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himself how awesome he is. Trey Burrowes is a house of bricks balancing
on a toothpick.
Something brushes my calf, and I look down just in time to see Ten
crawling out from under the gaming booth. I move out of the way and push
Trey back, noticing that Ten holds something in his hand.
“I got a sword,” he says, waving the plastic inflatable in front of us.
Trey snickers. “Yeah, me, too.”
And I swallow the bad taste in my mouth at his crude joke.
He turns away, growing quiet, his attention immediately drawn up to the
Ferris wheel.
So easily distracted. So easily bored.
“Tell you what,” I say, speaking to Trey as I stroll over and hook an arm
through Ten’s. “I’ll let you take Ten home.”
Trey jerks his head over his shoulder, looking at me like I’m crazy.
“And then you can take me home,” I finish, seeing his eyebrow arch in
interest.
School ends in six weeks. I can fake this a while longer. I don’t want to
go out with him, but I don’t want to wake up tomorrow to a nasty rumor
that’s not true plastered all over Facebook, either. Trey Burrowes can be
nice, but he can be a real asshole, too.
A smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, and he turns back around.
“All you have to do is catch me,” I tell him, grabbing Ten’s hand. “So
count to twenty.”
“Make it five,” Ten jokes, backing away with me. “He doesn’t know
how to count to twenty.”
My stomach shakes with a laugh, but I hold it back.
Trey smirks, staring at me like I’m a meal he wants and nothing is going
to stop him. And then he opens his mouth, slowly stepping toward us.