Page 50 of This Time It's Real
But while I hesitate, Daiki and the others—who have blatantly and unashamedly been listening to our every word—make their way over.
“We can all share,” Savannah says, voice bright, and Nadia and Stephanie nod in fast agreement.
Then, to my surprise, Nadia hooks her slender arm around mine as if we’ve known each other all our lives. “Come on. We’re alldyingto get to know you better. I mean, Caz has been so secretive about you.”
“Oh. Thanks,” I say, then realize how unintelligent that must sound. Flustered, I continue. “But, um, you already have a cake and I’d hate to intrude . . .”
“One can never have too much cake,” Stephanie says, adopting the deep, dramatic voice of some ancient sage.
“Wise words,” Nadia agrees. “Plus, they’re different flavors. Like, ours is a brown-sugar bubble tea cake, and yours is . . .”
There’s a humiliating moment of silence as Caz’s friends all lean in and attempt to classify the lumpy pastry in my hands.
“Yours is . . . of the homemade variety,” Savannah puts in politely.
Caz releases an audible puff of laughter. I turn to glare at him, but when our gazes meet, he only laughs harder.
Then Daiki steps between us. “Okay, lovebirds, stop flirting for a second—”
“We weren’t flirting,” I protest, wondering if one of us has a fundamental misconception of the term. “I don’t— We didn’t evensay anything.”
“Yeah, but we can see it in your eyes,” he says. “And that shit’s even more obvious than direct pickup lines.”
As if my face isn’t already on fire, the others all nod along.
“On second thought, are we sure we want to spend a whole lunchtime around these two?” Savannah jokes.
“Well, it’s Caz’s birthday,” Nadia reasons, drawing my arm closer to hers, our elbows bumping. “He’s going to want his girlfriend there.” They all turn to me, expectant, Caz included, and though the idea of having to act like we’re dating before his group of intimidatingly gorgeous, charismatic friends—and leaving a good impression, no less—makes me want to break out into stress hives and flee the country under a new identity, Nadia’s right: Itishis birthday.
And maybe some small, foolish part of me does want to spend more time with him.
Before I can chicken out, I force myself to nod. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”
But as we approach Caz’s regular corner table in the cafeteria, I realize there’s a small problem: We’re a chair short. Just when I’m scanning the area for a seat, Caz nudges his normal chair over in my direction and makes an elaborate gesture for me to sit.
I shake my head quickly, aware that some students have already started staring.
“Um, you don’t have to do that. I can find something . . .”
“No, I’ve got it,” he reassures me. No sooner than the words have left his lips, a blushing girl from year eight or nine hurries forward and shyly pushes a spare chair toward him.
“H-happy birthday,” she squeaks out.
He smiles at her politely. “Thank you.”
It’s a simple response, but the girl’s face turns bright red, and she stumbles twice on her short trip back to her giggling, whispering friends.
“You know,” Daiki remarks from the other end of the table, where Savannah is already snuggled up against his broad chest, “one day someone’s going to crash their car just because you glanced in their direction, and you’re going to have to take full legal responsibility.”
Caz just rolls his eyes and sits down, tipping his chair back a few degrees.
I feel likeIshould say something—something cool and confident and witty—but my mind’s blank. And Savannah’s current proximity to Daiki isn’t helping. Is this how all couples are meant to behave when eating together? Am I expected to curl up like that against Caz too? Or would it look too deliberate, like I’m copying them?
Then I’m imagining how it’d feel to be that close to him, to rest my cheek over the place his heart beats, let him wrap one strong arm around me—
“Hey.” Caz nudges my knee under the table, and I jump, my face flushing.
“Hmm?”
