Don't Kiss the Messenger (Edgelake High School, #1)(37)

“He’s definitely interested,” I said.

“Oh my God! Emmett Brady. The way he’s been acting, I didn’t think I had a chance.” She grabbed my arm. “CeCe, I could kiss you. I always thought the greatest news in the world would be Channing Tatum suddenly becoming single, but this tops it!”

I pulled my arm out of her sweaty hand. Only Bryn would get touchy-feely during a run.

“What do you mean you didn’t think he was interested?” I asked her. “Haven’t you noticed the collective sigh you generate when you walk into a room could change the course of the jet stream?”

She laughed. “Yeah, but Emmett’s more complicated.”

We actually agreed on something.

“But you don’t have an issue hooking up with him,” I pointed out. Bryn shook her head, innocently.

“That’s just it—hardly anything’s happened! When I see him, he just puts his arm around me or rubs my back. It seems like all he wants to do is talk. It’s like he needs conversation as foreplay. He won’t go any further. Honestly, I’m in virgin territory here.”

This news made me jubilant. I tamped it down so I could reply evenly.

“That’s got to be novel for you. It’s the first time the sight of you with your top off wasn’t foreplay enough?”

“Don’t be bitchy,” she said.

I wiped a rivulet of sweat from my eye. This was not a conversational pace. I focused on my stride and my breath. It was a point of pride that I finish the run first. As captain of the volleyball team, I usually restrained my competitiveness. Team came first, and we all needed to work together. But on these runs I could give it free rein. Before Bryn transferred this year I was easily the fastest runner on the team. I could outrun her, but all the talking wasn’t helping my oxygen uptake. So I kept my thoughts to myself while we finished mile two.

Bryn’s eyes suddenly widened in realization. She slapped her hand over her mouth. “Maybe I’m in love with him! Is this what love feels like?”

I wouldn’t know. “What are you feeling?” I asked.

“My stomach starts to churn when he’s around. My throat gets so tight I can barely breathe and my tongue feels like it starting to swell. Oh, and my skin feels hot.”

“Hot, as in tingly?” I asked.

“No, hot as in, I’m about to break out in a rash.”

“Those symptoms sound closer to an anxiety attack,” I told her.

She ignored me, her eyes swimming. “What if he’s the one, CeCe? My forever?”

“Are you reading too much Judy Blume lately?” I asked.

“Okay, I’m pretty sure that’s an author, but I really do not get your writer references.”

I picked up my pace, breathing heavier.

“He’s planning on asking you out next week,” I said.

I prepared myself for Bryn to attempt a running hug at this news. I glanced over, ready to meet her radiating smile, but Bryn looked concerned. More than concerned—afraid.

“A date? With Emmett? What are we going to do?”

I shrugged. Dating was not my forte. “You’re on your own from here,” I said.

She nodded. “I want to do something different. I want to impress Emmett. Do you think he likes bowling?”

I shook my head.

“Mini golf?”

“I thought you wanted to do something different? If you want to impress Emmett, it has to be original. Unusual. Adventurous. With an element of danger.”

Bryn held her stomach as if a cramp had suddenly seized her. “Oh my God,” she mumbled. “He wants to take me out. On a date.” She slowed down and panted, her face panicked.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Shouldn’t this be exciting news?”

She shook her head. “Now I’ll really have to talk to him.” She looked sick to her stomach. I rubbed my hand on her back to help calm her down.

“Wasn’t that the point of all this?”

“I don’t know. I thought so. I mean, I thought he just wanted to hook up.”

“I don’t think Emmett’s the just-hooking-up type. I think he’s the relationship type.”

“God,” Bryn muttered at the clouds. We picked up our pace as she processed her new dilemma.

“If it’s conversation that he wants then give it to him.”

Bryn made a face. Then, her eyes focused one mine. “I know!” she said. “We can double date!”

“I don’t date,” I said.

“You could ask that Tuck guy, I’ve seen you talk to him.”

I shook my head.

“Are you afraid he’ll say no?” Bryn asked. “I can ask him for you.”

“No!” I said.

“Don’t you like a little romance in your life?” Bryn pressed.

“That’s the problem,” I said. “I do like romance. Tucker’s idea of courtship is shot gunning a beer behind the boathouse.” I knew this for a fact. Tucker had an older brother that rowed at the University and he and Prentice snuck out to college parties whenever they had the chance. Every October they invited us to an annual college crew party and each year the volleyball team had convinced me to go.

“Then what is your type?” Bryn asked. “I’ll set you up!”