Page 42 of Choosing Her
It was one of the only times she had actually directly addressed what had happened between us at New Year’s Eve. I stared at her, not quite sure how to react to it. I would have loved to talk about it before this, to know how we each stood when it came to it, but until now, it seemed like she’d wanted to pretend the whole thing hadn’t happened. Although, could I blame her for that? It was exactly what I told her in the summer—that I loved Naomi, and we had to forget we’d ever known each other before I met her sister.
It had all been a lie. Such a massive lie. I didn’t want to forget Saylor. I didn’t want to forget any of it. But how was I supposed to tell her the mistake I’d made?
“I think we can have two special places,” I said, holding her gaze. “Don’t you?”
“Okay, class, let’s get started!” Mrs. Braun called.
Neither Saylor nor I looked away. It was like we were locked into a battle of sorts, a stare-down that neither of us wanted to back down from first. I was sure I would have won, if it wasn’t for Mrs. Braun appearing at my side and saying, “Mr. Cross. Would you like to start us off?”
I jumped and spun around to look at her. She was staring down at me through the glasses perched on the end of her nose and her hands on her hips. She raised her eyebrows and waited for me to dig through my bag to get the book out, while Saylor snickered silently beside me. I kicked her under the table, but it didn’t stop her from laughing. If anything, that only made her laugh harder, and I guess I couldn’t be mad about that because her laugh was the most beautiful thing I’d ever heard.
It was the thought of Saylor—her laugh, her smile, everything from that morning—that carried me through the rest of the morning. Through the nerves I felt for all of first period, through the sinking feeling as I walked into math class, and most importantly, through the whole time I wrote the test.
And by the time I walked out into the hallway, I wondered if I might have actually done the impossible and passed.
CHAPTER 22
saylor
“I probably didn’t pass,”Crossy said. I glanced away from the window, where I’d been watching the riding lessons below, to look at him. He was sitting on the couch and doing an assignment for one of the classes we didn’t have together, and every once in a while, would suddenly say something like that. He had a few lines he was cycling through—math isn’t that important anyway. I could do summer school, it’s no biggie. The guidance counsellor said I could drop the course without it going on my record.All of them had the same general sentiment—he was sure he hadn’t passed the test and he was trying to come up with every reason why he didn’t care, even though we both knew he did.
I bit my lip and tapped my finger against the window sill, thinking of what I could do to help him. With this being my first tutoring job, I had no idea how I was supposed to approach helping someone in this position. I wished I had some list of talking points or reassurances I could give someone that didn’t sound dorky or totally unbelievable.
I tried to think of what I did whenever I got overwhelmed. I’d never struggled with math, but other subjects did give metrouble. Biology, for one. And history. What did I do when I got annoyed?
There was one obvious answer, but I wasn’t sure it was something I was willing to admit to Caleb Cross—because when I got stressed, I followed the motto ofdance it out.I’d out my music on shuffle and dance along to whatever songs came on, until I’d forgotten all about my stress. It was a good strategy for me, but it was definitely not meant to be shared. The only person I’d ever done it with was Poppy, who was such a ray of sunshine that I knew she would never judge me for anything. Crossy on the other hand…
He dropped his pencil on the table and threw his hands over his face, letting out a yell of frustration.
In an ideal world, I would never tell Crossy about my secret dance parties. But the world wasn’t ideal and he looked like he needed this more than I needed my dignity right now, so I pulled out my phone and opened Spotify.
“Get up,” I said. It took him a good twenty seconds to drag his hands down his face so he could look at me.
“What are you doing?”
I inwardly sighed, wishing a fond farewell to past me who swore I would never tell anyone about my secret routine. It wasn’t that I thought dancing was all that embarrassing—it was that I was worried other people might. And if anyone made fun of me for this, it would ruin it for me. I hated that I let the opinions of others affect me so much, but they did and I wasn’t sure how to stop it.
“We’re gonna dance,” I said. I gestured for him to stand. “Come on, get to your feet.”
Crossy looked at me like I had two heads, but he stood up anyway, and I pulled him toward me, away from the coffee table.
“Why are we doing this?” He asked.
I shrugged. “Why not?”
I was unorganized with my music, so instead of making playlists on Spotify, I just shuffled all my liked songs. Sometimes, the method worked well and made sure that I didn’t get into a rut with the songs I listened to. But sometimes, it worked less well—like now, when I was looking for a fast song to dane to and instead got a slow classical song that I sometimes liked to study to.
“Oh,” I said, staring at it. My rule for the dance parties I did alone was that I couldn’t change the song, so I wouldn’t spend ages trying to pick one out. But it was different with someone else here, wasn’t it? I couldn’t make him dance to a classical song.
Crossy took the phone from me and put it down on the table. I frowned as I watched him.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“You can’t dance with a phone in your hand he said. And then he did the last thing I ever would have expected from him: he grabbed my hand and put his other hand on my waist, and started to dance.
It was that moment that moment I remembered what he’d told me at New Year’s Eve.
“You from a country club family?”
