Page 24 of This Time It's Real
“Cool.”
“Cool,” he echoes, and I swear he’s just trying to get under my skin now.
“Wonderful,”I snap, crossing my arms. “Now, on to more important things . . . So if we are walking to class together—”
“Can I just say something?” he says.
That same feeling of vague annoyance from yesterday spikes inside me. Seriously. Caz Song was a lot more charming when he was only a pretty image on my TV screen. “Aren’t you already saying something?”
“Can I say something else, then?” Without waiting for me to agree, Caz spreads his palms out and says, “Look, I appreciate what you’re trying to do here with this whole, uh, consistency thing. But maybe . . . justmaybe . . .you don’t have to coordinate every single detail? We could just get into our roles and let the story develop naturally. It’ll be more believable.”
Develop naturally. As if anything about our current arrangement is or could be natural.
“That sounds like a horrible idea,” I tell him. My palms actually feel a little clammy at the thought. Planning things out in detail means there are boundaries, and boundaries mean I’ll at least have control over something.
“Why?” he asks, not backing down. “What are you so afraid of?”
I feel myself bristle. “I’m not—afraid.” Then, hearing the blatant lie in my own voice, I switch to the offensive. “What doyouhave against following a nice, well-thought-out schedule?”
He breathes out through his teeth. “I don’t. It’s just—I’m already following alotof nice, well-thought-out schedules, you know? That’s kind of the nature of my job.”
This is enough to make me falter, if only briefly.
“Humor me,” Caz insists. “Just for a day. If it doesn’t work, we can try it your way.”
No thanks.The words are already poised on the tip of my tongue when the first bell rings. It’s always loudest in the morning, an awful, drawn-out screech that can be heard at least three streets away. I think the point is to encourage students to get to class faster, but I know for a fact that some people have turned up to school ten minutes late just to avoid listening to the bell scream.
I wince as the sound echoes down the hall. There’s no time to negotiate, so I shoot Caz my firmest no-bullshit look and say:
“Fine. But only for today.”
• • •
I regret my words almost immediately.
We’re heading out of the old senior building at the far end of campus to first-period math, into the sticky summer heat, and surprisingly, nothing too embarrassing has happened yet. Around us, all our classmates are keeping their distance, watching us only when they think we’re looking away. Above us, the sky is so blue it looks fake.
Caz keeps quiet as we walk side by side, which I appreciate. The only thing worse than awkward silence is the kind of meaningless chatter designed solely to fill said silence.
Then, without a word of warning, Caz reaches for my hand, his long, slender fingers brushing against my own, and I honestly can’t explain what happens next.
It’s like my body goes into defense mode. Without thinking—without evenregisteringwhat I’m doing—I jerk away and slap his wrist.
There’s an awful, horrifyingly loud clapping sound. The kind you usually hear in movies during a dramatic showdown.
And then a speechless pause. Followed by—
“What thehell,” Caz says, looking more confused than angry. He draws his hand back down to his side, but not before I see the irritated red of his skin. “Why did you just hit me?”
“S-sorry,” I babble. I can feel my whole face burning, my fingers tingling from where he touched them, however briefly. “I—I don’t know. I was just surprised.”
“That yourboyfriendwould hold your hand?” he asks, confused.
“Yes. No. I mean . . .” I sigh. Avert my gaze, cursing myself for landing us in this ridiculous situation, and the even more ridiculous, excruciating confession I now have to make. I don’t think anyone can hear us, but I keep my voice low in case. “I haven’t exactly, um, held hands with a guy before.”
“Wait.” Caz’s footsteps slow. “Never?”
This is already getting way too personal for my liking, but since I still feel bad for basically attacking him, I nod once and say, “Well, yeah. I’ve never dated anyone before, so . . .”
