Page 118 of The Surprise Play
“You good?” he asks.
“Yes,” I whisper, pulling my coat around my legs and not wanting to look at him.
He studies me for a second, I can feel it, then closes my door and walks around to the front.
Nylah’s already buckled up and ready to go.
She glances over her shoulder, grinning at me as I reach for my seat belt.
I give her a closed-mouth smile, hoping she’s not about to start up some conversation I don’t want to participate in.
My knee hurts. And I’m still burning with humiliation.
I just need a second to balance myself.
Music blasts through the truck the second Carson starts the engine, and I flinch while Nylah laughs.
“You’re gonna go deaf.” She reaches for the volume, then skips the song.
“Hey,” Carson complains. “That was my jam, kitty.”
“Sorry.” She laughs but doesn’t bother skipping back to replay the song. Instead, she starts bopping along to the next track and singing.
Carson shakes his head. “You are so not sorry.”
She laughs some more and winks at him. “You’re right. I’m so not sorry.” Then she belts out the words to the bridge before launching into the chorus.
She has a beautiful voice.
I would sing along with her—I love this song—but my knee hurts and…
Shifting my coat aside, I steal a glimpse at my sweats. Yep, they’re ripped. And yep, that’s blood.
Oh my gosh!
Now I have to spend the evening with bloody sweatpants on, and that’s so gross.
Seriously. I can’t believe I fell over in front of these two super-cool people who are driving me to my super-gorgeous boyfriend’s house.
Wait, boyfriend?
Is that what he is now?
Before, you weren’t sure what he was.
Biting my bottom lip, I gaze out the window, my insides coiling as I wonder if he even wants to be my boyfriend or whether we’re best to not label it when he’ll be leaving permanently after graduation.
Glancing back to the front, I watch Carson and Nylah as he takes her hand, threading their fingers together andkissing the inside of her wrist while she sings. He then gives her this sweet, loved-up smile, and…
Oh man, I’d love Wily to want to be mine.
Because I’m his.
There’s no doubt about it.
Why else would I rush out the door in nothing but my ugly sweatpants?
Why else would I let these two talk me into turning up at his place with blood on my clothes and an embarrassing story about tumbling down my front steps?
