Page 8 of Need You to Choose Me

“My brain went into unchartered territory,” I admit, opening a can of Coke and taking a sip of the fizzy goodness.

Sebastian should try getting a Coca-Cola endorsement next. I make a mental note to tell him that next time we talk. He’d get better sales than those polar bears ever did in the older commercials.

“Alex?” she guesses sympathetically.

I look down at the internship application to a local newspaper near my hometown in Vermont that I’ve been working on since we sat down in the library. “Badger said he’scoming home once the season is done. I don’t know for how long because I didn’t ask. Maybe just a weekend.”

The season is technically over since the Pittsburg Penguins also lost their game that could have advanced them to the championships this year.

Skylar’s brows jump up. “No kidding? I would have thought he’d stay in Pennsylvania to be near his team.”

I thought the same, but apparently, I’m not that lucky. When he signed on with the Penguins, I figured he’d stay in the Keystone State to train harder than any other rookie who got signed on. He always worked like he had something to prove, and I can’t imagine he’d stop now that he’s exactly where he wants to be.

Tapping my pen against the table, I blow out a raspberry. “Badger wouldn’t have lied about that,” I tell her, almost sadly. It was easier to have distance between Alex and I—out of sight, out of mind. Mostly. I could forget about everything we’d done when he was five hundred miles away.

Skylar closes her book and pushes it off to the side. “Speaking of Badger…”

Groaning because I know where this is going, I fidget with my soda can. “Don’t go there.”

“He’s cute,” she presses anyway.

She’s not wrong. Badger is cute in a goofy boy-next-door way. He’s…softer than I normally go for. And soft isn’t bad. Unless it’s a tire. Or, I don’t know, a basketball. But that isn’t my type. Granted, my type usually breaks my heart, so you’d think I’d be willing to at least try something new.

“And I always thought you two had something going on,” Skylar adds. “Why else would he show up at Fishtail when you’re working?”

“Because we have really good chicken wings and homemade bleu cheese sauce?” I offer, grinning despite the exasperated look she gives me.

The barisknown for their wings and homemade sauces. People flock to it for them, especially on Tuesdays when everything is half priced. It’s a broke college kids’ wet dream.

“Plus,” I say, “it isn’t like Lindon has many other options if you want to drink.”

Lindon is a small town populated heavily by the university during the school year, and Main Street is the only one lined with businesses—cafes, sandwich shops, restaurants, and bars. Students congregate to them because there isn’t much else to do within fifty miles.

“There’s literally two other bars down the street,” she points out matter-of-factly.

“And one of them closed temporarily after the police raided it for serving underaged kids,” I remind her, sticking my thumb out. I raise my index to add, “And the other one is full of seedy bikers and criminals. Not exactly college kid friendly unless you have a death wish or really bad taste in men.”

She winces. “Okay, fair point.ButBadger still flirts with you. And last time I was there, he ordered a burger, not wings.”

“He flirts with everyone,” I counter quickly, hoping to shut down this train of thought. It’s not a lie, either. He’s a flirty guy. Sometimes, I don’t even think he means to be. “Your boyfriend was a charmer too before he met you.”

A couple years ago, Daniel Bridges Junior was your typical flirty football player—a wide receiver for Lindon U’s football team. He was confident and quirky and good looking. But now he’s totally gone for my best friend.

It’s cute.

Sometimes so cute that I envy them.

I pride myself in being comfortable alone, but on the nights when all of my friends are busy with their boyfriends, I find myself just the tiniest bit sad.

Skylar shrugs, not letting me change the subject. “I know it may be weird because Alex and Badger were friends, but—”

“Sky,” I plead in a whiney voice. “Can we talk about anything else? Literally anything. Because I don’t want to discuss Badger oranyof his friends or how they might…act around me.”

Her mouth wavers downward. “Why are you like that?”

The brows I spent a lot of time tweezing and lining to perfection with my new brow liner this morning furrow. “Like what?”

Pressing her lips together, she studies me for a second before stifling a sigh. “Like you’re allergic to labels or the possibility that Badger—” I shoot her a look that she brushes off. “—oranyboy could like you. You know you’re amazing. It’s not shocking people can see it. I’ve never met another girl who can kick ass at video games, tell you the stats of a sports game,andteach you how to correctly apply eyeliner. You’re the whole package.”

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