Page 50 of Don't Hate the Player
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” she says warily.
“I’m driving one of my competitors to theGLOtournament. It’s good sportsmanship.”
“Yeah, no.”
“It’s good sportswomanship?”
“Lia. I’m talking about Jake, notGROW.”
“It’sGLO, and it’s fine. I also know what I’m doing with Jake.” Nope, that didn’t sound right. “I’m not doing anything with Jake. I know what I’m doing because it’s nothing. Everyone knows how to do nothing.”
I feel Penny’s sigh reverberate in my spine.
“It’s too early for this. I’m gonna do it, though: did you lock it down with Connor just to get him on my ticket? ’Cause if you did and you really like Jake, you need to break up with him.”
On any other day I would appreciate, no, count on Penny’s annoyingly clear-minded assessment of my actions. Any other day that is not today. Did I throw the boyfriend word at Connor to get him on the ticket? Yes, but it was more complicated than that. Maybe if I had more time and more dates with him, I would have gotten there anyway. I don’t want Penny to feel guilty about my romantic choices—and it’s not like Jake was an option anyway. My choices at the moment were to not date the hot guy who likes me or watch Audra drag Connor out of the cafeteria. I took the prize behind door number one. Simple as that.
“That’s not even close to what’s happening here. Jake is a friend, a secret nerd friend.”
“With big puppy dog eyes that follow you everywhere, and who you sacrifice sleep to talk to, and who you have managed to work into every conversation with me and Matt for a week.”
“Part of that was because of the ice cream thing.”
“Sure. It only took two days of you flipping out about that before you could talk to him. You, who could talk to a mailbox if you felt it needed to hear you out.”
“I don’t need to break up with Connor.”
“And you’re not dating him just because of the campaign?”
I look across the parking lot and see Jake nudge the Dunkin’ door open butt-first to avoid dropping the doughnut box and coffees he’s carrying. I know I just saw him at school yesterday, but seeing him this early on a weekend snaps my brain back to our car ride last week, to picking him up in the rain and almost definitely not kissing him in front of his apartment building. He looks more awake than I do this morning, brighter and happier around his dark eyes than I do even with concealer. He spots my car across the lot and awkwardly shimmies his shoulders since his hands are too full to wave, and he looks so silly I kind of want to throw up? Or laugh? I don’t know, man. My stomach feels weird. I slide down in my seat instinctively. Ninja mode: reactivated.
“Lia, are you there?”
Right, Penny is still on the line. “Still here, sorry. Jake’s here too, though, so I gotta go. I’m definitely not dating Connor because of the campaign.” Jake’sSagavoice from last week echoes in my head.Lying. “Please don’t worry about that.”
“What do you mean he’s here? Is he in your car? Hi, Jake, I’m Penny! We should talk. Vote Darwin.”
“Oh my god, Penny, no. Bad! He’s not in the car.” But he will be soon. “Thanks for wishing me good luck. Love you, bye!”
“I’m going back to sleep.” She hangs up. She can’t do it on her cell, but I know Penny would want me to imagine the dramatic sound of a phone slamming down on its . . . ?phone-holder. No idea what that’s actually called. I imagine the slamming noise anyway in her honor.
I jump when I hear the knock on the passenger side window. Jake must have sneaked around the back of my car, which is impressive considering he’s balancing the coffee cups on top of the doughnut box and holding them like a fancy butler.
“Hi!” I say before realizing my windows are up and he can’t hear a thing I’m saying. I reach over to pop the passenger side open. All of my height, of which there is not much, is in my legs and not my torso, so it’s an incredibly awkward position for me to be in. When Jake hip checks the rest of the door open, I’m staring somewhere at the bottom of the black cross on his Unity jersey. He couldn’t have covered up his team affiliation with a sweatshirt or something? Jake, you’re terrible at this game.
“Good morning?” he asks, looking down at me sprawled across the car seat. It takes me more time than I wish to core strength my way into a sitting position.
“Hey,” I reply when I’m finally upright. Through the door, Jake holds out one of the coffees.
“It’s not matcha,” he says reassuringly. “It’s black, and I have sugar packets in my pocket. Unless they exploded ’cause my jeans are too tight, then I just have sugar in my pocket. These pants are clean, though, so we can just like . . .” He mimes emptying his pocket out carefully into a cup and makes apshhhsound.
“A lint latte. Sounds great.”
“A lint-te.”
“Get in the car.” I take my coffee with a smile and set it in one of the cupholders, then hold my hand out for the doughnut box. “I thought you said you’d get meadoughnut.”
“I did. Well, I got four. Two for you, and two for me. I’ll probably still be hungry, though. These things are delicious, but is it just me, or do they barely exist?”
