Him: Guess he forgot to tell her they weren’t exclusive.
Me: Of course. Men.
Him: Men…finish that sentence…Men are awesome? Thanks, baby. I accept this award on behalf of all of us.
Me: The award for biggest douchebag? Yeah, you’re the perfect spokesman.
Him: Awwww. I’m hurt. I’m not a DB :（
The notion that I might have hurt his feelings causes guilt to trickle through me.
Me: You’re right. You’re not. I’m sorry. :（
Him: Ha. You’re the biggest softie on the planet. I wasn’t hurt at all.
Me: Good, because the apology was for show.
“Hannah Wells, please report to the principal’s office!”
My head jerks up, and I discover all four of my friends grinning at me again.
Dex, who’d voiced the booming command, addresses the group. “Oh, look, she’s paying attention to us.”
“Sorry,” I say guiltily. “I will officially put my phone away for the duration of this get-together.”
“Hey, you’ll never guess who we saw at Ferro’s last night,” Meg says, referring to the Italian restaurant in town.
“Here we go,” her boyfriend sighs. “Can’t you go five seconds without gossiping, babe?”
“Nope.” She flashes him a jovial smile before turning to me. “Cass and Mary Jane,” she announces. “They were on a date.”
“Did you know they were together?” Stella demands.
“I know he asked her out,” I admit. “But I was hoping she’d be smart enough to say no.”
But I’m not surprised to hear that MJ had done the opposite. And now I’m certainly not looking forward to Monday’s rehearsal, because if Cass and MJ are a “couple” now? I’ll never win an argument about the duet ever again.
“Is that ass-hat still causing trouble at rehearsals?” Dex asks with a frown.
“Yup. It’s like he’s made it his mission in life to piss me off. But we don’t rehearse on the weekends, so I have a reprieve from his bullshit until Monday. How’s your piece going?”
Dex’s expression turns serious. “It’s great, actually. Jon’s been really good about listening to my suggestions. He’s not crazy possessive over the song, you know? But he also has no problem saying no to my ideas, which I also appreciate.”
Well, at least one of us lucked out in the songwriter department. MJ seems perfectly content to let Cass light a match to her song and set it on fire.
“Okay, I totally want to hear more, but I need to grab a coffee first.” I hop out of my seat and pick up my purse. “Does anyone want anything while I’m up there?”
After everyone shakes their heads, I head to the counter and stand at the end of the long line. The coffee house is surprisingly packed for a Sunday night, and I’m startled when several people in line nod or say hello to me. I don’t know a single one, but I smile awkwardly and nod back, then pretend to text on my phone because I don’t want to get drawn into a conversation with a stranger. Maybe I met them at Beau’s party? All the introductions Garrett made are a total blur to me, though. The only people whose names and faces I remember are Beau and Justin and a few of the other football players.
There’s a soft tap on my shoulder, and I turn around to find myself peering up at Justin’s vivid blue eyes.
Speak of the devil.
“Oh, hi,” I squeak out.
“Hey.” He slides his hands into the pockets of his football jacket. “How’s it going?”