Carter Ortese is Trouble - completed (The Boys #1)

Chapter 10: Emma

When Monday rolls around, I want to tear out my hair. Between my parents screaming at me for being five minutes past curfew on Friday and them stacking on some more "light reading" to my weekend schedule, my brain feels like it will explode. The pain is so sharp that lightning shoots out of my temple and straight into the rest of my brain. Every time I take a step, another bolt slashes through me.

I rest with my head against the cool concrete wall above the water fountain, debating if I can take any more ibuprofen. I'm already at higher than the recommended dose, but the pain is constant, and my right eye waters from the intensity.

I had asked Mom if I could stay home this morning, and she said, "If you can't handle going on dates with boys and all your academics, then you shouldn't be going on dates with boys."

Pushing myself off the wall takes effort. I'm in a daze, and everyone in the hallway is faceless. I lean over the water fountain, both hands gripping the sides. I force myself to down a half gallon of ice cold water. It floods my stomach, but does nothing to ease the throbbing in my head.

When I stand up straight, I catch sight of Carter ducking into his fourth period class. We're in the art wing, where my school also sticks Latin, because who in their right mind would take Latin?

People forced to by their parents, that's who.

Seeing Carter makes my brain rage harder. I shouldn't be annoyed, and I shouldn't care, but I do. He hasn't called, hasn't texted, hasn't tried to get my attention at all since our date. Our date that, despite all odds, went surprisingly well. I actually enjoyed hanging out with him, and a part of me wants to do it again.

Pressing my eyes shut, I realize I'm being ridiculous. I never gave him my number, so how would he have any idea how to contact me? Fighting against the headache, I stumble to my class. Only ninety minutes until lunch. Two more classes, and then I can try to eat something. Maybe eating will help.

If the pain lessens, I can talk to Carter. I don't want to play games; I have enough of those in my life. Either he likes me, or he doesn't, and I want to know which it is.

I want to kick the part of my brain that is hoping he wants to be with me too, because he's still Carter Ortese. Nothing has changed. Except ... it has.

- - - - -

"What is wrong with you?" Stacy asks as I slide into my lunch seat with an unappetizing salad in front of me. The cafeteria is bustling with noise, and I fight the urge to wince.

I know I look like a wreck. My right eye is watering so bad, it looks like I snorted pollen. The headache is so thick, I am wading through pain, barely surviving. And I have to go home and listen to my parents yell about how I can't handle dating. I'm not ready, I'm not good enough, and nothing I do will ever matter to them.

I pick up a piece of limp lettuce that drips with Italian dressing. The leafy green slops off the fork and lands back on the paper plate. So much for eating. I push the entire tray away from me.

"Oh my god, are you pregnant?" Stacy twirls a lock of blonde hair around her finger. She widens her eyes and looks me up and down, as if I would start showing over the weekend.

"Headache," I grumble, leaning forward.

"Even if she were, do you think she'd admit it?" Britt winks at me. "How was the date?"

I breathe out. "Fine. It was fine."

"Fine? That's all we get?" Stacy rolls her eyes and stabs a fork into her salad. She spears a carrot.

Mika squeezes my hand. "Stacy, give it a rest. She clearly isn't feeling well."

"She can tell us more than fine."