Page 41 of Grumpy Darling

“Just a minute!” Paige called.

“It’s me.”

The door opened a moment later and Paige grabbed me by my hoodie, yanking me inside. “Thank God.”

Her shirt was drenched, and she was dabbing at it with a hand towel. “I need your honest opinion. How bad is it?”

“Are you talking about your top, or something else?”

“Oh no, you didn’t see me with Damien, did you?”

“Kind of.”

Her shoulders fell and she gave up trying to dry her shirt. “I’m such an idiot. He’s never going to talk to me again after that, let alone kiss me.” She slowly peered up at me. “And I guess I owe you an apology.”

“What? Why?”

“It turns out it wasn’t your fault I’ve never been kissed. I’m useless at this.”

I unzipped my hoodie, took it off, and handed it to her. “You’re not useless. It’s just a spilled drink.”

She gratefully accepted the hoodie and started to put it on over her wet shirt. “No, I also said all the wrong things and started giggling at the stupidest moments. Have you heard my giggle??”

“Could be worse. I like your giggle.”

“Could be worse? How would you react if a girl just stood in front of you and giggled like that?”

“I’d be extremely concerned. But only because nothing I say is funny.”

“That’s not true.” A small smile threatened to break through her hopeless expression.

“He probably just figured he was being hilarious.”

“But he wasn’t even making a joke,” she replied, frustration and disappointment spilling freely from her lips. “I made the conversation so awkward. I was just so in my head, it was a total disaster. I think I said something stupid about losing my phone—”

“You’re holding it . . .”

“Exactly,” she groaned. “And I asked him if we have chemistry.”

“Why would you do that?”

“They were supposed to be pickup lines. And I don’t know how, but I even started talking about gases!”

I couldn’t help but let out a stunned laugh.

“It’s not funny, Gray.”

“It’s notnotfunny.”

She scowled at me. But her scowl was just about the least terrifying thing in the world. It only made her look cuter.

“I’m never going to kiss anyone, am I?” She sighed. “I can’t even flirt with a guy. They should teach this sort of thing in school because it’s not nearly as easy as it sounds. It would be way more useful than algebra. What’s the point in knowing math if you’re going to end up a spinster?”

“You’re not going to end up a spinster.”

She didn’t seem to hear me as she turned and looked in the mirror. “No guy has ever truly wanted me, and they never will.”

My heart was breaking for her, and in my mind I was practically screaming thatIwanted her. I’dalwayswanted her. Maybe if I’d told her that at some point in the last decade, she wouldn’t be feeling this way. She’d know how perfect she was. She’d know she didn’t need cheesy pickup lines or a flirty laugh to catch a guy’s attention. She’d know there was at least one person in the world that wanted her just as she was, and he was standing right in front of her. I was desperate to make her understand how wrong she was about herself, but how could I do that without exposing my closely guarded feelings?

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