Page 28 of Don't Hate the Player
“Sorry.”
“Stop saying sorry.”
“Sorry.” And this time he says it with a cheeky smile. He can do not talking forever after now, but I don’t think that’s what I want. It’s what they all would expect, but it’s not what I want at all.
“I almost got doxxed a while back.” If the only way to get Jake to know I don’t think he’s dumb is to trust him, then I’ll trust him with this tiny bit of truth. “Well, not doxxed . . . ?just. I was really young and being a girl playingGLO. There were some bad people. My milkshake brought all the trolls to the yard, you know?” Does he know? There’s only so much Ki and Penelope could have told him about what it’s like for us. Even if they did, there’s no guarantee he’d understand.
“Right. No, I get it. Was it really bad?”
“Some of it was definitely illegal if that’s what you’re asking. Considering I’m a minor.”
“Jesus.” Jake exhales loudly. “I’m sorry that happened to you. So the tournament . . .”
“Fury has my back. No personal information, no leaks. They’re protecting me even though I have to show my face.”
“That’s surprising. I mean, it’s good. That’s really good. Just surprising.”
“They’re not bad guys. We just like to win.”
I suddenly remember Byunki’s reaction to seeing Unity win their match and feel terrible for telling Jake about any of my interactions with the team. I bet if I asked him right now what the deal was with that, he’d tell me, but I don’t want to ask. Sharing a car ride is one thing, but sharing the inner workings of our teams is another.
“Anyway, that’s the deal. You might have jammed the lock when you closed your door right after opening it, so let me get the thingy here.” I lean over to pop the lock open with my fingernail . . .
And find I am very, very close to Jake Hooper’s face. I still have my seat belt on, and the resistance against my chest feels like it’s the only thing holding me back from leaning too far over the edge of a cliff. We’re close enough to fog up his glasses, but Jake is frozen in place. He looks just as confused as I am as he leans back in his seat to give me the space I need to move away if I want to. If I think he wants me to.
Oh no, this is easy. It’s never felt this easy before.
My phone, which had so helpfully shouted directions at me through my car’s Bluetooth connection, chooses that moment to blast the chorus from “Funkytown.” Jake and I leap apart like we’ve just been accosted by the ghost of 1979. On my phone, Connor’s shirtless Palm Springs picture takes up the whole screen. Connor did that, not me. Just put it in my contacts one day when I wasn’t looking.
“That’s my cue,” Jake says in the same panicky voice he used when he first saw me at the arena. I’m scrambling at the dashboard controls of my car, trying to lower “Funkytown” to a reasonable volume level before I wake up his entire apartment building.
Come on, phone! I knock my phone from its dashboard dock and decline the call as Jake springs from my car and makes for the lobby door.
“Okay, Em, see you next week and also never, and that’s fine by the way!”
“Jake, wait! Wait. Hold on for one—Jesus. Hold on.” I’m tangled up in my seat belt and have that awful ringtone stuck in my head. Once free (of the seat belt, not the aggressive disco stylings of Lipps Inc.), I hop out the driver’s side and run up to Jake as he’s opening the lobby door.
“We can’t talk at school,” I say, out of breath more from stress than from physical exertion. “It’s too obvious.”
“Right.” Even behind his heavily refracted lenses, Jake’s dark eyes are wide.
“But if you meet me at the east side Dunkin’ next Saturday, I’ll drive you to the tournament again. No one goes there because the west side Starbucks has doughnuts now.”
“Really? Starbucks doughnuts are chalky, though.”
“Not the point. But you’re right.”
“Why do they—”
“It’s a status thing. Do you want the ride or not?”
“I want the ride. And a doughnut now that you brought it up.”
“I’ll buy you a doughnut on Saturday. Seven o’clock?”
“Seven o’clock. And I’ll buyyouthe doughnut. I’m sorry, I’m so hungry and I just realized it.”
“Same. See you Saturday.”
