Page 58 of Tell Me When It's Over

“It’s embarrassing,” I whisper. Considering who I’m talking to, the lack of attention I get when it comes to dating is lackluster. I don’t want to talk to him about how nobody since Beckham has shown me any interest, and even that was skewed by his cruel intentions. “It’s nice to be wanted for once, okay? I’m excited for this and you’re ruining it by being a jerk.”

“Don’t.” He uses two fingers to guide my chin back to meet his eyes. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about, Lele. Nothing at all. And you know what? I don’t believe that nobody has asked you out since then. Knowing you, you probably just didn’t realize it. You’ve always avoided stuff like that.”

The burning in my chest is back. Flirting is one thing I tended to be bad at acknowledging unless someone made it blatantly obvious, but being asked out? How could someone, even someone as awkward as me, mess that up? “I haven’t been. It doesn’t even matter—”

“It clearly does.”

“It doesn’t,” I say too harshly for him to believe in the lie. Okay, so I’m bothered a little. Who wouldn’t be? My experience with guys is probably nothing like most people my age. I used to be proud of that because it meant I was being picky about who I spent my time on. Not like Mom who tended to fall for any guy who gave her attention. “I really, really don’t want to talk about it, Kyler. Okay? Please?”

His fingers drop from my chin and fall onto the counter that his forearms are leaning on. For a while, I don’t think he’ll agree. The way his eyes search mine makes me uncomfortable because I worry what he sees. Then he relents with a long sigh and stands. “I don’t like you getting down on yourself. You’re better than that, Leighton. That’s all I’ll say.” The for now silently tacked on lingers between us.

Squirming until I can’t stand it, I slide off the chair and start walking toward the stairs. Stopping at the archway, I look over my shoulder where he’s dumping his shake into a glass. “Hey, Ky? What did you tell Chase after he asked? If he asked you, if you knew, then…”

He lifts his gaze, and half his lips are curved upward into a subtle smirk. “What do you think I said? He ended up asking you out, didn’t he?”

His insinuation that he influenced Chase’s decision makes me shake my head.

“You think it’s a good idea?” I ask in a tiny voice, part of me hoping he’ll say yes, and the other—a much larger piece of me—praying he says no.

“Like you said,” he tells me smoothly, whatever residual anger from earlier gone and replaced with reluctant distance, “he seems like a good kid. Mia wouldn’t push you toward him if she thought he’d hurt you, so I trust her. I think it’s…a good idea that you’re giving him a chance. I think it’d be best if you did.”

“Oh.” Best because of what reason? I want to ask, crave to know the answer he’s pushing for this, but I don’t because I’m too chicken.

He hums out a non-verbal reply.

“And me?” I find myself asking after another long beat passes between us, not willing to think about him wanting me to go out with Chase. “Do you trust me?”

His eyes rake over mine, a look in those russet hues that tells me his answer before he parts his lips. “Always.”

I press my lips together and nod, telling him I’m going upstairs after we fall into a thick silence. When I close my bedroom door, I see that there’s a badly wrapped present on my bed. When I open it, I stare at the slightly worn book in my hands and loosen a breath at the note attached.

The woman at the bookstore said people love this one. Consider it the first step at your new collection. – Ky.

It took a few weeks, but I finally earned the stability of an additional twelve hours at Delmar’s without being heckled by any big guys with bigger cameras. Mel seems happy, and Harmony hasn’t said anything, or looked at me for that matter, since being talked to. By my calculation, which I did as soon as I got home when my new work schedule was posted Friday night, the extra shifts give me enough to buy my fall textbooks, even though the determined moneybag I’m rooming with keeps insisting he’ll loan me the money for whatever I need. Not happening.

It’s nice enough he pretends not to notice the groceries I buy for him—things I’d never eat in a million years that are green, lean, and leafy. Pass. It isn’t like I eat Kraft mac and cheese every day, but the amount of spinach he consumes makes me want to call him Popeye.

Once I realized what he ate, I made a mental note and picked up a few items here and there whenever I’d grab things for myself at the store. When my paychecks increased, I started buying more since he refuses to let me contribute other ways. He probably knows I’d find other ways to chip in even though he tells me not to. Once, I attempted to slip him a fifty a few weeks after my first paycheck, which backfired when I found the same bill tucked into my purse the next day. I’ve gotten creative. A package of his favorite organic, non-antibiotic fed chicken breasts, or that gross mineral water that must have healing powers based on the dollar amount per bottle. Sometimes I even order from one of the restaurants he’s obsessed with like the Mediterranean one a few blocks away where they know his order by heart.

It won’t matter if he tells me to stop because he knows I won’t. Like he won’t quit telling me to save my money. I have been. My savings account gets the bulk of my paychecks that doesn’t go toward my phone bill and the groceries.

When Saturday evening rolls around, I’m staring at the clothes sprawled across the bed trying to decide what to wear. Chase told me to dress comfortably for our first date, but I don’t know what that even means. Leggings? Shorts? I own two dresses and neither of them scream “comfortable” even if they do say “this is a date”.

Kyler’s been working on music all day in his room, so bothering him is out of the question. I remember all the times he’d lock himself away when he was in the zone, never wanting to be bothered. Plus, he would tell me to call Mia if I was having problems figuring this sort of thing out. But Mia is out of the question because I’m not ready for the pep talk that would come with her fashion advice. I don’t know her filming schedule either and the last thing I want is my pending date with Chase Matthews broadcasted for all her viewers to see. I already turned down a place in her show after appearing on that one episode, and that included over the phone cameos.

Cringing over the thought of people being in my business—especially if they found out Garrick’s little brother is involved—I grab a few basic but cute items and change in the bathroom. I opt to keep my hair down, letting the curls do their thing and hoping the heat won’t be too brutal. It doesn’t take me long to apply a thin coat of eyeliner that make the gray in my eyes pop before I’m checking the clock on my phone and heading toward the stairs.

“Lenny?” Ky calls from his room. I turn on my heels and beeline for his door, peeking in to see him lounging across his bed with his trusty guitar in his hand. It’s the same one he’s had since he was ten. I know that because there are random stickers on it that I put there over four years ago—stickers consisting of cupcakes, kittens, and an array of other girly things I’m surprised he didn’t peel off the second he could.

“Yeah?”

He sets the guitar down, sliding to the edge of his mattress and propping a knee up while giving me a once over. His lips curl up into a soft smile, but there’s a strain to it that I can’t help but latch onto. “You look pretty.”

Looking down, I take in the black leggings and floral tunic. My favorite pair of Gladiator sandals are on my feet, showing off the freshly painted purple toenails I did this afternoon. When Mia texted me earlier asking if I wanted to get our nails done together, I’d already done my own. I knew she’d pay despite my protests, so she let me weasel my way out of it this time. I know better than to think there’ll be a second.

Wiggling my toes, I lift my gaze back to his with a timid smile. “Thank you.” It’s normal to be nervous, but it feels pointless. I always have fun when I’m with Chase, so I know tonight will be no different.

> Flattening my shirt with my clammy palms, I eye his notebook hoping to distract myself with idle conversation. “How’s the song coming along?”

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