Page 115 of Betting on the Brainiac

“Inside.” I point to the house and turn.

We walk through the kitchen and down the short hall to the living room, where Mrs. Lipsky looks up from kitten duty. She stays quiet and just watches as we round the corner to the stairs.

What does she see on my face? I don’t even know what I’m feeling right this second. Confusion and clarity. Relief and anger. Embarrassment as I try to remember how many times I mentioned that kiss in front of the guy who gave it to me, going on about how it wasthekiss, talking about how I’d only date if I found him. Or he found me.

And why hadn’t he?

I walk into my room and spot Tabitha on my windowsill, surveying the courtyard and pool.

“Shut it,” I tell Oliver.

“I haven’t even—”

“The door.”

He shuts the door.

I wrap my arms around myself, needing a hug. “You’ve had so many opportunities to tell me.”

“I should have told you that night.”

“Why didn’t you?” I’m not mad. I’m not . . . I don’t know how I feel. Overwhelmed, more than anything. Trying to put so many things together, but it’s like trying to catch bubbles, each fact I grab onto popping before I can study it, make sense of it.

He sighs. “Shock? I don’t know about you, but for me, that blew my mind. All of my circuits. My common sense? My system overloaded.”

“But you did know about me. About what I thought. You’ve heard me say it more times than I want to remember because it will get humiliating.”

“It shouldn’t,” he says. “Or at least, I wish it wouldn’t. Anytime I heard you say anything like that, you were technically talking about me, but not really. I know that.”

I draw my head back, even more confused. “What does that mean?”

“That night, was there any part of you that thought the guy in the mask was me?”

I shake my head. “Not really.” His eyebrow goes up. “Not at all.”

“Would you have kissed me if you knew it was me?”

“No.”

“And that’s what I feel the worst about. It wasn’t intentional, but I didn’t give you a choice. I’m so sorry, Madison.” He sits on the end of my bed, slumped.

“If I’m going to go around kissing strange dudes in masks, I probably get what I deserve for not asking questions first.”

His eyes meet mine, trying to read me.

“Why didn’t you tell me later? The next day, even?”

“I meant to. That’s why I came over. But Ruby was borderline teary at first, and . . .”

“We were all hands on deck.” All of us rushing around trying to keep Ruby from sinking into her funk. “I was distracted. But you still could have told me.”

“I know. But I took the delay and promised myself I’d tell you the next time I saw you. But that’s the day your dad came to the club. And then I got the marriage idea, and I decided telling you was the worst thing I could do at that point.”

“Wouldn’t it be the most important thing you should have told me?”

“Would you have agreed to the marriage if I had?”

Now I feel my anger starting to surface. “No. But that was my choice to make.”

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