Page 10

M

om fussed over me all week, and though Nick and I usually avoided our bedroom as much as possible to pretend we didn’t share a living space, I found myself retreating there often when she got too overbearing.

I loved that she cared, but I needed to be alone with my thoughts to process what had happened in such a short time. It was a sweet sort of torture, replaying every little interaction in my mind like a movie—both the good and the cringe.

Soft pop music played from my phone as I did just that when my brother entered the room.

He rolled his eyes when he caught sight of me.

“What?” I demanded, scrolling through my contacts for the billionth time.

“You’re wearing his sweatshirt again,” Nick replied with an impressive amount of disgust and judgment for a kid munching on an entire bag of Cheetos. “Are you two dating?”

Normally, I’d be pickier about revealing my secrets, but desperate times and all that jazz. I sat up, clutching my phone to my chest. “No. How could we be? I haven’t talked to any of them.”

Nick’s head tilted as he dropped down at our shared desk. “Really?” He popped a chip into his mouth as he considered my words. “That Ben guy said you had his number.”

“Right? But look.” I turned my phone to face him, and he obligingly rolled across the floor to glance through my contacts. “Not under Bs, and he isn’t under Ps either. Nor any other letter in the alphabet.”

Nick scrolled through. “Short list.”

I huffed, snatching it back. “You know what? Forget I said anything.”

Nick snickered before shrugging his shoulders. “What do you want me to say? He sounded pretty sure you had it.”

Collapsing on my collection of decorative flower pillows, I frowned at my screen, wishing to solve this unsolvable puzzle. My foot stopped bouncing atop my knee as my eyes traveled to the West Winsor Football logo on the hoodie.

Ben’s hoodie.

The one he insisted I keep, even with Dad’s explanation that we had blankets in the truck.

My hand shot into the pocket, and my heart leaped with excitement when I brushed against a piece of paper.

I pulled it out and unfolded it, noting that it was a bubble gum wrapper.

In a messy boyish scrawl, it read, “Here’s my number, princess. Text me.”

My fingers couldn’t input the number fast enough, but when I’d actually input Ben Pierce’s digits in little ole me’s phone, I hesitated, my fingers hovering over the keyboard.

Don’t overthink it, Willa.

Most people our age just talked on social media, so the fact that he’d bypassed that and shared his actual phone number felt more serious. Phone numbers were all but a permanent identity these days, akin to social security numbers, and he’d given me , Willa Walker, his. That knowledge supplied the confidence boost I needed to not overthink things.

Typing out a quick message, I hit send before I changed my mind and tossed the phone away on the far reaches of my bed like it’d become a live wire, unable to handle Ben’s potential response in my delicate state—especially if, like I suspected would be the case—he didn’t reply right away.

“Why are you so… the way you are?” Nick asked. He gave me one long stare, even after I waved him off, before returning to his comic book.

The alert on my phone dinged, making both of us glance at it.

“Is someone… messaging you?”

I frowned at his frankly insulting astonishment. “No need to sound so shocked,” I groused as my trembling fingers closed around the device.

Nick scoffed. “Please. Only Mom and Dad text you, and since we’re home and Mom’s currently sleeping off a double…” He left his sentence hanging, an open-ended implication, waiting for me to fill in the blanks of the world’s most annoying Mad Libs.

There was nothing quite so effective as younger brothers to keep any budding ego in check. Heaven forbid I gained anything resembling self-esteem.

Ignoring him, I swiped the conversation open, my cheeks heating at my initial message of, “Sorry, just found your number,” and moved onto his response.

UNKNOWN: No worries, princess. For you, I’d wait.

Time slowed to a standstill before my fingers broke into a flurry of movement, clacking against the screen in hyper speed.

ME: I’m curious. What would you have done if my dad insisted on returning your sweatshirt?

“Wait—” Nick shattered my concentration and the illusion of my private conversation. “Someone is texting you! Did you finally put on your big girl pants and stalk Ben online?”

I scoffed, officially saving Ben’s contact information with more relish than was strictly healthy. “No.”

That was all the answer I spared him. He could take it how he wanted, because Ben’s next message had just swooped in, followed by several more.

Oh.

He was one of those texters.

BEN: Not sure.

BEN: Probably would have given it to your brother.

BEN: Hmm.

BEN: Actually, for future reference, how trustworthy is your brother?

I grinned, ecstatic that we were typing and not talking. My witty comebacks tended to disappear around boys my age, and there was a lot of ground to cover after the shaky ending we’d had.

ME: My little brother? I think little brothers and trustworthy might be an oxymoron.

BEN: Oxymoron? My, my, breaking out the fancy words today. That’s a step up from the dozen or so words you said the entire weekend.

BEN: And I can’t say.

BEN: I just have a little sister, and she can do no wrong in my eyes.

ME: You’ll have to take my word for it then.

ME: Don’t get me wrong. Nick and I get along better than most siblings, but it’s definitely an “I’m the only one allowed to annoy my sister” type of deal.

ME: Who knows what he would have done if left up to the task?

BEN: Fair enough :)

BEN: So you just found the wrapper, huh?

My cheeks heated at his question.

ME: Oh, yeah, your hoodie kind of got tossed over a chair, and that’s where it’s been since.

Yikes! The lies spewing from my mouth… I ought to be ashamed.

BEN: Then I guess I should be happy with your timing.

My heart thudded as the rest of me froze.

BEN: You know?

BEN: Since it’s Friday.

Each whoosh sound struck my ability to think like bullets. What was so special about Friday?

BEN: Come on, princess.

BEN: I know you’re there.

BEN: I can see the read receipts.

Oh, right. He’d enjoy the conversation better if I chipped in more than a silent wall. As I focused on how to respond, the phone was snatched out of my lax grip.

“Hey!” I yelped, following its path as if tethered to it, but I reached the end of my momentum, and Nick was too fast in the rolling chair, already putting a healthy distance between us as his eyes devoured Ben’s and my conversation.

“So you are texting Ben! Went with the stalking, huh?” He paused at some point, gagging. “Oh, he hid it in his sweatshirt. That’s so lame.”

Meanwhile, I’d scrambled to my feet and homed in on him. “Give that back!”

He fended me off with one arm while holding the phone aloft with the other, and somehow, despite my very determined efforts, he managed to keep me away.

Shock colored me confused for about five seconds before realization set in.

Oh, that annoying, lousy little—

Annoyance mixed with my anger. How dare Nick hold back in our squabbles? I’d been worrying about this day coming right before the camping trip, and the face slap reality of discovering it’d already come to pass left me indignant.

Amidst our fight, somehow, we both heard the soft whoosh of an incoming text and froze.

BEN: Oookaaay. Either you fell asleep with your screen on, or you want me to work for it.

Another swish.

BEN: I’m honestly not sure which I prefer.

Oh, he was rambling now as a volley of texts pinged off, one right after the other.

BEN: So.

BEN: I’m just going to go for it.

BEN: You’re a really interesting person, and I liked hanging out with you.

BEN: And it’s Friday.

BEN: So I was wondering if you had any plans, and if not, if you’d like to catch a movie with me tonight?

Nick turned to me, and his wide-eyed expression had to rival mine. “He just asked you out.”

Snapping free of my stupor, I swiped the phone from his hands, retreating to the safety of my bunk. To maximize our privacy, our parents bought us bunk beds, and I drew the velvet purple curtains shut. Nick wasn’t witnessing any more of this momentous occasion than he’d already got.

To check we weren’t both hallucinating, I reread the texts, but sure enough...

Ben Pierce, the star lineman on the football team, had asked me out.

No ifs, ands, or buts about it.

While my brain attempted to digest this, another bevy of messages poured in.

BEN: I’m not sure what’s playing, but we could drive out of town for more options.

BEN: Maybe a movie isn’t the best place to get to know each other better, but you’re kind of shy.

BEN: Thought this might take some of the pressure off.

BEN: You know, now that I think about it, maybe your timing wasn’t actually that great.

BEN: You probably already have other plans for the weekend by now.

BEN: Your dad said you guys are at the dunes pretty much every weekend.

Without thinking, my fingers typed out a quick reply.

ME: No.

BEN: No?

I huffed, having to delete my text to send something else.

ME: Hold on, I’m typing.

BEN: Sure.

BEN: Okay.

BEN: But that’s kind of a scary place to leave a guy hanging.

I’d already restarted typing to reassure him once, so he’d just have to wait.

BEN: You know, usually the girls are the talkative ones.

Unable to ignore that one, I got smart and copied what I’d written so far to the clipboard and sent a quick response.

ME: Maybe that’s what makes me interesting.

BEN: You’re killing me here.

BEN: And I’m being silly.

BEN: Just type what you’re going to type.

He really couldn’t help himself, could he? I repeated cutting my reply, which had all but grown into a personal narrative by this point.

ME: I would, but someone won’t let me focus.

BEN: LOL

BEN: That’s the nicest way I’ve ever been told to shut up.

BEN: Never let it be said I can’t take a hint.

Could have fooled me, I thought, but I didn’t bother to send it.

BEN: Okay, I’ll be quite now.

BEN: *quiet

BEN: I can see the typing sign.

BEN: Are you writing a book?

One more text of his snuck in just as I proofread what I wrote and hit send.

BEN: Jeez

ME: Yeah, we are there almost every weekend since it’s my dad’s job, but now that I’m older, I don’t always have to tag along if there’s something else going on. I’ll have to check with them first. My mom’s a nurse and has been hovering all week, but other than that, I would like to go to the movies with you. You’re right about it taking some of the pressure off, so thank you, and I’m not picky about movies. Well, gratuitous gore is definitely not my thing, but I just turned seventeen, so that’s not really an issue anyway. I can’t get into R-rated movies, but you probably knew that since your friend Kolton made a big deal about my birthday and age.

ME: There.

BEN: Okay, I was jk about the book.

BEN: Seriously. It’s going to take me all day to read the novel you sent.

ME: I’ll wait.

I calmly placed the phone face down on the mattress and held my hand over my racing heart for a few seconds before I sprung up, arrowing through the curtains and skidding into the hallway.

Mom wouldn’t finish work for another two hours, so Ben had been right. The timing was perfect.

I took the steps two at a time.

“Jeez,” Dad called out, saving me the trouble of shouting his name to figure out if he was in the kitchen or garage. “Who’s stomping down the stairs? It sounds like a herd of elephants!”

I used the banister to hook a left into the kitchen without slowing my momentum, so the alarmed look my dad gave me was mostly well-deserved—insulting, but fair. Between my gasping breaths, messy hair, and round eyes, I was sure I resembled something that belonged in the crazy asylum. “C-Can I go—” Breath. “To the movies with—” Another breath. “Ben tonight?”

His brows inched toward his hairline. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Movies. Ben. Tonight,” I repeated, feeling my face heat as the awkwardness of the situation hit. If I hadn’t been so eager to return to my conversation with Ben, I might have thought this through a little more. Still, only asking Dad was eons better than having Mom here as well. She had some weird hang-ups sometimes from her job as a trauma nurse.

He placed the spatula down before toweling off his hands. “Yeah, I caught that part. I’m assuming this is the Ben whose hoodie you won’t take off?”

“Da-ad!”

“Who’s driving?”

I paused. “Probably him. I don’t get to trade in my learner’s permit until next week.”

Oh, Dad didn’t like that.

“What time does the movie end?”

This conversation was burning and crashing. “Ah, I’m not sure.”

His head tilted. “Do you know what movie you’re seeing?”

“Negative.” A small, amused smile quirked one side of his lips, making me huff. “Sorry, Dad! It just happened, and I ran down here to ask. We’ll look it up. I just wanted to see if you’d say yes.”

Dad let out some weird chortle but nodded. “Sure, Willy, go ahead. I’ll smooth things over with your mo—”

“Thanks!” I called over my shoulder, already halfway up the stairs.

“Hey, nothing’s set in stone until I get the details!”

I shut the door on his shout. The loud slap rang through the room. Nick jumped, the gaming headphones knocking askew as he faced me.

He might have shot off something snarky, but like Dad’s caveat, it also went ignored amid my tunnel vision.

I dove through the curtains and scooped up the phone, one of my brows arching as the screen lit with a dozen notifications. If I was a betting girl, I’d have sure odds, and yep, they were all from Ben.

BEN: Riiight.

BEN: Oh, you weren’t kidding.

BEN: I guess you’re waiting.

BEN: Okay, so I finished reading your novel.

BEN: Can’t believe you were quiet the ENTIRE time.

BEN: Very compelling story, btw. Five stars!

BEN: Hello?

BEN: Wiiiiilllllllaaaaa?

BEN: Come on, princess. You’re hard on my ego.

BEN: Well, you already said yes, so no take backs!

BEN: Alright, I looked up the movie.

BEN: It’s a nice parent approved, PG-13 comedy. Starts at 7.

BEN: What’s your address? I’ll pick you up.

I shook my head as a smile split my face while I shot a quick text to Dad with the details and got a thumbs-up emoji followed by a, “B home by ten.”

I began fleshing out my response to Ben. Was it considered a form of flirting if I laid into the embellishments and elaboration to stretch the word count?

ME: Sorry I took so long. I wanted to run it by my dad while my mom was still at work. Like I said, she’s pretty overprotective of us when it comes to getting injured. After dragging me into the emergency room on Sunday while she was working, she’s been in top form this week. She even called in Monday and Tuesday just to stay home with me. I figured I had better odds of getting approval before she got home.

BEN: Playing the parents?

BEN: Willa, you rebel.

BEN: So, he said yes?

I grinned.

ME: He said yes.