Page 80 of Ruthless Rose

Chapter 43

But he didn’t text me after the game. And, ridiculously, it bothers me so much that I can’t concentrate on the book I’m reading and finally toss it aside. I don’t want to be that girl, so I don’t send him a text like I want to, either.

When he’s still silent Saturday morning, I get up the courage to call him, but it goes straight to voice mail.

The reality is that Micah is a big boy and can probably take care of himself, but his words the other day keep coming back to me—no one cares, no matter what he does. Finally unable to stop myself, I tap out a couple of quick texts to him.

Me:Micah? You okay?

Me:Are you still sick?

After five agonizing minutes, the dots signaling he’s typing begin to hop up and down.

Daph’s Dream Dick:I’m fine. Must have eaten something weird.

I wait a few minutes, expecting him to elaborate or say something about meeting up tonight, but there’s nothing. I’m due at school to put up decorations, so I tuck my phone into my pocket and hope it’s only that he’s not quite feeling like himself. If he doesn’t show up at the dance tonight, I’ll be sad, but I’d rather he stay home if he’s not feeling up to it. It’s not like I’m officially his girlfriend, and it’s not like we’re going to the dance together. Still, I’d hoped to see him there—so he could see the beautiful dress I’d purchased thanks to him.

My heart sinks a little bit. I really hope he’s okay. I think back to the way he’d held me while Scarlett painted his number on my face … I’d felt safe. Loved?

Am I overthinking this? Crap. Probably. And now I feel selfish that I’m thinking of myself instead of him. This is exactly what girls who have no experience with dating do to themselves. This is where all the drama of high school relationships develops. I see it now. God, listen to me trying to psycho-analyze myself so I feel better.

In the end, all I can do is hope he’s fine and try to focus on finishing out my commitment to the homecoming committee. That perks me up. Thank goodness this bullshit is almost over.

I’ve just finished hanging an insane number of stars from the ceiling of the lunchroom, which has actually been transformed into something rather beautiful, when my phone rings. Seeing it’s Scarlett, I swipe my thumb over the screen and answer. “Hey. What’s up?”

“You sound out of breath.”

“Well, I’ve been up and down this ladder decorating for the dance for hours now. I finished about a minute ago.”

“Oh good. Tiny change of plans. Can you meet at my house later? Xander and Max have a surprise for us.”

My brows raise. “Oh yeah?”

“Yep, and Aunt Liz says to tell your mom not to worry, she’ll share photos. If that’s okay, I mean. If she really wants to come over and take photos, she can.”

“Actually, they’re tied up at the bookstore because they had to let their cashier go.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah. Anyway, I’ll get dressed and come over. What time do you want me there?”

“Six—so I can do your makeup for you.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. “Really?”

“For sure. We’ll do something to play up those green eyes of yours. I’ll turn you into a smoke show. How’s that sound?”

I groan a little into the phone. “I guess so.”

“Come on, girl. You know you want to look good. Not just for Micah, either.”

“You’re right. I do.” I heave out a breath. I don’t say it aloud, but I don’t want to give anyone a single opportunity to say anything about me. I want tonight to be perfect.

Sitting in Scarlett’s room on her desk chair a few hours later, I resist the urge to look in the mirror. It turns out that while she doesn’t wear a ton of makeup on an everyday basis, she’s very adept at applying it.

“Almost done. I want to put another coat of mascara on.”

“Really?”

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