Page 26 of Bad Moon Rising
And…I totally choke on that bite of salad.
Becka eyes me with concern as I gasp and sputter. She pushes my water bottle slightly closer to me. I take it gratefully and slug half of it down in a few gulps.
Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I eye her cautiously.
“What about Jackson?”
Is this when she confesses her undying love for him? When she admits she has always had a crush on him? When she launches into a poetic ode to his lickable dimple? When she states she knows that I’ve been in love with him—and his brothers—for years now and wants me to stay in my lane?
“You okay?” Becka asks, ignoring my question.
I wave away her concern. “Perfectly peachy. So what is this about Jackson?” Do I sound as desperate as I believe I do? As needy and pathetic? Please, God, no.
“So…” She eyes me shrewdly from across the table, that same wicked glint I noticed before prevalent in her gaze now. “You probably heard that he asked me to the dance.”
Heard? Most definitely.
Felt my heart shatter into a thousand intricate pieces? Yup.
I try for nonchalant. “Oh, did he?”
She offers me a tight-lipped smile. “He did. And you probably heard that I said yes.”
“Oh.” I stab my salad a little more aggressively, something she no doubt notices when her eyes narrow on the fork in my hand.
“And you probably already know that he didn’t want to ask me to the dance,” she continues, still studying me with that astute intensity of hers that makes me uncomfortable. “That he wanted to ask someone else. Someone…who already has a date.”
What the heck is she talking about?
My confusion must be plain to see on my face because she rolls her eyes and huffs out a breath.
“And you probably don’t know this, but the only reason I said yes is because I’m new here and it’s hard to make friends, especially when your mom is…” Her face darkens. “Never mind. What better way to make friends than going to the dance with the most popular guy in school…even if he’s in love with another girl?”
She continues to eye me steadily, her eyes beseeching me to understand some hidden secret.
In love with another girl?
She doesn’t mean me, does she?
The mere idea is nearly laughable.
“And you probably also don’t know this…” Becka leans forward and grabs a carrot out of my tupperware. “But I’m not into Jackson that way, if you know what I mean. He’s cute, but soooo not my type. So please don’t go all Katniss on me.”
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I sputter out, attempting to regain some modicum of control.
She rolls her pretty eyes and reclines farther back in the chair, bringing the stolen carrot to her lips and biting down. “Sure you don’t,” she drawls out. “I’m telling you all of this because I like you, Lily, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“Get…hurt?” I blink at her like an imbecile.
“I’m just going to spell this out for you, since you obviously need me to.” She leans forward and places her elbows on the table, those intense eyes of hers never leaving my face. “I have no idea why Jackson asked me to the prom, but it’s definitely not because he’s harboring some secret crush on me, you understand?”
“I—”
She cuts off my feeble protest with a wave of her manicured hand.
“And I said yes because that’s what you do when you’re the new girl and the hunky football player asks you to the dance. I don’t make the rules, but I have to play along if I want to make friends at this shit hole of a school.” Her eyes narrow, turning almost contemplative as they land on my face. “Friends like…you, for example.”
I don’t know what to say. I swear the English language feels foreign and unrecognizable. Words rest on my tongue, but no matter what I do, I can’t get them to escape.