Page 52 of Pick Me

I dropped my jaw. “What?” I pretended to be surprised since it sounded like something that might hurt.

Henry nodded. “I felt so bad. I haven’t been able to look at Brooks and his blown-up chipmunk cheek since.”

“How do you know he looks like a chipmunk if you haven’t looked at him since he got hit?”

“What?”

“Well, you just said you couldn’t look at him after hitting him. Knowing that he looked like a chipmunk would suggest that you did, in fact, look at him.”

He blinked a couple of times, taking me in. Was I being facetious? Yes. I was trying to get something out of him other than wide-eyed confusion.

“That’s a good point. I, uh, guess it’s because other people told me.” I frowned, so annoyed that was his answer. Why couldn’t he throw me a sarcastic barb? He was just so bland.

My fingers danced across the table as I subtly checked my phone for the time. We’d been on this date for an hour and a half, and I was silently begging my brother to call me so I had an excuse to leave.

After the stunt Jackson pulled yesterday, I doubted he’d care if I showed up earlier. If Britt were to be believed, he’d probably like it. I snorted thinking about it. Britt had to be messing with me. There was no way Jackson was interested in anything other than annoying me.

I yawned, making a show of my stretching. “You know what? It’s getting late. I might need to head home soon.”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” He rubbed his hands together, his gaze shifting around the room. “Can I walk you home?”

“We live in the same apartment block so it would be weird if you didn’t.”

He let out a chuckle. “Yeah, that’s a good point.” It was then I started to wonder if he thought I just said that to get him to come home with me.

This was terrible, and even though I wanted to be anywhere but here, I kept my smile in place. I’d bump into him after this, and I didn’t want things to get awkward. It wasn’t his fault he was as bland as that biscuit he kept talking about. I was just used to someone with a little more fire.

He chuckled, and I wondered if he thought this was going as terribly as I did. Judging by the fact he tried to take my hand, I’d take it as a no. He must have thought this was going well, which kind of made me feel bad for him. Poor guy.

“Thanks for tonight,” I said, standing in front of the apartment door. Henry smiled, and although there was a slither of guilt in my stomach, I was relieved the night was finally over. My fingers brushed against the doorknob, itching to turn it and end this whole thing, but I was too polite to do that. We were neighbors, after all.

Henry shifted on the balls of his feet, hands stuffed in his pockets, looking almost… shy? Strange. That move reminded me of Jackson this morning. As I took in more of Henry’s features, I started to realize Jackson and Henrydidkind of look alike. Dark hair, dimples, bashful smile. Jackson was about three times Henry’s size, but the resemblance was there.

“I had a really great time tonight,” he said, his smile a little too wide. A little too eager. Would it be mean to invite him in for a coffee just to annoy Jackson? I rolled my eyes. Always thinking about Jackson.

Before I could decide either way, the door swung open, and I stumbled backward… straight into Jackson’s bare chest.

Shirtless. Again. I was starting to wonder if Jackson had burned all his shirts just to taunt me.

His warm breath tickled my neck, and I said, “Jackson” a little too wistfully.

He looked down at me, then up at Henry, assessing him.

I could feel the tension in the hallway and yet… I wasn’t moving. I was stillnestledagainst Jackson, soaking in the warmth of his skin and the solid feel of his muscles under my palm. Why did I have this yearning to map the ridges of his muscles with my—

Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope.

We are not thinking about Jackson like that. He’s an asshole, after all.

“Hey, guys!” Jackson said way too cheerfully. “How’d the date go?”

“You gotta be kidding me?” I scoffed, pushing off him and brushing the imaginary dust off my arms. “Were you just standing behind the door, waiting?” I took him in, ignoring the panging in my stomach. It was just hunger from the lack of sustenance from this date. I didn’t like to eat when I was out with new people in case they commented about how large my meals were compared to my size.

“Pyro, your voice is so loud I heard you coming from downstairs.”

Liar. He was up to something; I was sure of it.

I hadn’t been talking when we came up the stairs. Meaning hehadbeen listening, and if he was willing to lie about something so small, what else was he willing to lie about?

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