Page 71 of The Rebel's Guide to Pride

The last time Cohen and I had put up flyers in the square, he’d been in a rush. Irritation had fueled his every stomp. This evening was different, though. He fell in step with me as we traced the sidewalks. I was in charge, holding up the posters while he taped them. It made me feel like I had the first day I met him.

Casting a glance over at the monument, I remembered howCohen had told me about David Beggs single-handedly building this town. How it’d made me want to do something important. That’s what it felt like as I held another poster up for him to tape.

“Done,” Cohen said leisurely.

He followed me without trying to stride away. No hurry to leave or puffs of indignation. I kept waiting for the facade to crack, for him to turn back into a smartass. But he showed no signs, not even once in the last few hours.

“Do you remember,” I started, and he looked over at me, “when we first met?”

“Um…” He scratched at the faint dark stubble on his chin. “Elementary school?” he guessed.

“It was before that,” I said, a small smile at the memory. How he’d been clutching his retro camera to take pictures. “Right here in the square when we were kids. We played tag—”

“That was you?” he interrupted.

“I’mextremelyhurt you don’t remember me, Coco,” I teased.

His mouth twitched, a corner quirking up as he glanced at the monument. “Idorecall you vowing to do something important one day.”

My steps slowed to a stop, and I turned toward him. “Really?” I asked. “You remember that?”

“It made me want to do something important too.” He full-on grinned then, holding up the posters to say that we were doing it. “I won’t forget it, just like that day when you—What does Sawyer call it? Z-stepping?”

“Shit-tacular Freshman Fall.” My heart fell at the memory. “I lied that day.”

He bumped me with his shoulder. “I know that now, and I don’t hold it against you. Even though you totally crushed me.”

“I’m sorry just the same.” My words were soft, floating up and away into the twilight. I kept my eyes on the sidewalk as we moved along. We were on the precipice of the moment we’d both been dodging. “If anyone, uh, Z-stepped, it was you.”

My stride quickened with anxiety, and he sped up. “What does that mean?” he called.

“As soon as we…stopped being whatever, you immediately moved on to Geometry Derick.”

He reached out to put a hand on my arm, slowing my pace. “About that,” he began, going splotchy. “God, I feel like such a dick.”

“You should.”

“To be honest…” A pause as he twisted the posters in his hands. “I was trying to make you jealous.”

“Wait…what?” I gawked at him, seeing the boy who’d crushed me all those years ago. “Why?”

“Because I wanted to hurt you like you hurt me.” His face was completely red now, and it was so damn endearing I couldn’t be mad. “But you know, it was dumb. I should have respected your decision.”

“Hell, I don’t even respect my decision. I was too ashamed about my father to tell you the truth.”

“Yeah…”

I gave him a sidelong glance, and the warmth in his brown eyes was growing distant. “You could’ve at least picked someone else. Geometry Derick always smelled like deli meat. But I was jealous, just so you know.”

He didn’t laugh but grimaced instead, adjusting his shirt. “You don’t have to be nice to me,” he said, an edge to his voice.

“What do you mean?”

“I get that you don’t like me. I’ve been a dick to you, unintentionally led you on with the DMs, and, yeah.” He motioned at me, from my stomach up to my shoulders. “You’re you, and I’m me.”

“I don’t understand,” I said, unable to read through the thousand expressions flitting across his face.

“I know I’m fat.” He blinked several times, looking away from me. “I thought maybe…maybe we were picking up where we left off, but you thought you were flirting with Mason. And it’s been so awkward between us, and I know it’s because you only see me as a friend. Like how you said we were better as—”

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