AGAIN (Underground Flames)

Chapter Eighteen

(Flashback continued...)

...

-=Dale's POV=-

I was upside down on the couch, my legs hanging over the backrest like a limp scarecrow and my phone resting on my stomach. Max was in her usual spot: the floor, surrounded by open chip bags like a raccoon that had gone to college. Jet was slouched on a chair by the study table, beer in one hand and notes in the other, like she couldn't decide if she was cramming for a test or summoning the courage to fail it.

"So." Max crunched down on a nacho. "I saw your guy."

I blinked. "What guy?"

Jet perked up. "Oh no."

"Tall. Broody. Talks like he chews glass for fun? That guy." Max licked her fingers. "He was with a girl. At the dorm beside ours. You know. The one where all the engineering kids go to cry."

My stomach made a noise. Not hunger. Panic? Indigestion?

"Are you sure it was him?" I asked.

"Unless there's another Red roaming around like an angry panther? Yes. And I saw him smile. Like, actually smile." Max squinted at me. "Do you know her?"

Ellie.

"No." I sat up. My hair probably looked like a spider colony. "What'd she look like?"

"Hot. Mysterious. Could probably kill me with a calculator."

Jet was already tapping away on her phone.

"I can't find her Insta. I have a friend at that dorm, though. I'll go ask him later."

Max leaned over to peer at me. "Sooo. If your Boy Plan A is off brooding with another barbie... do we need a Plan B?"

"Plan B?" I blinked.

"Yes, Plan B. A backup guy. You are still in the Kiss Bet Olympics, right?"

"Oh." I blinked harder. "I guess?"

Jet tilted his head. "You guess?"

"I mean, it's not like I planned to actually win-win," I said, flopping back on the couch.

Jet rolled his eyes. "Well if you want to keep your sticker pads and gummy stash, you better find a new player for your fake romance drama."

That made me freeze.

My sticker pads. My pastel cats and motivational sloths. My limited-edition strawberry-scented washi tapes. The idea of giving them up physically hurt. I'd even hidden my favorite stash behind my psych textbook just so no one would touch them. Losing them in this ridiculous bet? No. That would be tragic.

"I don't do drama," I muttered weakly.

"Right," Jet said, deadpan. "That's why your boy is now allegedly dating a femme fatale from Thermodynamics."

"I don't even know what thermodynamics is!" I wailed.

"That's the spirit," Max said cheerfully.

Jet grinned. "She's too pure for this. Look at her, mourning stickers like it's a funeral."

"I'm not mourning," I said. "I'm... pre-grieving. It's different."

They laughed, and despite the slight sting, I laughed too. Maybe a Plan B wasn't such a terrible idea.

–

Alden spotted me balancing two paper cups of iced tea with a plate of fish and chips on top.