“I’m not going to cry at school. I’m done with that.”
Then I find myself thinking about Garrett’s text last night. He let me know we’d made the finals. Top three. Then he’d added:
GARRETT: I love you.
I give Mom a watery smile. “Waterproof is good.”
…
As the days pass, I’m proud of myself. I’m handling our breakup like a mature eighteen-year-old.
The baseball guys have been cool about it all, saying hello in the halls but not pressing me about what happened. The team is in the playoffs, and Garrett is running the broadcasts on his own, or so Cooper told me when they stopped by our lunch table yesterday. Mai has been crazy busy with AP exams, so I haven’t seen a lot of her, but even that’s for the best. She’ll be gone for her summer program, and I’m going to have to get used to doing without her. She’s finished the valedictorian speech but said I’ll have to wait to hear it with everyone else.
My job at the bookstore is also coming to an end. Even though I’m sad, I know there’s no one better for the job than Lianne. Saturday is my farewell party, and I’ll be ready to go after that.
Everything, in fact, is going great.
Except for Garrett.
At first, when he started turning up everywhere at school, I thought I was imagining it. Seeing him because I was thinking of him. But then I realized that no, he was purposefully putting himself in my way. Around every corner was a glimpse of blond hair or the sound of his laugh. And when I walked by, he stopped to call out, “Hey, Walters.”
Wednesday was the worst. He caught me on the way to English. He gave me one of his sexy half smiles combined with a little head tilt. The chemistry between us flared as hot as the bleachers in August.
“Don’t,” I said.
“Don’t what?”
What could I say? Stop looking so good? Stop making me want you? “How’s the hitting going?” I asked instead.
“You can’t avoid me forever.”
“Won’t be hard once you’re on that college team.” I knew he was making progress. I had Mai ask Jason who asked Evan. They said he’d been working with the pitching machine every morning before school and hitting live after school. “When’s the tryout? This Saturday?”
“Yep.” He stepped in closer. “You were right. I’m starting to see the ball better. I’m also missing you like hell.” His voice lowered. “I love you, Josie.”
I met his gaze, held his eyes for a long second. “My dad said he loved me, too. But he loved baseball more.”
“Nothing I say is going to change what you think, is it?”
“Nothing,” I tell him. “Move on, Garrett. I have.”
“Okay then. That’s how it’s going to be.”
He walked off.
Okay?
I don’t know how long I stood there until I remembered I was standing in the middle of the hall. I snapped my jaw shut.
Idiot. You got what you wanted. Be happy.
Chapter Forty-Five
Garrett has finally given up.
It’s official.
I was pretty sure yesterday when I only saw him twice and he didn’t try to talk to me either time. But this morning, there are no texts from Garrett. As Mai and I walk to school, there’s no honk, no window rolled down, no dark-blond head leaning our way calling, “Need a ride, beautiful?” He’s nowhere in the halls before first bell or between class. It’s literally been seven days. Seven! And he’s over it.
I check my phone for the hundredth time. Nothing.
“You’re going to get an arm cramp lifting that thing over and over,” Mai says.
“He finally got the message.”
“You’re supposed to sound happy about that.”
It’s lunch and we make our way to our usual table, brown bags in hand. Avi and Jasmine are already there.
“Did you guys pick up your caps and gowns?” Avi asks. “They’re made of Saran Wrap.”
Jasmine nods. “We’re going to drown out the band walking in them.”
From gowns, the conversation moves to the caps. We’re discussing possible slogans for the top when my neck prickles, telling me someone is standing behind me. I recognize Cooper’s body spray a second before he sets a tray on the table between Mai and me. “Hey, guys.”
Tucker and Anthony are suddenly at the other side of the table. I hear Mai’s sharp intake of breath but then everyone is shuffling around. Avi and Jasmine are forced to slide over, though Jasmine looks happy when Tucker sits beside her.
I roll my eyes. “Do you not ask before shoving your way in?”
“Ask what?” Cooper wedges himself in. His tray is loaded with pepperoni pizza and an energy drink. “Isn’t this cozy?”
“Did you guys catch our first playoff game?” Tucker asks.
I shake my head. “Congrats on the win.”
“Adams hit a two-run bomb,” Cooper announces, eyes shifting to Mai.
“Not surprised,” she says. “He’s got good hands.”
There’s a flare of something in Anthony’s eyes—but it’s gone so fast, I can’t read it. I’m not even sure if I saw it. His smile is friendly, relaxed. “Way to use a baseball term correctly.”
“Thank you.”
But her smile is still sad, and I feel shitty for giving Mai such a hard time about him. I was worried that she’d get in over her head, but I should have known she wouldn’t do anything reckless.
“It was a comeback win,” Cooper says. “Those are the best.” He wipes his fingers on a napkin, leaving orange streaks of pizza grease. “It was like the New England Patriots. Super Bowl 2017. You all remember.”
We give him blank stares.
“The Patriots were down twenty-five points to the Falcons. Twenty-five!”
Warning bells begin ringing in my head.
“Not even Tom Brady could come back from that. Stick a fork in them, everyone said. Until Tom Brady brought them back and
