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Dammit, Juliana, quit staring! I scold myself, whipping my gaze elsewhere.
Not for my brother's sake, who wouldn't notice me staring if I'd pulled out a pair of binoculars. Me, having a crush... on a boy... those two things just don't mix in his brain. He's like an overprotective dad with selective eyesight, who still thinks I'm eight years old.
So, no. This whole not staring at my brother's best friend thing—it's something I've been working on. Or trying to work on, more like. Since... I don't even know how long.
Maybe since middle school, when I finally admitted to myself that I had a crush but was too shy to do anything about it. Or perhaps freshman year, when I quickly realized how different I was from Hayden's type, judging by the cheer squad—half of whom he either dated at one point or fooled around with. The intimate details of which I could never escape, not when he visited my brother so often and the wall between our bedrooms is as thin as paper.
To Hayden, I'm like a subtle draft breezing through the room, inconspicuous and overlooked. Just a geeky girl in glasses he grew up alongside. Which is why he's more interested in food than my admission letters.
Still, his presence doesn't make this any easier.
As I pick the next letter, I clear my throat, catching the sole attention of Jeremy. "This one's from U Penn."
"Ohhhhh, maybe you're destined to be a Quaker."
"We'll see, we'll see..." I tear open the envelope, shaking my head when Jeremy starts drum rolling on the table. On the outside, I may appear nonchalant with each letter, but inside, I'm anything but. My stomach's like a bowl of spaghetti dumped into a KitchenAid on high speeds. That is, until I read the first word:
Congratulations!
I release a breath. "I got in."
POP! Confetti blasts across the table, showering me in praise once more, as our silverware rattles like there's an earthquake, water spilling over the rims of our glasses. "WOOOOOOOO—OW-OW-OW!!!!"
"Oh my god, shush!" I shield my face behind a menu, feeling the gazes of those sitting at nearby tables burning right through the paper. "You're gonna get us kicked out!"
Jeremy's laughter bellows through the air, causing Hayden to cringe at its volume. "Oh, we would've been by now, if Hayden's dad didn't own the place."
My jaw goes slack. I look over at Hayden, whose head still buries between a menu, boredom plain on his features. A subtle smirk is his only confirmation.
I shouldn't be surprised. Sometimes, it seems as if Warren Kingston owns half of Manhattan. It's no wonder the staff didn't bat an eye at Hayden's sweatpants. Being the son of a billionaire—it comes with many perks, I've learned throughout the years.
Releasing a steady breath, I select the next letter, sighing as Jeremy digs into his pocket. A pang of disappointment strikes me when Hayden flips to another page.
Jeremy leans over the table eagerly. "Which school is it?" he asks, exactly how an impatient kid pesters his parents with the classic—are we there yet, are we there yet?!
"This one's for Princeton."
Hayden's gaze flicks over the top of his menu, so subtly I almost miss it, before it darts back down. His jaw ticks, and I swear I catch something I've never seen flicker across his features...
Nervousness.
No, no. That can't be right. My eyes are just seeing what they want. That's all.
I shake my head, before my thoughts spiral out of control, take a deep breath—and just rip the damn thing open.
Silence.
"...what is it? What does it say?"
I release a quick breath. "They accepted me."
Noise erupts from our table as Jeremy somehow outdoes all his previous outbursts. The confetti, the woo-woos, the table pounding, all of it and then some, until his commotion dies down, and the strangest thing happens.
I meet Hayden's stare, who's looking directly at me. Like actually looking at me, as if I exist in his world, a minor blip on his radar. "Congratulations." His voice is calm, his expression cool, yet it's enough to stir butterflies in my stomach.
"Thank you," I say shyly.
The rest of the applications carry on like before. Jeremy is overly eager, while Hayden remains a quiet shadow, who's more interested in his menu, his food, and our waitress. As I open each remaining decision, I'm met with a roar of celebration or Jeremy's words of encouragement. You'll get the next one, he says, before I move onto the next.
