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“Why such an age difference? Were you an oops baby?” He grimaces. “Maybe I shouldn’t have put it like that. Or maybe that was too intrusive of a question?”
“No, not at all. It’s fine.” I don’t want him to be afraid to ask me questions. I’m a freaking open book. “My mom was previously married. They got a divorce, and she met my dad. They got married and I was born less than a year later. So it’s basically like I’m an only child. I love my sisters, but we’re not very close.”
“It’s hard when you don’t grow up together,” he says.
“It is,” I agree. “What about you?”
“I have an older brother and a younger sister. I’m the middle child.”
“Do you have middle child syndrome?”
“Nah, I don’t think I do. But isn’t that half the problem with a middle child? They’re not aware they have a problem?” We both laugh. “My parents are cool. Sometimes Dad comes down harder on us guys. I’m not what he wanted.”
“And what did he want?”
“A jock, like him. Someone who always has a ball in his hands. Football, baseball, basketball, it didn’t matter. My brother is exactly like him. Really good at sports. Broke a couple of reco
rds when he was on the varsity baseball team at our high school,” Carson explains. “My dad tried with me, but I’m totally uncoordinated. And I kind of don’t care, you know? I’m not into it.”
“Yet I bet you played sports for years,” I say.
His smile is bashful. “I did, but I was never very good at any of them. I finally put my foot down right before I started high school. Besides, I probably would’ve been cut from the teams.”
“They cut players on the teams at your high school?”
He sends me an incredulous look. “Well, yeah.”
“Our high school was so small, they practically had to beg people to join teams. Sometimes we wouldn’t even have a JV team.” I frown. “Except for volleyball. We had four teams one year. Varsity, JV, fresh and frosh.”
“That’s crazy.”
“I know.”
“Did you ever play volleyball?”
“Only when I was forced to in P.E.” I wrinkle my nose. “I’m not very good at sports either.”
“What are you good at, Ellie?”
“I’m an excellent organizer.” When he starts to laugh, I protest. “Hey, that’s a solid life skill.”
“It is, I’m not disagreeing.”
“I was in leadership all four years in high school,” I say. “I was senior class vice president.”
“That’s awesome,” he says. “I was president of the video game club my senior year.”
I burst out laughing. I can’t help it. “Tell me you don’t play Call of Duty.”
“If I did, that would be a lie.” He laughs too before grabbing his drink and sucking most of it down. “I should probably go. I need to get back to campus. I have to meet my study group at three.”
“I’m glad we got to hang out for a little while,” I say with a shy smile.
“We’ll get to hang out even more tomorrow night. At the movies,” he reminds me, his smile a little bolder than mine.
“Right.” I nod, wishing he made me feel all giddy and nervous and excited for our date. I mean, I’m excited about my date with Carson tomorrow. I like him. A lot.
But if Jackson never came into my life, becoming such a major presence, it would’ve been so easy to be completely dazzled by Carson. He’s the type of boy I would’ve crushed on hard when I was in high school my freshman and sophomore year. Sweet and cute and a little nerdy. Smart. Shy. Boys like that don’t intimidate me as much.
