Page 5 of Forever the Bully
“Don’t cry. Please don’t cry. I don’t know why it’s bad Ms. Genovese likes me or that the other teachers do. But I promise I’ll make them hate me again if it stops you from crying.”
And I will. I never gave a single flying fuck if Vanessa or any of the other faculty thought I was a stuck-up prick.
“That’s ridiculous. Why would you sabotage everything we’ve spent weeks working on?” A single fat tear rolls over the apple of her cheek before disappearing into the dimple I fantasize about licking far more often than is healthy.
The tear distracts me, so it takes a beat too long to realize what she’s said. It’s a reminder that these weeks of falling deeper into love with Hazel haven’t meant the same thing for her. She’s no more in love with me now than she was three weeks ago. My heart sinks.
“You owe me a week still.” I know it’s a shitty thing to bring up. Especially when she’s obviously ready to be done with me. I knew this plan to make her fall for me was a long shot, but I really didn’t expect her to be so sick of me she’d shove me away at the first opportunity.
“I’m aware of our arrangement, Jeremiah. But I’m not sure what the point of it is, now. Either you got what you wanted and people like you, or you don’t care if they like you and there’s no point in doing this anymore. I just don’t understand what you want.” Defeat colors her words and tears at my composure.
“Give me one more date. Tonight. Then if you want to end our agreement early, I won’t stop you.”
If she chooses to end things, I don’t know how I’ll hold myself back. I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.
“Yeah, that’s fine. One more date. Tonight. Where do you want me to meet you? I think some of the coaches and PE teachers are planning to watch a hockey match at theMonarch Wing. Do you want to meet up there?”
The sports bar where pretty much everyone in Mariposa hangs out is the last place I want to be with Hazel if tonight is our last together. Even if it would mean being seen by half the town.
“No. No bars or group gatherings. Come to my house at seven. I’ll cook.” Over the past few weeks, we’ve taken turns picking up and dropping off, but neither of us has been inside the other’s home.
If tonight is my last chance to win Hazel’s affection, I want to do it at home where I don’t have to share her attention with anyone else. I want to be where I can show her how good of a partner I can be. A real partner. Not a bartered one as part of a bribe to get her to spend time with me.
“Um, okay. That’ll work. Want me to bring anything?” she asks.
“Just bring you. That’s all I need.”
And if there’s more truth in that statement than she hears, so be it.
Chapter Seven
Hazel
“Ithought since we played Twenty Questions for our first date, maybe, you’d want to play it again tonight. For our last date.”
Jeremiah sounds torn up about tonight being our last night as a couple, even if this was fake. If he’s not actually upset and I’m just hearing what I want to hear, well, I’m entitled to my delusions.
“That sounds like fun. I’m in.” Maybe, I can use the opportunity to find out which of our fellow teachers he’ll date next. Vanessa’s not the only one interested in him. I wonder how I can ask without asking.
“Do you want a tour of the place before we eat?” He gestures behind me to the hallway that presumably leads to the parts of the house not on display due to the open floorplan.
I must take too long thinking about it, because he shrugs and goes back to the stove. The missed opportunity stings. One of many such chances I guess I can anticipate. After tonight, theonly thing I’ll have left is missed chances and memories. It’s maudlin of me to obsess over that when there’s still time to enjoy his company, but it’s true.
“So which of us should go first?” I ask.
“Go where?” He looks confused.
“The game. You know, Twenty Questions? Who should ask the first question?”
“You just did. I’ll ask one now.” His answer is so quintessentially Jeremiah I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.
“What was your favorite thing we did this month?” It’s not the question I anticipated. I give it some thought.
“Probably the farmer’s market. It was funny watching you try to explain why fried butter can’t really be a thing.” I shouldn’t have found it so amusing, but the level of intensity when he’d argued with the vendor had been hilarious. Who gets so outraged about silly fair food? Jeremiah Graley does, apparently.
For every bit of how absurd watching him debate with the little old man selling batter-dipped cubes of butter on sticks, this moment tops it. It’s adorable the way the tips of his ears have gone red and his cheeks pinked with embarrassment.
“Yes, well, I maintain my opinion that the atrocity is misnamed and should be disallowed. How the city justifies allowing the sale of cholesterol bombs on wooden dowels, at an event designed to promote fresh produce, is baffling,” he grumps.
