Caught Up

Chapter Four

Caught Up

Chapter Four

"Hey, sorry about this morning", Kaylin apologized once she picked up. Explaining my situation to her was long and embarrassing and had me genuinely questioning my intentions, but by the end of it, she was cool about the whole thing- well, kinda cool. Apparently, my "crush"- it was nonexistent, I swear- was very obvious. Damn.

"Kaylin", I whined. "Just leave it alone!"

Gasping (which hilariously enough sent her into a coughing fit), she ranted, "What did I tell you when I promised to drop the Connor thing-"

"Which you didn't!" I argued, cutting off her excuses. It was her right as my best friend to know my ass. She was just nosy.

She pouted, "Ana! Just tell me if you like him. I would tell you if it was me!"

"He's cute is all", I mumbled. It was the sort of the truth, but Duke Whittemore was more than cute. He was hott (so hot that you have to spell it with two t's), and I would get with that anyday. Plus, it was sexy how badass and uncaring he was. I've always had a small thing for bad boys- no big deal.

"Yeah, okay, sure. I'll text Dawson and ask him for the number, but it'll probably get me in trouble so you owe me", Kaylin bargained. I rolled my eyes, but it didn't really bother me that she always wanted to know the details of my life. At least I knew she cared.

"Thanks, Kay. Just text me with it? Love you", I said sweetly.

"Yeah, yeah. Love you, too." Then she hang up. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is Kaylin Daniels. Isn't she sweet?

My fat ass was raiding the refrigerator when I heard my phone vibrate against the granite of the counter. With a piece of cold pizza dangling from my mouth, I spun around, eyeing the device but too afraid to go look at it. What if she actually got his number? What if she didn't? Did he not have a phone? Did he just not want me to have his number? Oh, what the hell?

Grabbing it eagerly in my hands, I stared at the message on the screen with my heart pounding.

5:38 p.m.

From: Kay

501-345-8795.

I didn't know if I was relieved or terrified. Quite a bit of me was hoping that he just wouldn't have a phone because then I would have an excuse to not contact him if that was the case, but my heart raced as I looked at the number on the lit-up cellphone. Do I text him? I don't want him to think I'm weird. Then again, I need to get this project done. Also, I was kind of scared to just go up and talk to him in person so maybe this would be easier.

Okay, breathe.

It's not that big of a deal. He's not even really that cute. Lies.

Taking a deep breath, I grabbed my phone before I could change my mind and typed his phone number into the address bar. Deleted it, and then typed it again. What's the worst thing that could happen?

He could ignore me, I groaned. Or tell me to fuck off.

Inhaling, I typed out a message that sounded chill enough and hit send quickly.

"Shit, shit, shit", I cursed, locking my phone screen and throwing it on the counter like it was diseased. What did I do?

Deep breaths. There's still a good chance that it's not even his number. I mean-

Woah, woah. Why am I freaking out over this anyways? I am Ana freaking Paxton, badass volleyball player, and Kaylin Watson's best friend. And who is he? Just some new guy. A really hot new guy. That doesn't care what anyone thinks of him. Which is also hot.