Page 61 of Getting Lucky Number Seven

He turned to talk to someone, and I let out a relieved breath when the someone was a guy instead of a girl. I thought it was one of his teammates, but the features were too hard to make out at this distance.

“…major?” Noah asked.

I glanced at him, taking a stab at the part of the question I’d missed. “Chemistry. I want to get a job in pharmaceuticals someday.”Like maybe at my sorta-ex-boyfriend’s company, because that won’t be awkward at all.“You?”

“Math. I’m thinking engineer, but I haven’t decided for sure yet.”

Score! He totally fits the nerd requirement.He picked at something on his shirt. “Ugh, my dog sheds like crazy.”

“My cat does, too. Pretty much anything dark-colored is like catnip to him.”

Noah laughed. “Right? How do they know?”

Inwardly I did a happy dance that I’d figured out how to talk to guys so easily, but then I realized it was because I didn’t care. Noah was a nice guy, and on paper, we’d probably be the perfect match. But my skin didn’t hum around him, and maybe that’d change with time, but I could hardly focus on him when I knew Beck was somewhere in the room.

I glanced at the spot I’d seen him last, and there he was.

Staring right at me.

Our eyes locked and a sharp pain shot through my chest.I’m strong, I’m strong, I’m strong.

We stared far past the polite range, and the blur of the crowd, music, and flashing lights faded into the background. Then Beck took a step toward me. Sure I was about to faint, I gripped Noah’s arm like a lifeline, even though I’d been ignoring whatever he’d been telling me.

The muscles along Beck’s jaw tightened, tension filling the planes of his perfect face. I worried I was reading too much into his expression, but I swore he paled, and he looked…well, absolutely miserable. Pretty much the way I’d felt since our big blowout, no matter how hard I tried to pretend otherwise.

Afraid I’d burst into tears, or worse—fling myself at him and beg him to take me back—I forced myself to turn away. “Sorry, I…” My brain was too hazy to come up with anything to say. For a brief moment I entertained the idea of kissing Noah to show Beck I was over him—to hurt him the way he’d hurt me—but I didn’t want to be that girl.

I was me. I was strong. I was…aching, aching, aching.

I looked for Beck again, deciding I needed to at least see how he was doing and, if he’d actually talk to me, ask him if things were better with his family. Despite everything, I wanted him to be able to push past all his demons and be happy. It’d kill me to be near him and not reach for him, but somewhere buried underneath the rubble of our relationship was the friendship we’d started with, even though I knew it’d forever be mangled as well.

But he was gone, and suddenly I worried I’d never see him again, and then I wanted to sit down on the sticky, cup-littered ground and cry.

My phone vibrated against my hip. With the music, I hadn’t even heard the chime. I pulled it out and read the text.

Beck:Is that your bf?

I stared at the words. Seeing his name on my screen again stirred up a tornado of emotions, and a giant lump rose in my throat.

What to say, what to say? Words tumbled through my mind, so many responses to such a simple question, most of which had nothing to do with the actual question. Slowly, I forced my thumbs into motion.

Me:No. Just met him.

Beck:Conquest for the list, then?

I glanced around, trying to see where he was. Noah smiled at me, and I felt rude for texting instead of talking. I lowered my phone. Let Beck stew.

But it was easier said than done—my hands twitched, my fingers burning with the desire to send a response, and finally, I couldn’t stand it. Especially after that last text. What the hell kind of question was that anyway?

“Sorry, Noah, but could you excuse me for a second?” I took a few steps away from him, my emotions morphing from agony to anger, although my heart still ached like someone had put it through the wringer and then shoved it back in my chest.

He breaks my heart and then dares to ask me about conquests? Does he expect me to ask him the same? Give him a high five if we both leave with someone?

I must’ve only imagined the tormented expression on his face—stupid wishful thinking, or projecting, or whatever had caused my mind to play tricks on me. I typed my reply, which wasn’t easy considering how badly my hands had started shaking.

Me:It’s none of your business. What are you trying to do to me?

My phone chirped and I stared at the picture he’d sent me. Chemistry Cat with his glasses and bowtie. On the top it said:do you have11protons?Then, underneath:because you are sodium fine.

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