Candy Gram ✓

chapter six

What's the most embarrassing thing you've ever done? he asks me, hours after supper.

I don't get embarrassed, I say.

Lies.

Totally. My eyes are tired, and my face hurts, I've been smiling so much. I almost fell in a pile of horse crap when we went to the Laura Ingalls Wilder homestead thing. I wait for his response.

I threw up on Valentine's day last year. At Sirina MacLellan's party.

Did Josiah go to that party? Did Edward? It wouldn't surprise me if Josiah had - Sirina sits with us at lunch. She's got a girlfriend; the both of them are always dressed up in stretch pants and loose, cropped sweatshirts. It looks comfy, for sure, but I couldn't see myself wearing that. I'm loose pants and T-shirts all the way.

I'm absolutely losing myself in conversation to this boy. Seriously - when my dad opens my bedroom door and pokes his head inside to tell me it's time to go to bed, I barely have time to act like I've not been on my phone for the past five hours - I tear open Pride and Prejudice on my bedside table and try to act completely invested.

"Bedtime, kiddo," he says, smiling easily and turning on my fan. I've always - and will probably always be - "kiddo" to him. Just like Ben's my "dude", when I think about it.

"Alright," I say, looking up once before looking back to the page and pretending to finish off one of the familiar paragraphs. "I'll shower tomorrow."

He bites the inside of his cheek. I don't know if I ever do that, and, if I do, is it that obvious? Mom used to say I could never go to Vegas - that I'd definitely get shot. I have too many physical tells - which I think is crazy. I'm an actor. A good one, apparently, at least according to the one-act awards on my wall.

"I don't know if there'll even be school tomorrow," he says, casting a short look to my window. I eye it for just a moment, though it's not like I can really see anything; the curtain is pulled back by one of my surprisingly-cold hands to reveal snow that has drifted up over the hood of the Subaru.

Well, then.

For a second, I'm thinking, Well, that future shower was for nothing. Then, I guess I can stay up all night texting Secret Guy. . . .

Then: Oh. I won't get to meet him tomorrow.

Everything sucks. Sucks, sucks, sucks.

"Welp," I say, "guess it's time to hit the hay, then." Because I'm inconspicuous like that.

He eyes me levelly. My dad is a deadpan master. I wish it were genetic. "Yes. Yes it is."

"Night, Dad." I feel so fake, but he doesn't seem to be able to tell.

"Night, kiddo. Go hug your ma." (Which I do. With no shame - she's my mom.)

Sitting in my bed, with a fresh face and just sweatpants, I'm staring at my phone. Finally, I ask Secret Guy, Do you think that we'll have school tomorrow?

Yes, he says immediately. God I hope so. My whole SURPRISE. I don't want to keep you waiting another day, lol

Honestly, this is probably the first time I've ever hoped for there to be school.

Same here, he admits.

He starts typing. My heart starts thumping.

Can I call you?

I think about it for a moment. About how I'm cold, it's late, I'm shirtless, it's late - seriously - and my family is all in bed. And how jazzed he's been about his big surprise. I think this is probably just an eleven-P.M. moment of weakness on his part.