Page 56 of I Don't Need Your Love
She makes a move to tuck some hair behind her ear, but remembers it’s tied up. “Yeah, but mostly nervous.”
I lean against the back of the seat in front of them. “Why? You’ll do great. We all will.”
She gives me a small smile, but doesn’t say anything. I keep my gaze on her, wanting to say something, but I’m not sure what. That she’s awesome because she put this together? I already had a cake brought out for her at the diner. Or maybe I should just keep my mouth shut and let her focus on today.
Addie looks from me to Carly and shoots to her feet. “Here, Ryder. You should sit with Carly.”
Carly’s eyes grow as large as a soccer ball and she tugs her friend’s hand. “What are you doing?” she hisses.
“I promised Naya I’d sit with her.” She tries to free her hand, but Carly’s got a firm grip.
“You’re not going anywhere,” she says through clenched teeth.
Addie gives me a wide smile before plucking Carly’s hand off hers and slipping into the aisle. She doesn’t glance at Carly before bending to fetch her backpack and making her way to the front of the bus, where Naya sits.
Carly keeps her eyes on her friend’s back, as if she’s refusing to glance my way. And even after Addie drops down in the seat, Carly still has her eyes on her.
A few seconds pass and she still won’t look at me.
“Can I sit?” I ask.
She shrugs. “It’s not like I own the bus. You can sit wherever you want.”
“Cool.” I lower myself next to her and place my backpack at my feet. “Was worried I’d have to stand the entire trip.”
She finally turns to me and gives me a look. “There are lots of empty seats in the back. Near the other girls.”
I don’t look at where she’s pointing, just at her. “Nope. This is the only empty seat.”
She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest and gazing out the window.
Scooting closer to her so that there’s barely any space between us, I also look out the window. There’s nothing much out here. Just Coach talking to Principal Harrington near the entrance to the school. “What are we looking at?” I whisper, my mouth close to her ear.
A slight tremor goes through her, but she doesn’t give me any attention.
“I have the perfect thing to distract us and make us less nervous,” I tell her. I reach into my backpack, pull out my earbuds, and hold one out to her.
She glances at it, then at me. “Something tells me we don’t have the same taste in music.”
I grin. “Probably not, but all girls like this playlist I made. Check it out.” I hold out my phone.
She narrows her eyes. “I’m not interested in the manygirlsyou’ve shared these songs with.” She turns back to the widow.
“When I said all the girls, I really just meant one. A special girl with whom I only want to listen to music with.”
“And who’s thisspecial girl,” she mutters from the window.
“A girl I hope will stop holding a grudge against me because of something I did when we were kids.”
Slowly, like time is freezing, she turns around and looks at me. The expression in her eyes tells me she has no idea what to say.
“Carly.” I take her hand. “I’m really trying here. Why can’t we start over? Why are you so upset about something that happened so long ago?”
“It’s notsomething.”
“Then what is it? You said it’s not the Lego, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. It’s like you said—it was a long time ago.”
