She's Such A Nerd

7: That Feeling

7: That Feeling

I hate this feeling. Feeling like I could have possibly made a mistake. That, out of all the choices I had, I picked the wrong one. This treacherous, depressing feeling also feels accurate. Walking into English on Monday is nerve-wracking. Jake doesn't even glance at me. No witty comments, just silence comes from him. Odd? Maybe, maybe not. I take my seat next to him, feeling extremely awkward and uncomfortable. I just have to make it through this period. Mrs. Kelley tells us that we have the majority of the class period to work on our projects, as usual, and that she'll walk around to make sure we have our topics picked out. Joy.

Since Jake didn't come over like he said he would, I had to come up with the topic myself. Not that I mind. I'd rather do it myself anyways. Being the chicken I am, I told Jake not to come over and that I'd pick one myself. I didn't want to really talk to him. He was pretty upset after I told him no. Our at least he seemed so. I don't know if that's how he actually felt. I feel like I shouldn't care. I felt bad for practically telling him I didn't want to be his girlfriend, but he already made the decision to be my fake boyfriend. He didn't expect me just to say yes immediately, did he? I mean, I hardly know him. It wasn't worth the risk.

I take out a piece of paper and start writing my essay. Annoyingly, Jake just pulls his phone back out and texts. Whatever. I don't care anymore. After a little while, Mrs. Kelley comes by. Managing to slide his phone in his pocket second before Mrs. K reaches our table, Jake leans closer to me to make it look like we're both working. No way. That little-

"What have you two decided on?" Mrs. Kelley smiles, and I force myself smile back and forget what the imbecile next to me is trying to play.

Before Jake can speak up, I jump in. "It's about literature." The teacher looks at me thoughtfully before replying with: "Interesting. I'm looking forward to your presentation." She smiles and moves on to the next table.

As I continue writing the essay, Jake decides to voice his input. "I believe I didn't agree to 'literature'." I roll my eyes. "Why wasn't I told about this decision?"

Still writing, I say, "I know. I figured since I'd be doing this on my own, I could pick a topic I knew I'd enjoy writing about and presenting."

"Hey." I look up. He's a little too close for my liking, but I ignore it. "You're not doing it on your own, and we both have to present it."

My reply is somewhat sarcastic. "Whatever." I keep writing. I can tell he's irritated, but he thankfully doesn't say anything.

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The rest of the week passes by fairly quickly, but the feeling doesn't go away. It decided to continue to make me feel miserable up until Friday. I'm thankful that it's gone and I head home feeling somewhat happy. Humming, I walk into the kitchen to find Maria squinting at a recipe and ingredients strewn across the countertops. Raising an eyebrow, I ask, "Making something?"

She smiles. "Just trying out a new recipe." Looking at what she already has out, I can guess what she's making.

"Cake or cupcakes?" I take a peek at the recipe to see she's making cupcakes. It's not surprising. If there's one thing to know about Maria, it's that she loves making sweets. I remember coming home from school every Friday and making cookies with her. It's not as often, but I still love to come home and help make a sweet treat. "Can I help?"

"Of course you can, sweetie. Why don't you start on the frosting and I'll get these into the oven?" I do what she says and get out a bowl. Maria taught me to make a good homemade frosting when I was about 9 or 10 years old. Decorating is one of my favorite things about making cupcakes (and cakes, too). It takes some practice, but I've gotten pretty good at it.

Almost an hour and a half and two batches of cupcakes later, we finally finish. I love baking, but it's time-consuming. When Maria asks if I want something for dinner, I look at the clock. It's almost six o' clock. I shake my head, tell her thanks anyways, and head up to my room. After changing out of my now dirty clothes, I sit down at my desk and get on my laptop. Not even a few minutes after being online, I receive a message on Facebook. Looking at the sender, I sigh. What does Jake want now?

Jake: What are you doing tomorrow?

I stare at the message for about a minute, wondering why he's asking. After typing my response, I get a reply almost immediately.

Emaline: I don't think I'm doing anything. Why?

Jake: I want to help work on the project. I'll be over at about one-ish. That okay?

I can't help but think 'invite yourself over, why don't you?'

Emaline: That's fine.

Jake: Cool. See you.

I don't even bother to respond. With another sigh, I close my laptop.