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Fear makes my heart feel like it’s in a stranglehold. “You think I could lose her?’
He shrugs. “If that other guy is making moves that are working, then yes. You have the potential to lose her. She’s finding other options instead of just being stuck on you.”
Shit, shit, shit.
“Just don’t make a move for only selfish reasons,” Eli adds.
“What do you mean?”
“Make sure you’re doing this because you really do care about her. That it’s not just some ego thing. If that’s all it is, that’s some straight-up bullshit,” he says. “You like her, you want more with her, cool. You just want to fuck her to see what it’s like? Not cool.”
I’ve always appreciated how my friends don’t hold back, especially Eli. He tells it like it is, and a lot of the time, I need that.
Like now. Now, I really need it.
It’s only when I arrive on campus and am walking to class that I finally get a response from Ellie. Seeing her name flash on my phone screen makes my heart leap.
Who am I right now?
Ellie: OMG YAY! Thank you for letting me know.
I respond to her immediately.
Me: What time do you have to be at work?
Ellie: Four. I can pick it up before that, and then drive straight over to work.
Me: What time do you want me to get you?
Ellie: Um, I don’t know. I’m done with school by two. What time works for you?
Me: I’ll pick you up at three.
She goes quiet for a while, leaving me on edge. I stomp across campus with determined steps, glowering at people who dare to make eye contact with me. Even the girls.
I’m a fucking mess.
By the time I’m settled in my chair in class, I get a text from her.
Ellie: Sounds good! See you at three.
I smile. Contemplate sending her a heart. Even add one to the chat, ready to send it, but I chicken out at the last minute.
Like a heart emoji is going to make all the difference in the world. Like we’re in fucking middle school or something. I need to get over my damn self.
If I was smart, I’d get over Ellie. But I guess I’m not smart.
So I’m going to keep this going instead.
I’m done with my last class for the day and am headed toward the parking lot when my phone rings. I don’t even bother checking to see who it is. I just answer like a dumbass.
“Jackson. Thanks for picking up the call,” an overeager male voice greets me.
I glance at the screen, seeing that it’s an unfamiliar number. Great.
“I don’t have a car warranty that expired. And I own a Mac, not a PC,” I tell him, just about to end the call when I hear him frantically trying to get my attention.
“Jackson, don’t hang up! My name is Rick and I’m with Evergreen Records! I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for weeks!”
