Page 73 of I Don't Need Your Protection

“What? Oh, yeah! Good job.” I just gape at him again, loving the actual smile on his face and obsessing about the fact that he called me pretty. Which makes me feel pathetic becausewhy would I get so bent out of shape just because a guy thinks I’m pretty?

Because it’s Caleb, a little voice reminds me.

He watches me closely. “Are you okay?”

I snap out of it. “Of course I am! You think you’re so cool getting a strike and then a spare. Watch me smoke your butt this time.”

He chuckles as he once again crosses his arms over his chest. “Again, let’s see you try.”

I don’t know why I’m so nervous as I walk to the front of the lane with my ball. Maybe because I think I’ll impress him if I get a strike? Why would I want to impress him, anyway?

Shoving away my thoughts, I focus on throwing the ball. I once again jump in place as it rolls right down the middle, muttering, “Please don’t veer, please don’t veer.”

I get a strike.

“Woohoo!” I squeal as I raise a fist in the air. “I got a strike!” I dash over to him and throw my arms around him. “See, I told you!”

He’s very stiff for a second, but then his arms come around me. Only for a moment, though. He steps back and says, “Good job. Do you want a snack from the machine?”

“What?”

“I’m getting something from the snack machine. Do you want anything?”

“Uh, sure. Surprise me.”

He nods and walks away.

I hug my upper arms and sit down on one of the chairs,trying not to feel hurt by his rejection. Maybe he’s not a hugger? Or maybe he also forgot that he’s supposed to be my bodyguard and not my friend.

He returns a few minutes later with potato chips for him and a pastry for me. We eat our snacks in silence and then return to the game. I don’t joke around with him anymore because I feel awkward about the hug, and he seems fine with treating our bowling games as though they’re an assignment and not a fun activity. I guess my hug reminded him that he’s not supposed to get close to me.

He wins both games. I hold out my hand for a high-five and he gives it to me, as well as a small smile that causes my heart to flutter.

“Are you good at everything you do?” I tease, wanting us to go back to normal—whatever normal is between us.

“What do you think?”

“I think the answer is yes.”

“You would be correct.”

We take off our shoes and head back to return them.

“Well, I think there’s something you might not be the best at,” I muse. “But that’s only because you don’t have experience in that department.”

He stops walking and glances at me. “What are you talking about?”

“Kissing.”

His brows fly up and his jaw falls a little.

I lift my shoulders. “Is it true?”

He stares at me for a little bit longer before tearing his eyesaway. “We should head back to school.”

I’m not surprised he didn’t answer. I thought maybe he would open up a little. But maybe I messed everything up with that hug, or maybe he doesn’t want to talk about those kinds of things. Which I guess is okay, because no matter how much I want it, Caleb will never be my friend. He’s completely content with just being my bodyguard.

Why can’t I feel the same?