Page 51 of The Dating Game

“Sarah Bochman?” I echo in confusion. “She’s not on the bus.”

Brooke’s head whips around. “She’s not?”

“Uh, no.” I shake my head. “She backed out of chaperoning.”

“She did?” Brooke squeaks.

“Yeah.” I choose to leave out the reason why. “Do you know her?”

“Um,” she chews her lip, “no.”

“Then how did you know she was chaperoning?”

“Oh, that.” She lets out a very high-pitched laugh. “I don’t know where I heard it. Sydney probably. Or Hannah. Yeah, Hannah makes more sense. It was probably from her.” She’s rambling a little, her cheeks lighting up like Rudolph’s nose.

My mind circles back to the conversation Luke and I walked in on the other day, the one that involved Brooke being told to mark me like a dog marks a fire hydrant. At the time I dismissed it as one of Belinda’s over-the-top attempts to bring a touch of romcom into her everyday life, but now I’m having second thoughts. They said they were telling her about the mission trip, and now Brooke is asking me about Sarah Bochman.

I don’t think it’s much of a leap to assume the two are connected. And if they are, does that mean Brooke was worried about me going on this trip with Sarah? Is that why she signed up to go?

I would never admit this out loud, but the idea that this could be the case boosts my ego considerably. To be fair I’ve been operating under the assumption that Brooke is here for one reason only: to win a bet. So of course this new suggestion that there might be some real attraction on her side is a welcome discovery.

Or a dangerous one.

I’m not completely sure which.

“But since she didn’t come after all, I guess you can’t use her as female on bus.” She taps the pad of her Mad Lib smartly. “If you do pick me, fair warning, I expect only complimentary adjectives going forward.” She folds her hands over the book and her thumbs start twirling rapidly around one another.

I bite back a smile. “Oh, that goes without saying,” I tell her. Her endearing display of fidgeting stills, and she peeks my way. I hold her amber gaze, hoping she sees the teasing affection in mine. The softsmile that plays along her lips indicates that she does. Her posture relaxes, and she turns back to the task at hand.

“So, are you picking me then?” she asks, tucking a curl behind her ear.

“Of course I pick you,” I say softly. Again her head jerks my way, but this time I look away, not wanting her to see the double meaning behind my words. One small hint that she might have more than friendly feelings for me is not enough to overshadow the bet aspect of this relationship; so really it’s best to keep my own non-friendly feelings for her close to the chest. At least for now.

“Right. Brooke,” she says as she busies herself writing that down. “Okay, the next prompt is: verb ending in -ing.”

“Kissing,” I say without thinking. Well, there goes keeping my feelings for her close to the chest, but as I watch her answering blush bloom prettily across her cheeks, I can’t bring myself to regret it.

Chapter 20

Brooke

We'reofficiallyinTexas.Of course we still have hours to go until our final destination, but being in the state we’re going to end up in still feels like a milestone. We stopped for lunch about an hour ago, and the hubbub of energy following that has died down, leaving the bus quiet save for the sound of the movie playing on the screens mounted every couple of rows.

After over an hour of Mad Libs, followed by a nap (with zero shoulder snuggling…sadly), then easy chatter and more car games, Will and I have each settled into our own personal forms of entertainment. Incidentally, for both of us that form of entertainment turns out to be reading.

That’s right—Will is a reader! A reader! Another box checked off.

The only unfortunate part about this discovery is that it makes it hard to focus on my own book. I keep having the urge to look his way just to catch a glimpse of his profile as he scans the screen of his kindle. When he got out his Paperwhite he also got out this pair of reading glasses (for blue light protection he informed me), and helooks ridiculously handsome in them. They give him this whole smart and well-read vibe that pairs nicely with his general sexy vibe.

Man, I can’t believe I threw up on this guy.

That thought is still haunting me. It gives him the complete upperhand in our relationship. He’s seen me perform a gross bodily function.

As a general rule I don’t perform gross bodily functions anywhere but a bathroom. Burping, farting, anything involving a toilet—all things done behind a closed door.

And even then I’ve been known to say excuse me to no one at all just so the sink doesn’t think I have no manners.

Vomiting does not fit with the put together image I try to portray, and falling for a guy that’s already witnessed two behind the scenes moments where I was the opposite of put together is a bad idea. Basically he’s seen me at my physical worst and my emotional worst (thanks for that, Grant), which is not what I want in a relationship. I want a man who, after spending time with me, is in awe of how amazing I am. And I don’t mean that in a vain, I’m so amazing way. I just want a man tothinkthat I’m amazing. Out of his league. A ten.

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