Page 56 of Crazy for this Girl

“What am I, still going through that awkward teenage phase? What am I now?”

Cal throws his head back and forth again. “Can’t say.”

My eyes widen, then form into slits. “Oh my God, is it that bad?”

“Would I have kissed you if it were?”

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.

“So, if I was ugly, you wouldn’t have mentioned it?”

“Nah, I still would’ve mentioned it,” he counters with a smirk. “I just would’ve never used tongue.”

A broken chuckle breaks from my throat because he’s a freaking jerk. I roll my eyes and attempt to pry my hands from his grasp, but he doesn’t let go.

“Order up for Cal!” One of the food truck workers hollers out from behind him. And instead of letting me go, Cal wraps one arm around me and guides us over to the food.

We finish the night with more junk food, a sugar hangover, and an unspoken promise that nothing will tear us apart.

And his hand stays laced with mine.

My fourth hour ends, and I mindlessly walk to the cafeteria to meet Hannah, my stomach growling in irritation that I skipped breakfast this morning. I was running late, having spent way too much time talking to Cal last night and overslept.

I’m now feeling the severe aftermath of that and I’m not going to graduate if I keep this up. I barely stayed awake through my first hour American Wars class, to which I got called out for my fluttering eyes and barely conscious state by Mr. Gordon.

My phone buzzes in my jeans as I stride through the crowded halls, an immediate smile forming on my face at the notification.

CAL: I think I found a college that’ll accept me and my lower IQ.

LAYNEE: You make it so easy to tease you, Cal.

LAYNEE: Which one?

CAL: The University of North Carolina at Pembroke. They’re acceptance rate is 85%.

LAYNEE: I thought you said you got As and Bs except for math. And you’re not taking it this year.

CAL: I do, but it’s also the cheapest. We’re gonna need all the money we can save if you insist on doing this college thing.

LAYNEE: I told you to get a football scholarship.

CAL: I’m not looking to get a replacement of anything on my body by the time I’m in my thirties because I keep getting hit so hard on the field.

“Hey, girl,” Hannah greets, coming to walk at my side. Her three-inch heels click against the tiled floor as she falls into step with me, the smell of too much rose perfume filling my nose. She looks over at my phone like the nosey friend she is and sighs. “Don’t tell me you’re talking to Cal again.”

My brows knit. “He’s my best friend.”

“I’m your best friend,” she insists possessively, linking her arm into mine. “He’s just a boy.”

Yeah, and you’re going to college in New York. Highly doubt we’ll stay in touch with your boy crazy butt.

“Is it my turn to grab lunch?” she asks me when we enter the congested space of havoc and hungry teens."

“Yep. Get my usual.”

“Will do!” She walks ahead, waving at a few people while I go grab our normal lunch table and return back to my text messages.

LAYNEE: I’ll look into that school when I get home.

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