I lean back, crossing my arms, shifting uncomfortably, not wanting to admit to anything. “You’re saying what, exactly?”
“I’m saying,” he replies carefully, “that whatever’s happening to her isn’t random.”
I force myself to scoff. “You’re reading too much into it.”
“You always say that,” he counters. “Right before admitting I was right.”
I open my mouth to argue?—
—and stop.
Because underneath the irritation, underneath the defensiveness, there’s something else gnawing at me. Something I haven’t wanted to name since the first day I walked into the café and she pounced on me like she wasn’t afraid of anything.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and exhale hard through my mouth.
This is bullshit. Finn’s checked out – he’s barely even pretending anymore. I’m the only one actually playing this game and taking the bet seriously. Finn’s distracted. Gone soft. And now she’s here, in our space, and it’s going to wreck everything.
This summer was meant to be fun. A game. A challenge. Something to keep things interesting. Not whateverthisis turning into.
The silence stretches.
Then Koa says quietly, “Maybe we should call it off.”
I bark out a laugh. “Absolutely not.”
“The bet,” he clarifies – even though I know exactly what he means. “All of it. Before it gets messier.”
“And why would we do that?” I ask. “Because you’ve suddenly grown a conscience?”
“Because she’s not part of this,” he says. “And she shouldn’t be collateral damage.”
I still. Slowly turn back to him.
“You like her.”
It’s not a question.
Koa doesn’t immediately answer, which is answer enough.
“I haven’t had a chance to get to know her,” he says carefully. “But there’s…something there.”
I snort. “You’ve known her, what – two days?”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“It does when you’re talking like this,” I fire back. “You’re projecting. You always do. You see something shiny and convince yourself it means more.”
His eyes flash. “That’s rich, coming from you.”
“Oh please,” I say. “I know exactly what I am. I don’t pretend it’s destiny every time someone looks at me twice.”
“That’s not what this is.”
“Then what is it?” I challenge.
He hesitates.
“I think she’smyomega,” he says finally.