Rumor Has It (Rumor Has It #1)(23)

I can't just leave her. What kind of asshole would that make me? I know Sarah called me that last night, but she was mad that I didn't want to hook up with her. If I just bail on Emma, then I really am an asshole. A certified douchebag.

Facing her direction, every muscle in my body tenses. With every step I take, I get closer, and I have no freaking clue what to say. Hey, Emma. Guess what? I’m BigBaller27! Yeah right, she’ll flip her shit and scream at me. Or run away. Or both. But I have to say something. I can’t just stand her up.

I finally make it to the tree. She puts her phone away and goes back to sketching. I've moved so slowly because I'm nervous, she hasn't heard me. I lean against the tree and look down at her, seeing what she's drawing. It's a sketch of the courtyard, the fountain in the middle. There's a couple drawn off in the distance, and I look back up to see them still sitting there. It's loose but detailed at the same time. It's really good. Thinking of our messages, I remember she loves art class and painting. She said it probably brings her as much joy as I told her playing basketball brings me.

“Uh … hey, what’s up, Emma?” The words come out muffled.

Her head shoots up. At first, there's a hint of excitement and surprise. But it instantly vanishes as her eyes meet mine.

"Carter," she groans out, her eyes returning to her sketchbook. "What are you doing here?"

This is hopeless. She isn’t even giving it the possibility that Big Baller is me. She hates me.

“Oh, I was …” I look around, searching for a reason to give her. “I had to meet up with my coach.”

"Okay, then." She waves me off. "Go talk to your coach."

Trying to think of something else to say, I look back down at her sketchbook. “Whatchya got there? Is that a sketch?”

“Ding, ding,” she says, annoyed. “Looks like your problem-solving skills are as sharp as ever.”

She doesn’t hate me. She loathes me. “It’s good.”

“Whatever.” She shakes her head. “What do you want, Carter?”

I stand there, blinking, unable to think of anything. As the seconds tick by, I know if I tell her who I am it’ll be a complete disaster.

“Oh, what? Nothing.”

“Good, then you can leave.”





Chapter 16





Emma





What I thought was the most anticipated lunch of my entire life, was turning into a lousy dream. Where is he? It's been nearly ten minutes, and I haven't heard from him. I pulled out my sketchbook to try and distract myself when who shows up but Carter Dixon. Looking cocky, his light brown hair waves in the air. I don't know if he meant to sneak up on me or not, but he did. And now he's standing over me.

He's looking at me like he doesn't understand that I told him he could leave. I am waiting for someone after all. Not like I need to tell him that.

“You do understand English, right?”

“Um, what?”

I look back up at him. “I guess not. You said you had to meet your coach, and that you’re doing ‘nothing’ here, so you can leave. You know, put one foot in front of the other and walk away?”

“Oh.” He looks down at his feet with an embarrassed look.

I pull out my phone and frown at the time. Fifteen minutes. Where is he?

“You waiting for a friend?” he asks, watching me put my phone away.

“No. It’s none of your business.”

“I know.” He shrugs, still leaning against the tree.

“Don’t you have friends to go eat your lunch with? Or maybe some more cheerleaders to hook up with?”

I look up and see a stunned expression. It's not like I know what he does, but the rumors are out there. Everyone knows he hooked up with Sarah at homecoming, and ever since then, the rumors have spread further, with multiple names. But he seems hurt. His pained expression makes me look away, down at my sketchbook.

I’m not sure if he’s trying to change the subject, but he motions toward my drawing with his leg. “That’s really good.”

"I didn't ask," I answer, feeling guilty about the malice in my voice.

I can't help it. Carter is one of the most popular seniors in our class, who seemingly gets whatever he wants by flashing that smile. His basketball buddy, Jeremy, is disgusting. And sure, Matt seemed like a nice guy, but for all I know he's just as bad. Being the senior class president, I've heard a couple of girls call him President McHottie. With a nickname like that, I'm sure he has the same size ego as Carter.

But the thing that irks me the most is catching him checking me out from time to time. Not that it isn’t a little flattering to know I catch a guy’s attention, especially someone like Carter, but still. I may not be able to see them if they’re checking out my butt, but at least try to avert your gaze if you’re looking at my chest.

“Are you drawing that for a friend?” he asks.

Letting out an aggravated sigh, I close the sketchbook. “It doesn’t matter what I’m drawing, or if I’m drawing it for someone. But I am waiting for someone, so if you don’t mind please, it’d be great if you just move along.”

The hurt that flashed before is gone, replaced by a coy smile. “He must be special.”