Chapter Five

Soon turns out to be two days later. I’ve just left my computer class, and I’m headed for the dining hall to grab lunch when a familiar voice behind me says, “Hey there, cutie.”

Caught off guard, I whirl to face Eve—I would recognize her voice anywhere—and nearly lose my balance, but she reaches out to grab my hand, steadying me physically but setting off a whole host of unsteady reactions inside.

“Sorry,” she says around a soft laugh. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

I shake my head. “It’s not hard to do,” I admit. “I have a very advanced startle reflex.”

Eve grins. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She glances over my shoulder. “Headed to lunch?”

I nod, but before I can do something rash like invite her to eat with me, she beats me to the punch. “I wish I could stay and eat with you, but I have back-to-back classes today. But listen, I wanted to text you yesterday.” She digs into her back pocket and brings out her phone. “But I realized I don’t have your number. Would you…”

“Oh. Of course!” I grab her phone and enter my number, willing my fingers not to tremble so much. When I hand it back, Eve claims my hand and squeezes it.

“I’ll see you soon,” she says, shooting another megawatt grin and jogging away to class.

If this is what the dating life is like—feeling unbalanced and like I could either float away or combust where I stand—maybe I should go back to spending all my free time with computers. At least they don’t give me any surprises I can’t handle.

Inside the dining hall, I’ve just picked up a sandwich when someone calls my name. Seems I’m Miss Popularity today.

I glance over just as Mo catches up and falls in line beside me. “Mind if I eat with you?”

I mostly see Mo in her tennis clothes, but today she’s just in jeans and a school T-shirt, one I haven’t seen before that has tennis rackets and balls tumbling through the Tornadoes logo, like something out of a bad sci-fi movie.

“Not at all.” I add a banana to my tray. “Cute shirt, by the way. How are things?”

“Busy.” She follows me through the line, loading up with a premade chicken salad, a bowl of fruit, and a bottle of water while she talks. “We’ve had matches every weekend, practice every day, and I’ve been having to cram classwork in around all of that. I’ve been mostly just grabbing things here and taking them back to my room to eat, but I had time today. And I’m glad I found you because I needed to ask you something anyway.”

I finish filling my own tray with my usual root beer and turn toward the tables. “Ask away.”

Mo leads the way to a table in the corner, a little separated from the rest of the room, and we sit across from each other. She pops open her salad and tears open the packet of dressing.

“So,” she says while the dressing dribbles out over the slightly wilted lettuce, “you’ve been fixing computers and phones and stuff for, what, almost two years now?”

I shrug a shoulder. “A year and a half, I guess. I started a few months into freshman year when one of my English classmates thought she’d lost her midterm essay. Turned out she’d just saved it onto the wrong drive and didn’t know how to find it. But I got her folders straightened out and she told some other people, and they asked me for help… It just kind of kept growing.”

Mo nodded. “Great. Have you considered turning it into a real business?”

I frown at her and pick up half of my sandwich. It’s crossed my mind once or twice, but never as something I could actually do. “Like…open a store or something?”

“No, you don’t need to change how you do things. Not now, anyway. But you could, like, set up a website. Offer basic tech support online. Print up business cards with your email address so people can make appointments for repairs.”

All my current repair work comes through word of mouth. A classmate’s friend’s girlfriend messed up her phone? A TA’s laptop keeps overheating? My name is dropped and they come to me. Repeat clients are not that rare, either. Some people really don’t get along with technology. Setting up a website would make it easier for people to share and win me more clients, though.

“I guess so.” I shrug. “But all that takes time that I could be using to fix more computers. Or do homework.” Or go out with Eve.

Mo grins. “Well, I can solve that part,” she says. “I just so happen to have a project coming up in my marketing class where I have to put together some promotions for a business. I could use your business for my project, and then you get the benefits without having to spend time on it. Or money.”

“Sure. Sounds like a good idea.” I grin for a second. “Especially the part where you’re the one doing the work.”

Mo laughs. “Great!” She digs back into her salad. “I’ll come up with some ideas, send you an email. And really, it’ll all be test stuff. You don’t have to use any of it if you don’t want to.”

I shake my head. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. Considering I don’t have anything like that at all now.”

Mo chews her mouthful of salad and swallows. “So what’s going on with you? I haven’t talked to you in a few days. Any big news to share?”

I hesitate and then figure, why not? Mo will understand. “I kind of…had a date over the weekend.”

Mo sits up straight at that. “For real? Who was it?”

My cheeks heat, and I dip my head.

“Mmm-hmm.” Mo takes a sip of water. “Someone I know?”

I look up to find her grinning at me, but her eyes are teasing, not mocking. “Mayyyyybe.” I glance around to be sure no one is listening. “Maybe a certain softball player.”

Her mouth drops open. “You…” She leans in to whisper. “Are you dating Eve Frederick?”

A giggle escapes before I can stop it. “You make it sound like such a big scandal.”

Mo gives me a wicked grin. “Might be. Depends on what you mean by dating.”

I bite my bottom lip. “Dinner, so far,” I tell her. “I wasn’t even sure it was a date at first. But she even hinted at a second date.”

Mo leans back. “Interesting.” She sticks her fork into a piece of pineapple. “Nothing physical at all?”

I reach for my root beer. “Not unless a kiss on the cheek counts.”

Mo snorts around the pineapple. “Barely.” She swallows. “When are you seeing her again?”

“No idea.” I pick out a bruised piece of cantaloupe and deposit it on the side of my plate. “Haven’t talked specifics yet.”

“Well.” Mo spears another forkful of salad. “I think you should go for it. Have all the fun you can. Just don’t get in too deep too fast.”

I sigh. “I know, I know. Eve is into casual. Or that’s what they say.”

“Love ’em and leave ’em,” Mo confirms. “Only without the love part, unless it’s in the metaphorical sense.”

I shrug. “I don’t put much stock into gossip. And even if it’s all true, there’s nothing wrong with dating around.”

Mo nods her agreement. “If that’s what everyone involved expects out of it, sure.”

I sigh and pick at the crust of my bread. “I didn’t expect this at all, so I have no idea what I want.” I shake my head. “If nothing else, it’ll be good practice for future relationships. Right?”

“Absolutely.” Mo leans in again. “Might as well get all the hands-on experience you can while you can, right?”

She winks, and my cheeks heat at the implication. “Stop it.” I throw a grape at her. “No more talking about my hypothetical love life. When are you going to get a love life we can talk about?”

Mo rolls her eyes and digs back into her salad. “At the rate things are going? After I graduate. Be glad you aren’t playing tennis. I swear, Coach must’ve been a drill sergeant in another lifetime. Hard-ass doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

I laugh and let her go on ranting, happy to push aside my nerves about seeing Eve again. I’ll have to deal with all that soon enough.

After lunch, I’m headed back over to the science building when my phone buzzes. I yank it out of my pocket, expecting the message to be from Grant, but it’s from an unfamiliar number.

Hi, it’s Eve.

I stop in my tracks.

What I wanted to text yesterday is that I had fun at dinner. And I’d like to see you again sometime. The team is on the road this weekend, but maybe next week?

I have to read the words twice to convince myself she’s really asking me out again. Holy crapdoodle. I have no freaking idea how to respond, at first. My heart races at the thought of going out on another date with Eve, not just because of the stress of getting ready, but because this would be a second date. What do you do on a second date? Are the expectations higher?

I take a breath before I spiral off into more questions. I just told Mo it would be good practice, right? Well, here’s my chance.

Before I can think better of it, I type out a response. I’d like that. How about a movie next Friday night?

I force myself to put the phone away and keep walking toward my next class, but the response comes back just as I get inside the building.

Perfect. I have to get to class, but I’ll text back later to make plans. xoxo

I stare at those four little characters at the end of the message for a good minute, drowning in the fizzy feeling they create inside my chest, before I can tear myself away. Logically, I know it’s just a common signoff and I shouldn’t put much stock in it, but it’s hard to tell that to the emotions tumbling through me. For once, the anticipation might be overcoming the anxiety.

Still—what universe is this where I’m actually dating one of the most popular girls on campus?

I make it into my class with seconds to spare before the professor starts the lecture, but my mind takes longer to get with the program. Unfortunately, today’s topic never distracts me enough from the thoughts whirling around my brain, and by the time the hour’s over and I’m free for the day, I’ve worked myself into a nice big ball of anxiety.

I dig out my phone yet again as I hurry back toward my dorm like a bear heading for hibernation, and I send out an SOS.

OMG I have another date. Freaking out here. Help!!

It takes a few minutes for Mo to respond, and when she does, I just blink at the screen in confusion for a few seconds.

Put on some workout clothes and meet me at the tennis courts.

What?

Don’t ask questions. I’ll see you in 20.

I have no idea what’s going on. She can’t expect me to play tennis. With her? I’m lucky I’m coordinated enough to walk and talk at the same time.

But it’s something to do other than obsess over my date. Which might be the point.

Begrudgingly, I follow Mo’s instructions.

…

“Annie girl!”

I lift a hand to acknowledge Mo’s greeting as I head for the open gate at the edge of the fence surrounding the courts. There are four courts in this grouping, one of three court areas on campus, and the only other person in sight is a woman facing down a ball machine on the one farthest away.

Good. Less likelihood of witnesses to my upcoming humiliation.

She greets me with a smile, as usual, and nods her approval at my sneakers, leggings, and long-sleeved T-shirt. I almost grabbed a hoodie on my way out, but it’s an unusually warm, sunny day for mid-February, even for Atlanta. I have my hair pulled up in a ponytail, but I can almost feel sweat breaking out across the back of my neck.

I hate sweating.

“Okay.” Mo bends down and picks up two rackets. “How much do you know about tennis?”

I shrug. “Rackets, balls, a net, and Serena Williams.”

“Not a bad start.” She holds out a racket. “Time for your first lesson.”

I look at the racket like it’s a viper. “You think you can teach me to hit a tennis ball?”

Mo lifts an eyebrow. “Have you tried to hit a tennis ball?”

I pause. “No.”

“Okay then. Give it a chance. Besides, if worst comes to worst, you learn that tennis isn’t the game for you.”

“If worst comes to worst, I send us both to the ER.”

Mo’s grin drops away, and she knocks the racket lightly against my leg. “Serious for a minute, girl. You have got to stop being so hard on yourself. Just because you aren’t some great athlete doesn’t mean you’re a bumbling mess.” She points the racket at me. “And besides—Eve knows you aren’t an athlete, and she likes you anyway.”

I drop my head and nod once. “I know. Bad habit. I’ll work on it.”

“Good.” She lifts the racket again. “Now. Let’s try this again.” She holds the racket, handle first. “We’ve established that you know what this thing is.”

I take it gingerly. “Yes, but I’ve never met one before.”

Mo laughs. “Well, shake hands with it.” She holds out her own racket by the handle. “Like this.”

I wrap my fingers around mine in as close an approximation as I can. “Hi, there, Mr. Racket,” I tell it. “Please don’t hurt me.”

Mo laughs again but then walks me through how to set up and tosses a ball my way. I’m not sure who’s more surprised when I actually hit the thing, me or Mo. The ball veers off to the right, nowhere near landing inside the court, but Mo pumps a fist anyway.

“Great job!” she calls as she jogs the few feet back toward me. “You’re a natural!”

I glare at the racket as if it had betrayed me. “This is all your fault,” I tell it.

Mo’s still grinning when she stops in front of me, hands on hips. “Seriously, girl. Not the best return ever, but you hit the ball and didn’t trip or lose your balance, which is more than a lot of people manage. Congratulations.”

I shift my glare to her. “I suppose that means you’re going to make me keep doing this.”

“Well, I don’t know.” She cocks her head to one side. “Are you sufficiently distracted?”

And…well, yeah. I haven’t thought about Eve or dating or anything like that for the past half hour. I’m not convinced that tennis is the game for me, but if it keeps the anxiety at bay…

I straighten up and wave the racket in a little circle. “All right, then. Let’s do this thing. What’s next?”

We hit balls back and forth for a while longer, and by the time Mo calls for a break, my arms and legs have the consistency of cooked pasta—wobbly and sticky with sweat. Yuck. She tosses me a bottle of water, and I suck down half of it without taking a breath.

“So,” she says, recapping her water and bending to drop it back into her bag. “What exactly do you need to know?”

I swallow my mouthful of water without sputtering, which I consider an accomplishment. “About dating? Everything.” I shake my head. “You know what I’m like. You lived with me for a whole year. If it weren’t for classes and food, I’d just stay in my room twenty-four seven.”

Mo leans against the fence. “You aren’t that bad. You’re out here, aren’t you?”

I snort a laugh. “Because you would’ve come and dragged me out otherwise.”

Mo tilts her head. “Fair point. But for real. It’s just another date. You’ve done it before and you can do it again.”

“But my clo—”

“Your clothes are fine. I know you have some shirts that aren’t T-shirts.”

“And what about my—”

“Your hair is gorgeous, and with that flawless, dewy skin, you don’t really need makeup.”

I roll my eyes. “Perfectly spotted, maybe.” I don’t have as many freckles as my brother, but I still have plenty.

“Perfectly porcelain with the perfectly adorable amount of freckles,” Mo retorts. “You should see all the crap I have to use to achieve this level of fabulous. You’re probably a soap-and-water girl, aren’t you?” When I shrug and nod in response, she sighs. “Well, we’ll get you some moisturizer with sunblock in it to be sure it stays perfect. Pink cheeks might be cute, but sunburns are no joke.”

“That is the truth.” I shudder at the memory of a few bad ones from childhood.

“Okay, wardrobe, makeup…” Mo waves a finger. “Movie! Pick something romantic, of course. But maybe not a romance-romance. Comedy? What do you like, anyway?”

“Anything but horror, which probably isn’t great for the first movie date anyway.” I dig my phone out of my pocket with the thought of maybe checking listings. “No idea what’s playing. Something action-y maybe?”

“Yeah. Definitely mainstream.” Mo waves a hand. “You can figure it out later. Suggest a couple of options and let her choose.”

“Okay.” I fiddle with the screen of my phone. “What else?”

“Welllll.” Mo grins. “There’s the question of what happens after the movie.”

Dammit. It’s like someone lit a match under my skin, overheating my cheeks.

Mo laughs, but it’s a friendly sound, not mocking. “So you don’t have to figure out every detail for sure,” she says. “But it’s a good idea to know where you want to draw the line.”

Now I’m confused. “I don’t…”

She shakes her head. “I mean, like, I assume kissing is okay?”

I nod at that one. That’s easy.

“What about more than that? Touching over the clothes? Under the clothes? All the way naked?”

I recoil at that one—not in disgust, but just overwhelmed at the thought. “Uh. I see what you mean.”

Mo smiles. “You don’t have to decide now. Heck, you don’t have to decide at all. You could totally just go with the flow. But I think for you, having a stopping point in mind would help. A lot.”

She’s not wrong. “I’ll take it under advisement.”

Mo nods once. “Okay then. We’ll get you some. Whatever some you decide you want.”

The only thing I want right now is to lose the damn blush. I’ve got to stop letting this stuff get to me like that.

“In the meantime…” Mo pushes off the fence and bends to grab her racket. “More distraction!”

“Can’t I just go back to hiding in my room?” I whine.

“Nope.” Mo points with her racket to mine. “C’mon. Ten more minutes and I’ll set you free.”

“I will be dead by then,” I tell her, but I pick up my racket and follow her back onto the court.