Yikes. I thought Tammy was one of Bridget’s closest friends up until recently, but this … this is a pretty tough dig to dish out.
“That’s not true,” Bridget says defensively, “Sterling and I have always dated off and on.”
“No, you haven’t,” Tammy says pointedly. “The two of you have talked about it off and on, but wasn’t your first date with him supposed to be like just a few weeks ago? For all your talk of him being your boyfriend finally, turns out you didn’t even go because you had to go out of town or something, and so what, Aubrey went instead? That’s really quite the story you’ve got going on, almost as good as the one about the smile in middle school.”
The rest of the girls resume their mindless chattering and I think that I’m the only one that hears Bridget mumble under her breath after that.
“It was high school,” Bridget mutters quietly, “and it was more than a ‘smile.’”
But no one cares.
No one is listening anymore.
No one but me, of course.
After lunch, I still have a few minutes before my next class starts, and as luck would have it apparently, so does Sterling. I see him sitting on a bench outside of the class building, so I walk over to join him.
Why not? It’s not like I have anything else to do right this second. Besides, there’s still a lot more that I want to find out about him.
Things I can use against him, of course. Not just because I feel an ache to get to know him better.
“Hey,” I say as he scoots over to make a spot for me on the bench.
“Are you stalking me now too?” I ask jokingly.
“Too?” he asks. “Who else is stalking you?”
“You mean besides Chase?”
He laughs at that.
“Yeah, I guess maybe I need to have a talk with him. Perhaps we need a new ‘no stalking girls that we’re trying to convince to help us out with things’ rule.”
This time, I’m the one who laughs. “Well, you have to give him credit for trying.”
“Does that mean you’re going to let Warren off the hook?” he asks.
The hope in his voice … it’s so unlike him, I almost consider it.
Almost.
“Unless you’re suddenly willing to tell me what I want to know … Not a chance,” I answer. “So, are you planning to go to the gala event?”
I’ve been wanting to ask him about it since I got my invitation, but as soon as the question leaves my mouth, Sterling starts acting weird—like really weird. His eyes turn downward, and he shifts uneasily on the bench as if he feels uncomfortable in his own skin.
“My father will be there,” he says. His face puckers as if he has just tasted something sour. “I like to avoid things with my father if at all humanly possible.”
I kind of already got the feeling that Sterling and his dad didn’t get along very well—I mean, he’s said as much himself—but this is the first time I’d ever seen him this uncomfortable.
I know what it’s like to have shitty parents that look at you more as a burden and a stain on their life than as a child to love and support, but even I don’t have quite as visible of a disdain for my father as Sterling seems to have toward his.
His dad must be really bad.
Worse than the kind who disowns you for getting kissed.
But then again, I guess I’m not that surprised that a high-ranking member of the Brown review board would have an arrogant chip on his shoulder. I’m sure he’s probably not a lovely man to deal with.
And I’m sure the fact his son has a drug problem isn’t helping their relationship.
I wonder which thing came first—the shitty relationship or the drug problem. Usually it’s the shitty relationship that’s the catalyst, but with Sterling there’s really no telling.
He’s easy enough to read in some things. But in others … in others, he makes no sense at all.
I almost kind of want to leave him alone about it. It’s obviously something that cuts him deep. But I need to keep my sights on my end goal, which means I can’t start growing feelings.
“Tell you what,” I say. “I’ll agree to go on another date with you, if you agree to take me to the gala.”
There’s a whisper of a warning in the back of my mind, but I shove it away before it can fully take form.
Sterling looks up at me with a chuckle. I can see his hesitation, but I can also see that he’s actually considering it.
“What makes you think that I even want to go on a second date with you?”
“Just a hunch,” I say casually as I shrug my shoulders, getting back to my feet.
He doesn’t give me an answer right then and there, and it doesn’t look like he’s going to. I can see that I’m going to have to work on him a bit.
This is a new thing. I’ve never been the chaser.
I’ve never exactly been chased either. Preyed on sure, but never chased.
It’s strangely liberating. And unless I’m completely reading Sterling’s face wrong over the next few days, I’m not the only one who’s enjoying the sensation.
That warning in the back of my mind tries to grow, but I keep stuffing it down. I tell myself I’m not actually asking Sterling on a date. It’s just a means to an end.
I’m using him, just like he would use me if I gave him the chance.
I think it would be perfect to have him as my date to the gala. Not only would it draw eyes and make Bridget green with envy, but it also might help me to look a bit more well-liked and less ‘slutty’ in the eyes of the review board.
I may have embraced that persona
