Page 34 of The Game Plan

“What’s wrong?” Miles asks.

“I’m being manipulated into doing something I don’t want to do.”

“So don’t do it,” he says, like it’s that easy.

“She’s going to guilt me into it for the good of the sorority,” I try to explain.

“If you’re not interested, tell her. She’ll respect your decision.” He considers. “Or maybe she won’t, in which case she doesn’t deserve your respect.”

I sigh. “I want towantto participate. I’m just not good at any of the tasks she has available. I suck at decorating. My hand lettering is terrible. I don’t want to deal with a bunch of drunk freshmen. It’s all just… not my idea of a good time.”

“There’s nothing you can do?”

“I barely want to go to this stupid formal to begin with. I hate everything about it.”

He swallows loudly. “You have a formal coming up?”

“Yep.” I rest my cheek on my fist. “And I don’t particularly want to go. Last year wasn’t bad, I went with a friend, but freshman year was awful. It’s not the way I like to spend my time. Getting dressed up to go to a stuffy formal dance… count me out.”

“I wouldn’t know,” he says. “I’ve never been to one of those.”

“A sorority event?”

“A formal dance. I went to the homecoming dance my freshman year of high school,” he says. “It was in the school multipurpose room. It was terrible. I left after the first hour.”

“Exactly. And this is even worse, because everyone will pre-game and then drink at the event, and girls will be puking by, like, ten o’clock.” If my experience last year is any indication, I’ll be the one taking care of Tamar and the girls when they get too in their cups to function.

Miles winces. “Yeah, that doesn’t sound fun.”

I sigh again. “I have to attend, whether I want to or not.”

I’m not looking forward to finding a date. I have no problems with asking a guy out—that’s not the problem. It’s just that the guy I would want to go with is completely oblivious to my feelings for him. He let me hang all over him last night. When he walked me home, I was this close to grabbing him and kissing him.

And then he said goodnight. And then he walked away.

I lost my chance. I know I won’t get another one. I’m going to have to make the best of it and find some random guy to go with. Maybe Greg would—

No. I don’t want to go with Greg or any of the other guys. I don’t even want to go with Jake. I want to go with Miles. I want to spend the night in a pretty dress with a nice, cute guy on my arm, dancing and having a good time. I want Miles. I don’t want anyone else.

Chapter twelve

Miles

There’sanotherbottleofgrape Gatorade sitting on my desk. I cut my eyes over to Sam, who smiles weakly in my direction.

“So you should probably know,” she says, and then bites her lip.

“What’s wrong?”

“Some people posted photos of us. Leaving the party Saturday,” she says.

It’s like there’s a rock in the pit of my stomach. “Oh?”

“I don’t care, but the comment section is… not nice. Don’t waste your time with them.”

I pull out my phone. I’m not into social media, but the athletic department requires us to have accounts on all the major platforms. The team usually tags me in highlight reels or clips from the game, so I’m not surprised to see several hundred unread comments. I never check them unless I’m in the mood to torture myself. Today, though… I need to.

There’s a photo of us leaving the party hand in hand. It’s grainy, zoomed in and cropped, trying to fabricate gossip. There is no denying that we’re leaving together.

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