Still, the urge to cancel on Justin refuses to go away, but I push it aside as Allie continues to gush about the awesomeness of this hookup.
“Did you sleep with him? Oh, please say yes! And please say that it was good! I know you and Devon didn’t have Brangelina-level chemistry in the sack, but from what I’ve heard, Garrett Graham has some serious moves.”
Yep. He certainly does.
“I didn’t sleep with him.”
She looks disappointed. “Why not?”
“Because…I don’t know, because it didn’t happen. We did other stuff.” My face burns hotter. “And that’s all I’m saying about the subject, okay?”
“Not okay. BFFs are supposed to tell each other everything. I mean, you know everything about my sex life. You know about the time Sean and I tried anal, and you know how big Sean’s dick is—”
“Which is above and beyond TMI,” I interject. “I love you to death, but I never, ever wanted to know about the butt sex, and I definitely could’ve lived without you bringing out a ruler and demonstrating the size of your boyfriend’s penis!”
Allie pouts. “You’re the worst. But don’t worry, I’ll get all the dirty details eventually. I’m very good at prying out details.”
It’s true. She is. But she’s not getting a single one right now.
Rolling my eyes, I stand up. “All right, are we done here? Because I really need to go.”
“Fine, go. And no, we are not done.” She grins at me. “We won’t be done until you bust out that ruler and put an end to the age old question, how big is Garrett Graham’s—”
“Goodbye, perv.”
The first thing I see when I walk into the choir room fifteen minutes later is a cellist.
Question: How do you know when things have spiraled out of your control?
Answer: When you find a cellist in your rehearsal space and don’t even bat an eye.
Ever since MJ endorsed Cass’s choir idea, I’ve given up on arguing with either one of them. At this point, they can do whatever the hell they want—AKA whatever the hell Cass wants—because I simply don’t have the mental energy to play his game.
“You’re late.” Cass tsks with disapproval as I unzip my coat.
“I know.”
He waits for me to apologize.
I don’t apologize.
“Hannah, this is Kim Jae Woo,” MJ says with a hesitant smile. “He’s going to be accompanying you guys during the second verse.”
Uh-huh. Of course he is.
I don’t bother asking when this decision was made. I just nod and mutter, “Sounds good.”
For the next hour, we concentrate only on the middle section of the song. Normally Cass would be stopping us every two seconds to criticize something I’ve done, but today the brunt of his criticism lands on poor Kim Jae Woo. The Korean freshman shoots me a panicked look every time Cass bitches at him, but all I can do is offer a shrug and a sympathetic smile.
It’s sad. I’ve lost all enthusiasm for this song. The only thing that brings me comfort now is the knowledge that if we don’t win the scholarship thanks to Cass’s theatrics, I’ll get a second chance in April during the spring showcase.
At two o’clock, Cass calls an end to rehearsal, and I breathe a sigh of relief as I pull on my coat. When I step into the hall, I’m startled to find Garrett standing there. He’s wearing his Briar jacket and holding two coffee cups, and he greets me with a crooked smile that makes my pulse race.