Page 21 of Woke Up Like This
“First, I like dogs. Not cats. And why is success measured by my relationship status? You didn’t even ask about where I’d be in my thriving career,” I point out. “If you were asking Ollie the same question, you’d never ask whether he lived with cats.”
“Because I already know Ollie will be married to Kassie,” Renner retorts.
I tilt my head, a little surprised by that admission. “True. Ollie is future-husband material.”
“Future-husband material? And I’m not?”
I keep my lips pressed into a thin line. “You sound bothered. I’m sensing jealousy.”
He makes a perplexed face. “Of who? Ollie?”
“Why not? You really liked Kassie. That summer before we went into high school.”
He shrugs. “If that’s how you wanna describe it. I was also fourteen years old. My mom still picked out my outfits for school. Besides, Kassielikes Ollie way more than she ever liked me. I’ve always been happy for him.” His response catches me off guard. I’ve always assumed he felt some type of way about his best friend stealing the girl he liked, as anyone would.
I’m about to call him on it, but his face hardens again and it feels like the moment has passed. We work in a heavy silence for another few minutes.
“Can you pass me the blue streamers?” I ask from the top of the ladder.
He fetches the roll at a glacial pace.
“Make it snappy,” I say, holding myself steady on the ladder. My blistered feet are aching in my sneakers.
He rests an arm on one of the middle steps, causing it to wobble. Probably on purpose. Is Renner trying tokill mewhen I’m at my most vulnerable? “I don’t understand what makes Ollie future-husband material and not me,” he reflects, still miffed. “Not that I want that with Kassie. Not at all. She and Ollie are great together. I just don’t understand why others don’t see me that way ...”
“I can’t understand what makes you think you’re deserving of the title,” I scoff. “Just look at it objectively. Ollie has been with Kassie for four whole years. Meanwhile, you’d already been through at least half of the female population of MHS by tenth grade.” I’m not exaggerating. Nearly every girl I know has dated Renner at some point in the past four years.
“That doesn’t mean I’m not going to settle down eventually. Besides, I have a lot to offer.”
“Like what?”
“For starters, I can drive, unlike some. And I make damned good Kraft Mac and Cheese,” he adds.
“Doubtful.”
He shakes his head, and I catch a mischievous tug at the right side of his lip. “Even the mac and cheese doesn’t intrigue you?”
A laugh comes from deep in my stomach, echoing around the gym. I clutch the sides of the ladder so I don’t topple off. “Hard pass.”
“Okay, but picture this. A zombie apocalypse. Everyone dies. Except us.”
“Jesus take me.” I close my eyes for a split second and press my hand to my chest at the thought. “Besides, women don’t require a husband to complete them in life,” I point out, yet again. “If anything, you’d weigh me down in an apocalypse. I wouldn’t have time to babysit.”
He trucks on like I haven’t spoken. “We’re the only two humans left on Earth. You’d rather carry on alone and get mauled by zombies than team up with me for survival?” His eyes pierce mine, awaiting a response.
Would I really rather go it alone? It’s hard to say. But my brain is a little too frazzled for ridiculous hypotheticals. So I settle for a simple, “Yes. Now hand me the streamers, please.”
He holds out the roll, expression stony, not bothering to stretch his arm any farther than necessary. Given I just went off about being a fiercely independent woman, I’m not about to ask him to bring it closer.
I take my left foot off the ladder to tilt my body weight just so. In that precise moment, one of the cardboard seaweeds falls off the wall across the gym.
It all happens so fast. Renner is startled and turns his body toward the noise, inadvertently moving the streamer roll farther out of my reach. I lean a smidge too far to make up the distance. Before I know it, everything is sideways.
The last thing I see is Renner’s horrified expression as I crash directly into his face.
NINE
Ahigh-pitched, siren-like wail cuts the air, snapping me to consciousness.
