteen she wanted to be either a rock star or Marilyn Monroe. Instead, she ended up working as a film extra, a teddy bear importer, a department store administrator, a preschool teacher, a temporary-tattoo artist, and a 900-number psychic before settling on the career of author. Since then, her books have been published in several countries, optioned for television, and have won lots of cool, shiny trophies, including a National Readers’ Choice Award and three RITA nominations. Gemma now lives in the San Francisco Bay area, where she loves watching reality TV shows, eating takeout pizza, and shoe shopping. She is also the author of DEADLY COOL. You can visit her online at: www.gemmahalliday.com.
