Page 26 of Choosing Her

“So you and Bourbon like to match?” I asked slowly, the smile on my face growing again. She kicked me a second time, even harder this time, and I continued laughing.

“I promise I’m not making fun of you,” I said between laughs. “I love it.”

“No, you don’t.” She scowled at me again. “And you’re being a jerk.”

I sobered up a little at those words. I wasn’t trying to be mean—I just genuinely struggled to imagine her wanting to braid her horse’s mane.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I was just surprised. Do you want to go do it now?”

If looks could kill, Saylor’s would now. I quickly backed down, pulling my textbook toward me.

“Or we could study,” I said quietly. “What page?”

She sighed and pulled the textbook from me, thumbing through it quickly.

I watched her carefully as she did, feeling bad about how annoyed she looked.

I thought it was cute that she liked to braid Bourbon’s mane, though I was sure if I tried to tell her that, I would end up with a pencil in the eye.

“I could help, you know,” I said.

“Help with what?” Saylor asked, sounding distracted.

“With the braiding,” I said. She lifted her head slowly and narrowed her eyes at me. I held my hands up in surrender. “Just an offer. You don’t grow up with four younger sisters and not learn how to braid hair.”

The corner of her mouth twitched up like she was fighting back a smile. I wondered if she was thinking of the same thing I was—that night in the laundry room, when she hadn’t believed me when I told her about all my sisters.

“Fine,” Saylor said.

I raised my eyebrows. “Fine?”

“I guess you can help me.”

“Well, don’t act like I’m doing you a favor or anything.”

The smile dropped off her face again. “You’re not doing me a favor. You can join me because you feel like it or you can not show up at all. Doesn’t matter to me. But it’s not a favor.”

Of course I wanted to show up. Of course I wanted to spend time with her and Bourbon.

I genuinely couldn’t think of a way I wanted to spend my evening more than braiding her horse’s hair.

But I also didn’t want to sound too eager, so I decided to change course by nodding at the iced coffee in her hand and asking what she thought—as if I didn’t already know.

Her face cleared. “Oh, it’s good, thanks. What was the flavor today?"

“It’s a new one. Why, what’d you think?”

I already knew she loved it, which only made it all the more hilarious that she shrugged like it was nothing and said, “I guess it was fine. Now let’s get to studying.”

I hummed to myself as I took back the textbook, which she’d turn to the right page. But as I grabbed it, it flopped open further and a piece of paper that had been stuck in it fluttered out.

Crap.

She caught it before I did, and just as I expected, she began to read it before handing it back to me. Her eyes narrowed.

“What is this?” She asked.

“Uh…”

She turned the paper toward me, the top held in a tight grip, as if I didn’t already know exactly what it said.

ICED COFFEE FLAVOURS

Hazelnut - yes

Caramel - yes (favorite?)

Vanilla - no

I lunged for the paper, as if that could undo what she already saw, but she twisted away, keeping it annoyingly out of each. I practically climbed on top of her as I reached for the paper but she held it out at arm’s length and kept moving, so I couldn’t get a grip on it.

“It’s not what you think!” I said in my panic.

“So you haven’t been tracking what iced coffee flavours I like?”

I sighed and dropped my arm, falling back off her chair.

There was no point in stealing the paper back if she already knew what it meant.

Somehow, I’d been hoping that she wouldn’t put it together.

Because this had to be one step below stalker behaviour, right?

Tracking what she liked to drink was probably beyond creepy and now that she knew I was, she was going to be so freaked out that she would refuse to tutor me anymore.

Actually, she’d probably refuse to be in the same room as me anymore.

And our iced coffee tradition would definitely be ruined.

"Well, I..." I cleared my throat. "Kind of."

She untwisted herself so she could sit normally in her chair and ran her gaze over the paper again. "What do you mean, kind of? I would say you absolutely are."

"Okay, so I am." I exhaled. "So what?"

Maybe if I acted like it was no big deal, she would decide it was no big deal, either. Probably a long shot, but worth a try, right?

She gaped at me. “So, what? Crossy, this is…”

She shook her head and looked at it again.

I chewed on my lip, wishing I could snatch the paper back out of her hand but knowing the damage was already done.

My heart clenched as I thought about giving up what we had going right now.

Things had been going so well for us and here, I’d gone and ruined it by being a creep.

She already hated me for going out with Naomi, but now, she would definitely be warning every girl in a hundred mile radius to stay very far away.

Goodbye to Mako’s Keep dating until you break the Saylor Curse idea. I’d just thrown any chance I had away.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. Saylor let out a long sigh and her expression softened. At least she didn’t look livid. It didn’t seem like she was planning the best way to kill me and hide my body without anyone knowing.

“You were tracking what flavours I like,” she repeated. Her voice wasn’t hard anymore. It was soft and almost… awed.

She folded the paper in half and handed it back to me, her fingers brushing mine momentarily.

Just like every time she touched me, I felt it—that little spark that I’d felt for the first time when I handed her a coke on New Year’s Eve and that had continued ever since.

And instead of pulling away, she let her hand drop onto my knee, like she wasn’t totally ready to let go either.

Then, so softly I almost didn’t hear it, she whispered, “You’re a good friend, Caleb Cross.”

I blinked at her, sure that I hadn’t heard her correctly.

Even though I’d guessed at the beginning of the year that the way to break the Saylor Curse was to become friends with her, I’d never actually entertained the possibility that Rebecca Saylor would ever find it in her heart to say that we were anything beyond begrudging acquaintances. And yet…

I think I might love you, Rebecca Saylor.