Page 49 of Betting on the Brainiac

“For sure. But I’ll do it. No big deal,” I say it fast to make it seem like I’m trying to hide that it’s a big deal. It’s a nice touch. Go, me.

Doing a movie party for my roommate’s birthday but it’s low-key to cheer up Ruby. You should come with Charlie. How are the cats?

I hit send and toss my phone on my bed. Maybe the one perk to the mask guy disappearing is that I never gave him my number, so I don’t have to torture myself wondering when he’s going to use it.

Instead, I get to torture myself by wondering when he’ll come find me again.

As silver linings go, it kinda blows.

Chapter Eighteen

Oliver

I sit with oneof the kittens on my lap and stare at Madison’s text, trying to figure out how to take it.

You should come with Charlie.

It’s about as backhanded as an invitation gets. That means she doesn’t know she kissed me. It also means walking into Gatsby’s tomorrow as if nothing has changed is an option—if I want it to be.

Do I?

I’d thought I'd known what I was doing when I decided to step up my game. Friday night proved me wrong. Totally, utterly, disastrously wrong.

In the same way that Madison isn’t the kind of hot you can prepare for, her kiss is not the kind of thing you can anticipate—not when nothing in your grown experience has led you tobelieve that a single kiss can light your world on fire and a second one can burn it down.

Playing with fire is such a cliché. I respect the force that is fire. But after spending the last three weeks working near her, it’s pointless to pretend I’m not all in on the Madison Armstrong Experience.

Going over for a movie party—seeing her outside of work—would be a good chance to start merging the two versions of me in her mind. I could be my more social self, send a signal or two, and watch for Madison to return them. A slightly-too-long glance. A half smile. A brush against her but I don’t apologize.

When I tell her it was me she kissed on Friday, will it put out the fire or fan the flames? Maybe she’ll feel tricked, and that spark will fizzle like she dropped it in dirty mop water.

Maybe I should quit thinking of stupid analogies and decide what I want to do about this party. I can avoid it—and a decision—until tomorrow. Or I can use it as a chance to be a decent guy, tell her what happened, and give us both space to reset before showing up to Gatsby’s tomorrow.

This isn’t a hard call.

I text her to tell her I’m coming and start thinking about how I’m going to bring it up.

“So, about Friday night . . .”

Charlie and I arrivea little after 6:00. We came to the girls’ back door because of where we parked, and the party has definitely started. Madison had texted after lunch to tell us that the theme was S for Sami, and we were supposed to wear something that started with S. The only rule was that we couldn’t buy anything new, but anyone who tried to pass off “shirt” or “sneaker” as their S items would be mocked.

Charlie is wearing suspenders, which is normal. He’s got a cool style, and they work for him. But he usually pairs the suspenders with vintage pants. Today, he’s in seersucker shorts and a Super Mario shirt for extra S credit. I’d been tempted to grab my suit to spark recognition from Madison the second I walked in, but I let common sense score a point. I needed that conversation to happen in a way that made sense, not one that hijacked Sami’s birthday party.

Instead, I went with a red bathrobe my grandma gave me for Christmas, but I didn’t know what I would need a bathrobe for, so it’s been sitting in my closet since December. I’m calling this color scarlet, and I’d been feeling pretty stupid about wearing a bright red bathrobe until we rolled up to the Grove.

Everyone is hanging outside on the patio, wearing everything from a floral sundress (Ruby’s brother, whose shoulders are bulging beneath the straps) to sunglasses (a guy I don’t know who is wearing a regular pair with a folded pair hanging from each earpiece). When I spot Madison sitting on Ruby’s lap and wearing a spatula in her hair like a Flintstones bone, I grin. She’s in shortie pajamas with sloths all over them.

“Boys!” Madison cries. “You’re here! The party can truly start.”

“Suspenders,” Ava says, nodding at Charlie. “That works.”

“Seersucker and Super Mario too,” he says.

Ruby rests her chin on Madison’s shoulder to survey us. “Bathrobe? Robe? Sbathrobe?”

I look down at my getup and shake the tie. “Scarlet?”

Ruby frowns. “I don’t know. It’s a pretty strict dress code. Can I get a ruling, Mads?”

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