How to Date the Guy You Hate by Julie Kriss Page 0,23

Marine anymore. She was starting to see that I wasn’t going to climb Everest while going to Yale and setting gold medal records at the same time.

I was going to do something. I had to figure that out. But it was going to be my idea, not hers. If only I knew what it was.

“Look,” I said to her. “I’m fine, okay? Stop worrying. I’m just doing the bouncer job to save up to move out.”

“There’s no rush,” she said quickly.

“There kind of is, since I’m twenty-four,” I said. “Oh, and I’m going to be away for a few days next weekend. Just so, you know, you don’t think I’m on a bender or something.”

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“I’m taking Megan Perry to a wedding.”

“Megan? Holly’s friend?” Her eyes lit up a little. Megan was the right kind of girl in her mind.

“It’s no big deal,” I said. “It’s a family wedding, and she doesn’t want to go alone, and I said I’d take her. It’s really nothing.”

But after Mom finally hugged me goodbye and left for work, I thought about that. No big deal. It wasn’t. Megan hated me, and I owed her a favor, that was all. But before I could stop myself I had pulled out my phone and was looking at my text messages.

I’d told her to text herself her address from my phone, and she had. But of course she’d also added a message. Dear Megan, you rule, I drool. Love, Jason. It was totally juvenile, completely childish. I’d laughed at it for ten minutes when I first saw it.

I texted her now. Are you at work?

It took her a few minutes to answer, but it came back: Yes.

When do you get off? I wrote.

Another pause. Six. Why?

No reason, I typed.

There was another pause. I knew she was on the other end, promising herself she wouldn’t answer me. But finally she gave in and a message came through: Are you asking me on a date?

Oh, this was good. I thought it over gleefully before I answered. Careful. Your skirt is riding up and your crush on me is showing.

The reply was immediate: Oh my God, you are such an asshole.

I laughed, grabbing my phone and heading upstairs to take a shower. She didn’t text me again. Not that morning, while I raided the fridge and watched TV, and not that afternoon, while I went grocery shopping and did yard work, prepping my mother’s back yard for fall. That was fine with me. I could wait.

But at ten after six, my phone buzzed. Right on time.

Fuck it, Megan wrote. Come over.

Ten

Megan

I had no idea why I did that. None at all.

But I put my phone down and crossed my arms so I wouldn’t pick it up again. I was standing in the kitchen of my apartment, fresh off my shift at Drug-Rite, looking at another evening alone with my thoughts. With my fears. I felt like I could jump out of my skin. I was alive with frustration, all of it skittering over the surface of my skin like electricity.

So, I chided myself. All Jason Carsleigh has to do is text you, and you give him a booty call.

Was that what that was? Was that how he would interpret it? Was that what I had meant?

I was lonely, and I wanted to talk to someone. Though if I was honest, I didn’t just want to talk to anyone. Not my dad, not Holly.

Jason.

It was because I’d left things unresolved the last time, I told myself. I hadn’t exactly been nice to him. We had some baggage, Jason and me, but I didn’t want him to think badly of me. We were going to have to spend five days together, after all.

And after my appointment with Dr. Pfeiffer a few days ago, I’d been locked in my thoughts, alone. Despite his annoying side, Jason had a way of dragging me out of my own head. Of making me think on my feet. Of almost—almost—making me laugh.

Your skirt is riding up and your crush on me is showing.

Maybe he was just being a dick. Maybe he was just trying to get a rise out of me for something to do. Maybe he’d come over here and expect to hang out and watch some stupid football game, friend-style. Maybe he wouldn’t come over at all. He hadn’t replied to my invitation.

I wanted to live in the moment, I reminded myself. And… I wanted to see him naked again.

I