Page 75 of Don't Puck His Best Friend
“So,” Maddie finally says as we pull into our parking spot, “I guess Plan B’s officially toast.”
I manage a sound that might charitably be called laughter, though it has no humor in it. “I didn’t even get through half of it. Sandwiches and root beer versus an ultimatum. Guess which one won.”
Back in our dorm, Maddie pulls the whiteboard and grabs a marker. She starts aggressively erasing our previous strategy.
“We’re moving to Plan C,” she announces.
I slump into a chair, feeling like I’ve run a marathon uphill. “He needs time to think, Maddie.”
She gives me eyes.
I sigh. “Do I even want to know what Plan C is?”
Maddie uncaps a fresh marker and writes at the top of the board in big, bold letters:MAKE IT UNAVOIDABLE.
“Your problem,” she says, turning to point the marker at me like a weapon, “is that you’ve been playing this safe. Sandwichesand root beer are cute, but they’re not changing the story in his head.”
I bristle despite my emotional exhaustion. “I think talking to him was a turning point. He said he needs to think.”
“Think is code for space, and if you give him too much space to over-think, it’s not going to end good. So,” she says, pointing at the board. “You do something he can’t ignore even if he wants to.” Maddie’s eyes have that dangerous gleam that usually precedes her most ambitious schemes.
My sink further into the chair. “That sounds like the exact thing that will make him hate me more than he already does.”
“Or,” Maddie counters, drawing a line under her heading with decisive strokes, “it’s the thing that will make him realize you’re serious. Even after the talk. He’ll know that you’re not just throwing breadcrumbs at this relationship and hoping for the best.”
I lean forward, pressing my palms against my forehead hard enough to leave marks. The idea of making some grand public gesture makes my skin crawl, but Cole’s words won’t stop echoing,I need time.
“What if he doesn’t want me?” The question comes out small. “Like... at all, Maddie. He told me that I don’t even have to choose, that I could just walk away from them both and move on.”
“He said that?”
I nod. “He did. So what if I do this huge thing, put in all this effort, and he just walks away? What if he looks at me like I’m pathetic and desperate and—”
“Then you’ll know,” Maddie interrupts, her voice gentler than it’s been all evening. “Honestly his loss. Let’s just do it for the plot.”
“The plot?”
She grins at me. “And because you’re going to marry him. I already know that you are. Then I’ll have an even bigger Maid of Honor speech.I cannot wait.”
“He lied to make you feel better. He does have a little sister I could make Maid of Honor.”
“That prick!”
I start to laugh because she doesn’t know him like I do. He has a funny sense of humor, likes to poke fun, and is nice to be around. I sulk in that. Maddie’s right, I can’t give up. I can’t let his suggestion get to my head.
“Okay,” I say, lifting my head to look at the board. “What exactly are we talking about here?”
Maddie perks up immediately, marker poised like she’s been waiting for this question. “Something Cole will have to face in front of others. Something that makes it clear to everyone—including him—that you’re choosing him.”
She starts writing options:game-day gesture,locker room hallway,press box announcement.
“Absolutely not to the press box thing,” I say immediately. “I’m not having my relationship drama broadcast to thousands of people.”
“Okay.” She crosses it out. “What about showing up before their next home game? Something visible but contained to the team area?”
My stomach churns at the thought. “That’s basically infiltrating his workplace to create a scene.”
“That’s showing up where he can’t avoid you and making a statement in front of people who matter to him.” Maddie taps the marker against the board. “Look, you can keep doing small, private gestures that he can dismiss, or you can do something that forces an actual conversation that doesn’t end with…” She makes a deep voice and says, “I need time to think, Harper.”
