So what, a cute guy kissed my cheek. That didn’t matter. It didn’t mean anything at all.
And so what if that same cute guy was taking me out again to make up for how terrible tonight was?
I wouldn’t let myself get excited. I wouldn’t let myself think about him or how soft his lips had felt on my cheek. To do so would only be to get my hopes up, and I knew enough not to allow that to happen. I wasn’t born yesterday. I knew people like me never got their happy endings like in the books.
My hand dropped to my side as I let out a long sigh. After getting in the house, I headed straight up to the bathroom, looking at my dolled-up appearance in the mirror.
This was the girl Calum thought he’d see again, not the girl beneath the makeup, underneath the gentle waves of pink hair. Not me. Not the real me. The real me was something no one could handle.
When my eyes started to water, a hopeless desperation rising inside, I let my emotions wash over me in the silence of the house, grabbing one of Michelle’s makeup wipes to take it all off.
Chapter Six – Mason
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t waiting for my phone to go off, for me to glance at an unfamiliar number. I’d be a huge liar if I said I didn’t want to hear from Bree. When Friday passed and she still didn’t text, I grew a little worried. I really hoped she wasn’t put off by my pushiness, that I hadn’t stepped too far by basically making myself her partner whether she liked it or not.
I mean, the professor had told her it was a group project, that she needed at least one partner. Who else was she going to do it with? She didn’t talk to anyone else in class, didn’t have any friends there that I knew of.
Who better than me?
My overconfidence did waver as I waited for her to text. Thankfully I didn’t have to wait too long Saturday before my phone buzzed and I found an unrecognized number had texted me.
Bree. It had to be Bree.
Hey. It’s Bree. When do you want to figure out what we’ll do our project on?
Simple, straightforward. She used punctuation and everything, which made me feel like I had to, too. I lounged on the couch in the living room, the house quiet. I had a short four-hour shift at the store earlier today, and it was now lunchtime. I had the entire afternoon to myself, and night. Partying wasn’t really my scene, not with the crazy hours I worked sometimes.
I sat up when I read her text, my fingers hovering over the keyboard as I thought about what to say back. I decided on, Hey. I’m free all afternoon. Want to meet up somewhere and talk about it? I thought she might think that was overdoing it, so at the end of the message I added, The library at SCC?
Yeah, that was good. That way she wouldn’t think I was trying to sneak into her house or something. Bree reminded me of a lost, abused animal. The kind you saw on those videos on Facebook. Lost, scared, but capable of going through a transformation with enough patience and love. I wanted to be the one to bring her out of her shell, to see her smile and hear her laugh.
Hmm. Maybe that was a weird analogy. Maybe I should’ve gone for a different one.
I hit send, biting my nail as I waited for her to respond. What if she was one of those girls who waited hours to text back so they didn’t look like they were purposefully waiting for your response?
No, I didn’t think Bree was like that. I didn’t know her well, but she didn’t seem like the kind of girl who played those games. She didn’t seem like she played any games, actually. Closed-off, withdrawn, the very opposite of those kinds of girls.
I wanted to get to know her. I wanted to spend more time with her. She’d taken up my mind more often than not since I’d sat next to her on the day I was late to class.
Never thought I’d be grateful for being late, but here we were. Here I was, rather.
My phone buzzed, and I quickly read her message.
Sure. Meet at two?
I replied, You bet. It’s a date. My stupid thumb sent the message before I could take it back, so I quickly whipped up another message and sent it immediately: Not a date date. Just a date. A date at the library. You know what I mean. After I sent that rambling message, I ran a hand down my face, hoping she didn’t think I was some weirdo.
I mean, I was a little weird I guess, but I didn’t want her thinking it.
She did not respond to either message of mine, which made me worry a bit. What if I’d messed everything up? What if she decided against meeting me at the library? Shit. No. I wouldn’t think like that.
I got ready, showered and finally changed out of my work uniform. Might’ve put on some body spray, just to make sure I smelled good. I was pretty sure I heard that girls were drawn to certain smells, and therefore more likely to find those men attractive.
Did I want Bree to find me attractive?
Duh. Obviously. There was something about her I instantly liked, so yeah, I wanted her to be drawn to me like
