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“No way. That’s a dick move.”
“I’m just saying, if you back out now, you still have time to come up with a solo. If you wait too long, you’ll be screwed.”
“I can’t do that.” I eye him in challenge. “Would you let your teammates down if they were counting on you?”
He answers without hesitation. “Never.”
“Then what makes you think I’d do that?”
“Because Cass isn’t your teammate,” Garrett says quietly. “From the sound of it, he’s been working exclusively against you from the start.”
Again, I’m afraid he’s right, but it really is too late to make a change. I committed to the duet, and now I have to follow through on it.
“I agreed to sing with him,” I say firmly. “And my word means something.” I glance at Garrett’s alarm clock and curse when I notice the time. “I have to go. My ride’s probably waiting outside.” I quickly slide off the bed. “Just have to pee first.”
He snickers. “TMI.”
“People pee, Garrett. Deal with it.”
When I come out of the bathroom a few minutes later, Garrett wears the most innocent expression on the planet. So of course, I’m instantly mistrustful. I stare at the books strewn on the mattress, then at the messenger bag I left on the floor, but nothing seems out of place.
“What did you do?” I demand.
“Nothing,” he says nonchalantly. “Anyway, I have a game tomorrow night, so our next session will have to be Sunday. Is that cool? Late afternoon-ish?”
“Sure,” I answer, but I still can’t fight the sneaking suspicion he’s up to something.
It isn’t until I walk into my dorm room fifteen minutes later that I discover my suspicions were warranted. My jaw drops in outrage when a text from Garrett comes in.
Him: Confession: I deleted all the 1 Direction from your phone when you were in the can. You’re welcome.
Me: WHAT?? I’m going to kiss you!
Him: With tongue?
It takes me a second to realize what happened, at which point I’m completely mortified.
Me: Kill you! I meant KILL you. Damn autocorrect.
Him: Surrrrrre. Let’s blame it on autocorrect.
Me: Shut it.
Him: I think someone wants to kiss me…
Me: Good night, Graham.
Him: You sure you don’t want to come back here? Give our tongues some exercise?
Me: Ew. Never.
Him: Uh-huh. PS—check your email. I sent you a Spotify playlist. Actual music.
Me: Which will be going straight to my trash folder.
I’m grinning to myself as I send the message, and Allie chooses that exact moment to wander into my room.
“Who are you texting?” She’s drinking one of her nasty juices, and the straw pops out of her mouth as she gasps. “Holy shit! Is it Justin?”
