do it first.
“I like being close to you.” I opt for the direct approach. But instead of strategy, the confession feels uncomfortably like truth. “Do you?”
“Yes,” he says immediately. “I like it, too.”
Ha! I want to shout. Take that. “My plan’s working.” I fight to contain my glee. “You’re falling for me.”
“I’m what?”
“You want to kiss me. All I had to do was recite a laundry list of my clothes.”
“Right,” he says dryly. “Try that with anyone else and see how far it’ll get you.”
But I’m so giddy that the sarcasm falls right off me. I poke my finger into his chest. “I made my own bet with Kavya. And this means: I’ve won.”
His eyes narrow. “You know, you give up your best advantage in a bet by telling the other person about it.”
“But you told me about yours,” I protest.
“That was to keep you guessing.”
“That’s what I’m doing,” I retort. “Keeping you guessing.”
He stares at me for a long moment. And then he bursts out laughing. Any other time, I would’ve assumed he was making fun of me. But now, I actually think he finds me entertaining.
“Oh, Winnie. I don’t think you could keep anybody guessing. That’s what I like most about you. Your emotions are spelled out across your face all the time.”
“Oh yeah?” I ask, oddly defensive. “What am I feeling now?”
He grins. “You’re feeling that you’d really like to sit with me.”
He settles on the grass, near the base of the tree, and pats the dirt next to him. I squint. Even if I wanted to join him, my outfit’s not exactly appropriate.
Seeing my expression, he pats his lap. “This seat’s open if you’re worried about messing up your clothes.”
“No, thank you.” I lower myself to the ground, crossing my legs in front of me. That’s about the only way you can sit in this narrow skirt.
“You didn’t have any problem sitting on my lap the other day,” he points out.
“I made a monetary bet with Kavya,” I say loftily. “You’ve admitted you’re attracted to me. It doesn’t seem fair to use your attraction against you.”
He lifts his brows. “Since when did fairness enter into the equation? Besides, do you really think you can get me to fall for you without touching me?”
I let out a breath, insulted. Pretty sure both my body and my mind are crush-worthy. And I’m going to prove it to him. “Oh, I can definitely make you fall. Just look what happened last night. You could barely sleep, and all I did was send you a photo of a dress.”
He narrows his eyes. And then the moment shifts, as though a challenge has been issued—and accepted.
“I really like this outfit on you,” he says, his voice rumbly. “This color looks nice with your hair. And your skin.”
Ha. Does he really think I’m that naive? Surface-level compliments are the fakest form of flattery. I learned that in the first grade. Back then, I had no idea how to fit in with the other kids. No clue how to giggle and gossip and chase one another around the playground. The only “in” I had was through flattery. I like your socks! I like your stickers! I like your Band-Aid! (Which, in the first grade, is a bigger compliment than you might think.)
“Is that all you’ve got?” I toss my hair back. “I’m immune to compliments. Especially the fake ones.”
He smiles, and I can’t help but notice his teeth—and his lips. “As I was saying, pink suits you. But do you know what I really like?” He lowers his voice. “Your skirt with the cat heads printed all over it. I believe you wore it several times this last month. I wouldn’t mind if you wore it every day.”
I freeze. Because no one, absolutely no one—other than me—likes that skirt. Even Kavya doesn’t bother to pretend. I can’t believe he noticed either the print or the number of times I donned it. Let alone both.
With an effort, I swallow. “Now I know you’re making fun of me. You think the cat heads are ridiculous.”
“I do,” he admits. “Beyond the fact that it’s printed with heads, which is just creepy, you’re allergic to cats.”
“Exactly. These are the only cats I’m not allergic to.” I shake my head. “Honestly? You’re terrible at this game. I might as well collect my winnings from Kavya now.”
He leans back on his elbows. “The skirt may be ridiculous, but I like the way it looks on you. Sometimes, when you