Sweetheart Single

20 | Fundraiser Foes

I pretend to be intensely interested in the ganache stain on my sweater. It keeps me from looking at the three faces in front of me: Harry, Shawn, and Jake.

I am not the type of girl that guys fight over. I've never wanted to be that type of girl. Not to mention, I'm bookish and awkward and very plain to look at. Zero fighting warranted. Still, something tells me all hell is about to break loose in Fig right now!

"Elle, are you okay? Can I get you anything?" Shawn asks, concerned.

"She said she's fine," Jake answers for me.

"How about tonic water for your sweater? Maybe another new shirt?" Harry grins through his messy hair.

Not the moment to drop an inside joke, Harry!

"She doesn't need a new shirt from you," Jake says, eye Harry suspiciously. "Don't you have to get back to your fan club?"

"Maybe we should let Elle speak," Shawn suggests.

"Elle?" Harry cocks his head.

I can see the realization dawn on all their faces at once –the shocking realization that they all like me. A certain realization hits me differently, by way of fear. What in the hell am I going to do?

"Really, I'm okay. Quick accident," I blush. "Clumsy me."

Jake pulls a chair out at the nearest table for me to sit. I feel like everyone thinks I'm a 5-year-old who's just scrapped her knee and is screaming bloody murder. Welp, no screaming. No blood. No murder. Yet.

"She doesn't need to sit," Nikki says with attitude, elbowing Jake out of the way. "She's not a child!"

"Here you are." Harry reappears, handing me a wet towel.

"Thanks," I mumble. I start dabbing at my sweater to give my hands something to do.

"I'm just glad for an excuse to leave the groupies," Harry jokes, glancing over his shoulder.

"Looks like Elle's the one with the groupies," Lucy says, grinning.

"Shut up," I hiss at her.

"Elle, why don't we get some air outside," Shawn asks. He's already reaching for my hand to pull me away.

"What is this all about? Do I need to take a number to talk to you?" Jake asks me, looking between Shawn and Harry.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Shawn asks, angrier than I've seen him in a long time. Judging from the way he's eyeing up Jake, Shawn does not expect Jake and I would ever even be friends. "Elle, are you talking to this guy?"

I wince a little at the way he says 'talking'.

"I –No. It's not like that. I mean –we're friends. And I'm friends with you." I look into Shawn's deep green eyes and feel helpless.

"I see, so you are friends with us both?" Shawn asks, nodding.

"I don't typically go around kissing friends," Jake says to me, but also for Shawn and Harry to hear.

"Oh, please," I sneer. Jake is king of kissing people for no reason. But still...

"Elle, what about Sunday?" Harry asks, frowning. It's crazy how little I've known him, but how already responsible I feel for his feelings. "You said there was no one in the picture–"

"Well," I start. "I don't have a boyfriend."

In unison, as if conducted by me, all three boys break into a cacophonous symphony. They name-call each other, throw me dirty looks, and completely ignore Brittany, who is trying her best to usher us onto the outdoor patio.