Page 43 of It's in the Contract
Zeke shrugs, but he gives me a small smile. “You’re welcome.” His smile widens. “And it’s in our contract, remember?”
“Of course.”Zeke will always have Callie’s back.“This contract is proving to be more beneficial to me than it is to you.”
“Not true.” Zeke tosses his yogurt bowl in a nearby recycling bin. He looks back at me, his eyes full of a warmth I can’t quite identify. “Not true, Callie.”
Sixteen
Oh how far Callie Carter’s standards have fallen.
Instagram caption by @briellewilliamsplus.
My mood is dampenedas we drive to our next destination, even with the square of Gosanko’s Fudge in my belly. Oh my gosh, that fudge. It’s dangerous. I tried to have only a teeny tiny piece but ended up eating the whole square. It’s sooooo good. And there’s something about being around Zeke that makes me want to let my guard down.
It’s scary.
I check my posts while Zeke drives. People are already commenting, even some from our school who are normally outside my circle of influence, so I consider that a great start. I’ve also got a follow from @carolineharriscoolmom, and I smile and follow her back. She’s commented on several of the pictures, so I hold up the phone and show Zeke.
He glances at the phone briefly and smiles. “Perfect.”
“Park there,” I say, pointing.
Zeke parks the car on the side of the road. We exit, and I gesture for Zeke to follow me up a rocky hill. Cars zip acrossthe freeway overpass above us. The ground is loose, and my lavender and off-white sneakers slip and slide. The air still smells slightly damp from the earlier rain.
“So . . . this troll,” Zeke says. “What is it?”
“You’ll see. You’re not a true Seattle-ite until you’ve seen the Fremont Troll.”
We walk the rest of the way in silence, and I wonder if my mood is affecting Zeke. I wonder what he’s thinking. I wonder if this is a comfortable silence for him or if it’s awkward. For me, it feels awkward.
But we’re not friends so . . . who cares?
I keep thinking about that picture Brielle took. What will she do with it?
“You okay?” Zeke asks, climbing over a group of boulders then turning around to take my hand and help me up. His touch is light as a feather, his skin warm.
“I’m good, thanks.” We continue our walk up the rocky hill.
“What’s that girl’s name?”
“Brielle.”
Zeke frowns. “She’s something.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Something.”
“And by something I mean a total jerk.”
I laugh. “Yeah.”
“There’s one in every school,” Zeke says, stooping to pick up an interesting rock and then tossing it aside. “Someone who thinks they’re better than everyone else.” Zeke studies me. “Why would you go to her party if you hate her?” Zeke asks.
I shrug. “Everyone goes. People will talk if I’m not there.” I hesitate. “You should come with me. If we want it to look like you’re in my friend group, people will expect it.”
Zeke shrugs. “Didn’t Brielle say I wasn’t invited?”
“It’s such a big party she probably won’t even notice us.”
“I’ll think about it,” Zeke says. “So this is it, huh?”
