idea of either of them with Benji felt all wrong.
Shaking my head, I said, “Guess I’ll think of something.”
“You could send him flowers,” she said. “I always love getting them. I don’t even care who they’re from. They just make me feel special.”
I didn’t know how Benji felt about flowers, but it was an interesting idea. A gift of some kind to make him feel appreciated. It couldn’t come from me, though. I could still hear Benji’s words from Friday night. A-plus for effort. He hadn’t believed I was sincere. If I sent him a gift, he’d just blow it off as a pity prize.
I wanted to make him smile. Help him see that he was more than worthy of attention.
If he wouldn’t believe in me, maybe he’d believe in someone else.
An anonymous someone else, like a … secret admirer.
Benji
Kaleb wasn’t looking at me. He sat, chewing the end of his pen, intensely focused on Professor Greene. A little too focused for it to be natural.
I’d chosen a seat at the back of the class, far from my usual spot in the second row. I wanted to avoid Kaleb at all costs, but it looked like he was attempting the same. He’d taken a spot in the front row, the better not to see me, perhaps? A braver person would probably confront him, but the very idea of it made me shake with nerves. I was relieved Kaleb was avoiding me. At least he wasn’t taunting me about it. I didn’t need him for that; my mind taunted me enough already.
I kept replaying that moment I stood outside the theater, eyes on the time, knowing he wasn’t going to show. And then Ace’s gentle pity, which felt horrible, because he was the last person I wanted to see just how low I fell on the cool spectrum. But he had seen. He’d been sweet and protective as usual. Very brotherly. Which was the last thing I wanted.
I sighed as the professor wrapped up his lecture and packed up my bag to leave. I’d never have what I really wanted from Ace, and I had to quit projecting that onto him. He was a good friend, and he always looked out for me. Now that I was here anyway. He hadn’t seemed to miss me much in the three years between his high school graduation and mine.
You’re just his friend’s kid brother. Don’t forget that.
As class was released, I checked my phone and winced at the stream of messages I’d ignored all weekend.
You’re his friend’s selfish kid brother, I amended. Ace deserves better.
I tapped out a quick response as I left the building. Just got out of class. I’m fine. Just feeling stupid.
His reply was swift. You’re not stupid; he’s stupid.
I laughed and rolled my eyes, even though Ace wasn’t there to see it. His quick defense was sweet, if not based in reality.
Shouldering my bag, I started the walk back to my dorm. Halfway there, Ace sent me another text.
Lunch?
I had planned to go back to my dorm room and crash after a mostly sleepless night, but I struggled with the reality that I could never say no to this guy. I guess I had to eat, so…
Yeah, sure. Where should I meet you?
My phone dinged again while I climbed the stairs to the second floor. My room was the third door on the right.
I’ll swing by your room.
I walked inside and dropped my bag near my small desk at the foot of my twin-size bed. The desk held my shiny silver laptop covered edge to edge in rainbow stickers — because pride — and a cup full of Sharpies and colored pencils. I kept my more expensive graphite pencils in a case in the drawer. Sharpies were fun for doodling, though, which meant my fingers were regularly stained with red, blue, and black ink.
I took half a step toward my bed, thinking I’d sit while I waited on Ace to appear, and stopped short. A small basket sat in the center of the mattress.
It caught my eye immediately because my bed was neatly made and I never tossed stuff onto it. Across the room, Dre’s bed was heaped with laundry. I swear my roommate slept on his own clothes, then rolled out of bed and pulled on a set. It was kinda gross and impressive at the same time. But my side of the room was always neat and tidy.
Taking a step forward, I peered into the basket. It