Page 6 of The Promposal

She nudged my shoulder. “Of course we’re going. The boys will come through.”

I made a quick wish that her optimism and faith in Trent wasn’t misplaced. That he would ask.

And that Jake would, too.

CHAPTER THREE

Jake had invited me over to his house that afternoon to “watch sports.” Turned out, he really did want to watch sports, and it wasn’t some kind of code word for make out. He’d been so busy last football season that he’d missed quite a few televised games and had saved them on his DVR.

He’d been a little standoffish at school all day, and I wondered if it was all the promatory anticipation in the air. Was he worried about how his promposal would stack up? When we had started dating, Jake had made one of the sweetest, grandest gestures imaginable. He had set up my favorite scene fromSixteen Candlesto tell me he liked me.

Maybe he was worried about topping himself.

We sat together on the couch, his head in my lap. His dog, Scooby, sat on my other side and laid his own head next to Jake’s. I lazily ran my fingernails against Jake’s scalp while he yelled at the television. His dark brown hair lay in soft strands across my fingers, like silken threads. I liked being with him, but this game was really boring. Scooby let out a yawn, which I totally understood. We probably even watched football in the same way. We enjoyed being close to Jake, were vaguely aware of some motion on-screen, but no real comprehension was taking place.

Some part of me wondered if he was using the game as a way to avoid talking to me. It was a weird feeling I kept having. Like something wasn’t right.

But I’d been so concerned about Ella and Trent ... maybe that was just bleeding over into the rest of my life? And I was seeing things that weren’t there?

I looked at my backpack, which I’d left on the closest armchair. It had my sketchpad and pencils in it. Maybe I could reach over and grab it, and Jake wouldn’t notice that I wasn’t paying attention.

“Oh, come on!” Jake shouted, throwing his free arm up in the air. That startled the dog, who got off the couch and curled up on the floor.

My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out of my pocket. There was a text from Ella. Curious, I clicked on it.

WAS THIS A SNEAK ATTACK? HAS DATE BEEN SECURED?

REPEAT, HAS DATE BEEN SECURED?

A few nights ago, Dad and Jennifer had made us watch some boring three-hour military movie where Ella and I amused ourselves by repeating the characters’ lingo. Just seeing her message made me smile, which I gathered was her intent.

That’s a negative. Repeat, negative. He has not asked yet.

He really did want to watch sports. Over.

I slipped my phone back into my pocket, not wanting to alert my boyfriend to the content of my discussion with Ella.

“Was that your sister?”

I needed to deflect his attention. I had discovered that if you said something sarcastically, whether it’s a truth or a lie, people tended to leave you alone and not follow up with further questions. “Possibly. Or maybe it was a text from my darling mother where she was trying to tell me how much she loved me, and it autocorrected to how much I constantly disappoint her.”

Jake gave me a “fine, don’t tell me” look before focusing on the football game again. This was the problem with having a boyfriend who knew you so well. My mom hadn’t been in touch for months. At my request. I had half expected her to reach out more just to spite me. But since my dad had stopped forcing her to interact with me with financial bribes, she had, presumably, happily moved on with her life.

“That’s a lot of violence over some change,” I said, wondering if I’d upset him by not telling him who I was texting.

“Change?” Jake repeated, turning his head to look at me. He didn’t seem angry.

“They flipped that coin at the beginning, and the entire game you’ve been yelling at them to get their quarter back.”

At that, Jake laughed and reached up to tug on my neck, pulling me down toward him. I let out a sigh of relief as his lips grazed mine, causing goose bumps to break out all along my forearms. We were definitely okay. We kissed softly, briefly, before the announcer started screaming, grabbing all Jake’s attention.

“No, no, no!” Whatever was happening was bad enough that he jumped to his feet, his hands balled up in his hair.

“Do you ever think you shouldn’t let games played by other people have so much hold over your personal happiness?”

He blinked at me slowly. “I don’t understand the question.”

“Right. I know I can’t fall asleep at night until I’ve found out what team had hurled what ball through what apparatus.”

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