Rumor Has It (Rumor Has It #1)(53)

My plan is to ask her to go to my last game, this time as me and not Baller. We head to history, and before I have a chance to ask her, she brings up the text message conversation. She seems at ease about it and is practically force feeding me reasons why she shouldn't go. Her eyes nearly fall out of their sockets, when I tell her she should meet him. My exact words are, "Yeah, that'd be cool. You should meet him."

I didn’t think my plan all the way through.

“You think I should do it?” She stops walking, looking slightly confused. “You think I should meet him?”

“Yeah. What’s the big deal? It’s just some random guy, right?”

“I guess.”

"I mean, you're not into him, are you?"

“Well, no, but …”

“But what?”

After looking down for a moment, she raises her head and meets my eyes. The hurt I saw the day she thought I stood her up is there. Damn it. If she thinks that I don't care that she goes off and meets him, she might think I don't like her that much, or at all. That I'm not even the tiniest bit jealous if she meets some guy, which is entirely false. Because if this were a real conversation, about meeting someone I didn't know, I'd probably flip my shit and want to chain myself to her. The jealousy writhes through me just thinking about it.

“Sorry.” I let go of her hand, wrapping both arms around her, pulling her closer. “I didn’t mean to sound like it isn’t a big deal. I guess I just trust you.”

“What are we?”

Her blunt question makes me raise my eyebrows. “What are we?”

“Look, I’m trying not to be that girl, but I thought you liked me. I mean, I like you, and—”

“You like me?” I cut her off with a smile.

“Yes.” She starts to blush, shaking her head. “I mean, you do like me, right?”

She looks away, but her directness is something I’ve grown fond of. I always appreciated how she seemed to say what she meant when we texted. I guess it’s easier to sound much more confident through digital words than it is through vocal ones.

I put a finger under her chin, bringing her eyes back to meet mine. I wanted to save these words for her when I finally surprised her at the game, but I can’t hold it back. I have to tell her.

“No,” I whisper. “I think I’m in love with you.”

I don't know what kind of reaction I was expecting from her, but standing there frozen, is not something I thought would happen. She blinks, so I know she's not catatonic, but now I feel like I've made a colossal mistake. Maybe it's too soon. No, it's not too soon for me. I know this girl. I'm in love with this girl. Shit, what do I do?

“You what?” she says, but it’s so low I can hardly hear it.

“Sorry.” I keep my eyes locked on hers, afraid if I look away she’s going to disappear. “Was that too soon?”

"Too soon? Too Soon?" Her voice gets louder, and with each second, she's coming back to life. She looks utterly baffled. "Carter, how can … you barely know me."

“No.” I shake my head. “I know you. And you know me.”

"What are you talking about?" More of her confidence is returning, and I'm not sure if she's getting mad or annoyed. "I've known who you are, sure. But I don't know you.”

“Emma, you know better than almost anyone.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.” She pulls her hands up to my chest. It’s still a good sign that she hasn’t backed away from me, right? “Okay, you … you …” I smile as her cheeks get red. “You feel that way about me, which is a whole other topic I think we need to talk about later, but this is so confusing.”

“What?”

“If you feel like that, why are you so okay with me meeting this mystery guy. It doesn’t make any sense!”

No shit. I really need to think these things out better. My brain scrambles, trying to think of something. “Well, um, it’s my game.”

“What?”

“It’s my last game. I’ll be there. I want to see who this guy is myself.” Yeah, this could be viable. “I want you to meet him and that way, I can see who he is, and then he can see how badly he screwed up. I might not sound jealous, but that’s only because I believe in us. I’m telling you, Emma, I really—”

“Don’t say it.”

I smirk. “Like you.”

"Okay, fine. What if this guy shows up and I take one look at him, and I'm awestruck. I'm hit with love at first sight. What then?"

It's almost painful how hard I'm trying not to smile because I'd love it if that happened. If, when I finally reveal myself, she throws herself into my arms and tells me she loves me back. But no, I can't laugh or smile or even grin at her worry. I need to act like I'd be jealous. I try to think of her feeling like that for someone else, and it's easier to get into that mindset.

“Screw that,” I spit out.

“See?”

I don't know how long we've been standing by the building until the bells sounds, letting us know lunch is over, and it's time for our next class.

"Okay, am I jealous? Yes. But maybe I just don't want you doubting yourself. Like, second-guessing, or something."