Page 36 of Mad Rivals
Of course she’s reading into it.
Clem narrows her eyes at me. “What are you thinking?”
She knows. She always knows.
My traitorous phone chooses that exact moment to let us all know I have a new message. It’s sitting between us, and she grabs it before I can.
“New message from Madden Bradley,” she reads, and she hands the phone over to me.
I press my lips together, ignoring the butterflies that seem to be gathering in my belly.
I snatch the phone from her hand. “I’m sure it’s something about SCS.”
I open the message, and it’s definitelynotrelated to work.
Madden:Was there something different about your hair today?
I flash the screen at Clem, and she reads it.
“My hair?” I say. “He’s texting me on a Friday night to ask aboutmy hair? Hell yes, there was something different about it. I put actual effort in. I wanted tolookmy best so I couldfeelmy best for the meeting with the enemy.”
“He’s not the enemy,” she mutters, but I don’t even acknowledge that she spoke because I’m angry typing out a reply.
Me:Why are you texting me at 8 p.m. on a Friday asking about my hair? Shouldn’t you be out with your superstar buddies?
Madden:I was thinking about you.
I hate that my stomach flips when I read that one.
I hate that the butterflies seem to be flapping up into my chest.
Me:Why?
Madden:Because your hair looked different.
Me:I put a few curls in. Are we good now?
Madden:No.
Me:Why not?
Madden:Because you still haven’t agreed to dinner.
Me:And I won’t.
“What are you rage texting to him?” Clem asks.
I scoot over a little so she can switch sides and sit beside me while I wait for him to reply.
Madden:What about a drink, then?
Me:Why? So you can try to get on the inside with VBC?
“Don’t send that,” Clem sputters.
“Why not? What do I have to lose by letting him know what I really think?”
“Suit yourself,” she huffs, and she slips her own phone out of her pocket and moves back to the other side of the bench.
