Page 50 of The Publicity Stunt
Wells starts handing out the grades for last week’s assignment, slowly making his way to the top row. I sneak a peek in April’s direction. Her shoulders are caved in and her gaze is still trained to her laptop screen. I nudge her arm with my elbow and she lifts her green eyes at me. “My Halloween costume came today,” I tell her. “Gambit.”
Normally, that sentence alone would’ve been enough to bring a bright smile to her face. Halloween is like crack for Marvel nerds. And even more so for two Marvel nerds. But since things aren’t that great between us, she just gives me a nonchalant smile and says, “Sounds great.”
I try not to show my hurt on my face.
“Shit, man,” Logan whispers to me. “You can have ten bucks back.”
He’s making a sad awww face and I fight the urge to hit him. Logan is the only other person who knows about my moronic crush. At the time, we’d just been introduced as roommates and it was only reasonable that I decided to share my deepest, darkest secret with a total stranger. Three days later, I regretted it with every ounce of my being. Because Logan developed an even bigger moronic crush on April’s roommate, Shara. He swore he’d never tell her, but who knows how far the guy is willing to go for his lady love.
“Thanks, man.” I pry the note from his fingers and flip him off at the same time. He chuckles.
Ten minutes later, Wells dismisses the class and the lecture hall resonates with the sound of laptops shutting and students shuffling to get out of their seats.
“Hey, so listen.” April turns to look at us. “Shara wanted to know what’s a good time to come over tonight.”
Logan pipes up from behind me. “For what?” He straps his backpack over his shoulder. “Actually, it doesn’t matter. She can come over any time she likes. Tonight, tomorrow—now’s good too.”
“So, eight?” April smiles. “She wanted to pregame with you guys before Theta Chi’s Halloween party.”
“Eight’s perfect. What’s she going as? Sexy nurse? Sexy doctor? Oooh, it’s sexy scientist, isn’t it?”
I roll my eyes and April’s lip twitches as she tries not to laugh.
The three of us step into the aisle and start making our way to the door. “Just Shara?” I ask as she walks next to me.
“Hm?” She looks up and the brief moment of distraction causes her to trip over one of the steps.
I grab her arm. April goes stiff, her eyes lowering to the spot where my fingers are wrapped around her wrist. “Thanks,” she says and I let go. The tightness in my chest is almost unbearable.
I’ve spent hours, days, weeks wondering if April could possibly like me the way I liked her. Wishful thinking. In the months following our kiss, I thought about coming clean and just asking her point blank. She must like me back, right? If not always, at least sometimes?
But the fear of rejection always gets the better of me. Right now, our friendship still exists, no matter how strained. If she says she doesn’t like me back—well, I don’t think I’m mature enough to let it slide.
“Is it just Shara, or are you gonna be coming too?” We resume the walking. “I’m only asking so we know how much beer to buy.” Yeah, right.
“Oh.” She hesitates. “It’s just Shara. I’ll meet you guys at the party.”
“Come on, April,” I say, lightly nudging her shoulder with mine. “It’s Halloween. Seems a bit wrong if we don’t spend it together.”
She stifles a laugh. “Don’t be dramatic. You’ll see me at the party.”
“But I don’t even know what you’re going as. What if I don’t recognize you?”
“You’ll probably be the only guy to recognize me.”
I frown, and just as I’m about to ask what that means, someone calls out her name. I turn around and see Ben Johnson climb up the stairs, looking at April, grinning from ear to ear.
“Hey, gorgeous,” he says in a flirty tone. Gorgeous? He holds out an arm, almost as if he’s about to go in for a hug — oh, and then he does. April hugs him back, although her embrace is awkward as fuck.
“We still on for tonight?” Ben adds, sliding his palm over the arm of her sweatshirt as he pulls back. My frown deepens. Tonight? What the fuck is tonight?
April shifts her stance, stealing a quick glance at me. “Yeah,” she tells him. “Eight p.m., right?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He slides his hands into the pockets of his football jacket, acknowledging our presence with a light nod. “Want me to pick you up?”
“Oh, no, that’s okay. It’s just a ten-minute walk. I could use the exercise,” she adds as a joke.
“Nah.” Ben tips his head back, giving her body long, thorough once-over. “You’re pretty perfect as it is.”
