Roberta’s entire mood changes by the time I finish telling her about the bet and that I’d shown up at their dorm room to come clean. “And if I tell her about the bet now, she’ll probably think I only want to be with her to win it.”
“Shit,” Roberta sighs.
“Exactly. Deep shit. But maybe, if you tell her about it, she’ll believe that I don’t care about the bet.”
“Why not just call it off?”
“Are you kidding me? Peyton will have my nuts in a vice if I do. The first thing he’ll do is threaten to tell Meghan about it. No. Meghan needs to know first.”
“I’ll tell her but I can’t guarantee it will do any good.”
“Whatever happens happens. Just let her know, I’ll wait for her. Forever if I have to.”
With the return of the sad-puppy eyes, Roberta’s bottom lip juts out as she lets out a long, sympathetic, “Aww.”
“We have a home game this weekend. Besides that, and classes, I’ll be at my apartment. If it takes her longer than that to decide what to do with me…” I don’t know how I’ll survive waiting for her but I’ll do it. The way I feel about Meghan? I’ve never felt anything like it before. I can’t imagine loving anyone else this way.
“We’ll figure it out.” Roberta reaches across the table and pats my hand.
“Thanks for doing this. I owe you.”
“Big time.”
Chapter nine
Meghan
Mybrain’sbeenonautopilot since Roberta told me about the bet Trent made with Peyton Fredricks. Not even three cups of my favorite coffee from the student union is helping me focus on my engineering assignment. The one I’ve already spent the one extension I’m allowed this semester and is due on Monday.
This is exactly why I’ve avoided catching feelings for anyone. I knew it would get in the way of my schoolwork.
As I highlight and delete the answer to another question, second-guessing all of my life choices, a group of three guys dressed in Bobcat purple and gold come roaring into the near-abandoned common area.
I can’t help eavesdropping on their conversation when the one with a bobcat pawprint painted on his chest and an earbud in his right ear says, “I don’t even know why we’re going. Brewer’s playing like shit. Not even halfway through the first quarter and he’s missed half of Fredricks’ passes.”
My stomach twists into a tight knot.
That’s not like Trent. I can’t help wondering if it’s my fault he’s not playing well.
Maybe Roberta was right. Trent’s really torn up over losing his shot with me.
A sadistic part of me is glad I’m not the only one suffering. I wouldn’t feel so bad if only Trent was the one affected. But it’s not fair that the whole school should suffer because I refused to listen when he tried explaining the bet to me.
“Oh, shit!” The guy with the earbud shouts from the other side of the cafeteria now. “Brewer’s hurt. They’re walking him off the field.”
My heart leaps into my throat. I only half-listen to the rest of their conversation as I hurriedly shove my laptop and notebooks into my backpack.
“Did he at least complete the pass?” A guy in purple and gold striped overalls asks.
I make a note to hate that guy later. Can’t yell at him now. In case it’s his car they’re taking to the game.
“No,” Earbud guy says.
“They should have benched his ass. What if he’s out the rest of the season now?” The third guy says.
“Who cares if he plays like he did tonight?” Overall guy says, eyeing me curiously over earbud guy’s shoulder as I approach.
“You guys still going to the game?” I ask, working to hide my ire.