Checkmate

24| Ballot day

For most of the night, my brain does that thing where it doesn't stop obsessing. I toss and turn, not because today's the day the ballot is announced, but because I can't stop imagining that kiss.

By the time my alarm sounds, I'm at the part where his fingers brushed my underwear, where bad Rose was ready to sacrifice good Rose for the fleeting yet wondrous feel of his hands in places they didn't belong. I allow myself a moment longer, tuning out the shrill-pitched bleep of my phone as I explore beyond the moment we'd stopped and into uncharted territory.

"Rose," Mom calls from downstairs, "breakfast!"

I sit up, flustered, and spend a few moments preparing myself for the day ahead. Obsessing over Blake on the same day as the ballot is not how I'd expected things to go. I need to stay focused, ready to face my victory with poise or defeat with grace, but being graceful and poised around Blake is impossible. Around him, I devolve into a mess.

Still, as I shower and dress, I can't help but wonder how he feels about last night, whether it kept him up too or if he's already moved on to loathing in self-hatred. The not knowing is the worst part, which makes the thought of having to see him later so nerve-wracking. As I lather in soap, I tell myself he wouldn't have kissed me if he didn't like me, nor would he have punched Chase. Those are the facts, but whether Blake is ready to admit that to himself is an entirely different story; I'm not exactly sure I'm prepared for that either.

At breakfast, Mom is on a mission to find out everything she can about my speech. I begin to suspect that she's heard about Angela, and maybe she's trying to catch me in a lie, but then she smiles so proudly that I know I'm just being paranoid. Having an ex and ex-best friend betray you will do that.

By the time I get to school, I'm not just obsessing – I'm in full-blown panic mode. What if Blake has already decided to quit? What if I have to find another campaign captain? It's not like a line of them is waiting at my door: Blake was my only hope.

I take a deep breath, exiting my car and walking toward the bikesheds like last night never happened. When I get there, he's leaning on the wall, as usual, surrounded by smoke. I bite my lip, trying not to focus on how good he looks in his jacket.

He looks up briefly. "Hey."

That's it, hey, as though he didn't have his tongue down my throat last night. I lean against the wall beside him, fanning the smoke away from my face, and say, "Hey yourself. How's your hand?" Without thinking, I grab it and examine the slight purpling of his knuckles. He tenses, and I drop it just as quickly, running my thumb along my bracelet instead.

"I'll live," he says. "Votes are announced today, right?"

"Yeah." I'm surprised he even remembered. "There isn't a set time, but we'll find out before the end of the day."

"And then what?" he asks. "What's the next step?"

"Well, if I make it onto the ballot, there's a debate between the candidates I'll have to prepare for. We'll have to prepare for." I add the last part to gauge his reaction, allowing him to announce his exit if that's what he's decided, but he doesn't.

"An argument you get to rehearse for," he says, mouth twitching, "sounds right up your street."

"Yes, that's usually what a debate is, Blake."

A grin stretches across his face as he lowers his vape. "We're prickly today."

He's right, I am being prickly, but I can't help it. Between waiting for the results and not knowing how Blake feels, I'm internally hyperventilating. "Look," I say when I can't take it any longer, "are we going to talk about last night? I don't want there to be any miscommunication or awkwardness. You know, because of the campaign."