You Say It First - Katie Cotugno Page 0,67
he had to be at work at seven a.m. “Not yet.”
“You probably need to get back to him, right? If you’re going to do it?”
Colby frowned. This wasn’t the first time she’d asked, actually—always like the thought had just occurred to her, her tone always just a little too casual. He almost wished he hadn’t told her about it in the first place. “Who says I’m going to do it?” he asked.
Meg paused at that, infinitesimally. “I mean, you did, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t, actually.”
“I—okay,” she said, her voice hardening. “Whatever. You don’t have to get defensive about it. I’m just asking.”
“Are you, though?”
“What’s that mean?”
“I mean, I’m just saying.” Colby sat up in the grass and pulled his knees up, rocking forward a little and raking his free hand through his hair. “Do you want me to get this job for me, or do you want me to get this job because you don’t want me to come visit and have to tell your friends you’re messing around with a guy who works at Home Depot?”
Another pause, this one just long enough for Colby to realize that was more or less 100 percent the wrong way to put it. Sure enough: “Is that what we’re doing?” Meg asked—her consonants getting crisp like they always did when her hackles were raised, like she wanted to remind him just how educated she actually was. “Messing around?”
Colby exhaled. “Don’t do that,” he said, sliding a hand down over his face.
“Do what?”
“Try to make this conversation about something other than what it’s about. I just meant—”
“I know what you meant, Colby. I’m just trying to clarify the terms, that’s all.”
“Meg,” Colby said, though it came out more like he was sighing at her. “Come on.”
“You come on,” Meg snapped. “Is that what you think of me, seriously? That’s how shallow I seem to you?”
“It’s not about being shallow,” he tried. “I’m just saying that kind of stuff matters to—”
“You’re making me sound like this huge monster who’s obsessed with appearances.”
“You are obsessed with appearances!”
“Wow.” Her voice was flat. “Okay. Screw you, Colby.”
Shit. “Meg,” he said again. “Wait. I’m sorry. That came out wrong.”
Meg blew a breath out. “Why are you picking a fight with me right now?”
Colby felt himself bristle. “I’m not picking a fight with you,” he protested. “I’m just—”
“You are, though,” she interrupted. “Which sucks, because I literally just invited you to this wedding, and now I’m actually kind of thinking maybe it’s about the wedding, which, like—”
“It’s not,” he said, though suddenly he wasn’t totally sure if that was the truth. Hadn’t he just been wondering if there was a way to get out of it, in the back of his secret brain? “It’s not.”
“Then what’s it about?” Meg asked, sounding wounded. “I don’t care what you do, Colby. Take the job or don’t take the job; I won’t bring it up again. I just want you to be happy. Like, actually, honestly, sincerely happy. Whatever you might think.”
Colby was silent for a moment, staring out at the darkened tree line. He wanted to believe her, but he didn’t know if he did. Even if she thought she meant it, what exactly was going to happen when her bossy friend Emily found out he’d barely graduated high school? What was going to happen when this whole thing inevitably crashed and burned?
Still, though. Still.
Colby flopped back onto the grass so hard he winced, his ribs protesting. Just for a moment, he’d forgotten his whole body was bruised. “I don’t think we’re messing around,” he admitted finally, his voice barely more than a mumble. Tris, sleeping fitfully now, grumbled quietly at his side. “At least, I don’t think that’s all we’re doing.”
Meg cackled a sound that wasn’t a laugh, not really. “Oh no?”
“No,” he said, swallowing the fear down. “I don’t.”
“Then what are we doing?”
“You tell me.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s not how this works, Colby.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s not!”
“That doesn’t sound very feminist of you.”
“Oh my God. I’m hanging up.”
“Meg—”
“No, I am, because—”
“Meg—”
“I don’t know what your problem is tonight, but—”
“Meg!”
“What?”
“You want to be my girlfriend?” he heard himself blurt.
Meg didn’t answer for a moment. Colby could picture her, the way she pulled at her bottom lip when she was thinking about something. “Do you want me to be your girlfriend?” she finally asked.
“I wouldn’t be asking you if I didn’t.”
Another pause. Then, more quietly: “Okay.”
Something turned over in Colby’s chest, surprised, though honestly he wouldn’t have asked her to begin with unless he’d been reasonably