He taps his sneaker. “And?”

“And it worked out, just like Violet said.”

“So I was right.”

Jesus. “Violet was.”

“But also me.”

“Whatever.” I huff. “Fine, yes, you were right.”

“And?”

“And…what?”

“Why are you staring off into the goddamn crowd?”

I’m silent, working on the laces of my other shoe.

“Ohhh, I get it,” Daniels sing-songs. “She’s coming today, isn’t she?” I don’t reply, so he keeps talking. “Are you ready to throw up? Is it making you nervous?”

“Would you shut up?”

“I can’t. I’m basically your matchmaker now.”

“No you’re not.”

“Yes I am. Without me, she wouldn’t have gone out with you again.”

That’s probably true, but he’s annoying and I’ll never admit it to him. I just want him to walk away and leave me in peace so I can warm up and watch for Skylar.

“Does dickweed know yet?”

“Who?”

“Jack,” Zeke grits out impatiently. “JB, whatever the fuck you guys call him. Bartlett. Does he know you’re boning his online girlfriend?”

“No.”

“Well now you have another host of problems, don’t ya?” He looks smug and arrogant and oddly pleased at this new development in the saga. “You need my help.”

It’s not a question, but he’s looking way too hopeful for my taste.

“No!” I shake my head vigorously, the entire match I have ahead of me forgotten by the pair of us. “No. Fuck no. No way.”

Zeke examines his fingernails. “False. I think you do need my help.”

“Can we not do this now?” I’m worse off than I was five minutes ago, preparing to face off against our biggest rival in the conference. “This isn’t helping.”

“Your head is lodged so far up your ass anyway—I was sent over to remove it, by the way. Now that we know you’re still having lady problems, let’s fix it together. I’m into it.”

“We’re not in this together.”

His mouth says, “Ehhh,” but his body says, Oh but we are.

He needs to stop doing this to me; it’s giving me anxiety.

My eyes dart up to the stands, and as luck would have it, at that exact moment I find Skylar shimmying her way across the fourth or fifth row up, that sassy roommate of hers trailing behind. Poking Skylar in the ass then laughing. Toting a big red and white striped popcorn container then bending when it spills.

Jesus.

I observe it all from where I stand. Skylar’s hair is down, falling around her shoulders. Black t-shirt with the school’s yellow logo. Jeans. Sunglasses perched on top of her head. Black purse hanging from her shoulder, its gold chain shining under the bright lights.

Unfortunately, Zeke notices me noticing and snickers beside me. “You are in such deep shit.”

I glower as menacingly as I can, mimicking the glares I’ve seen him give more times than I can count on two hands.

He laughs—fucking laughs—head tipping back, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Oh you whipped little puppy. You should see your face right now—it’s priceless. Which one is she?”

“I’m not telling you which one she is.”

“Just point to her. I won’t make a scene.”

“No.”

“What color is her shirt?”

Idiot. “Yellow and black.” Just like the ten thousand other people in the stadium, most of which are wearing school colors, either Penn State blue or Iowa black and gold.

He stares off, dark obsidian eyes scanning the crowd. Then,

“The one with long brown hair? Blonde chick next to her?”

The fuckkkkkk… What is he, some kind of Houdini?

“I’m right, aren’t I? She’s got brown hair, and she’s in the parent section—right where I’d stick my new girlfriend—and her sidekick is a hot mess, am I right?”

“Shut up.”

He prattles on, “Oh! They see us!” Zeke’s arm goes up to wave. “How nice, the little blonde one is pointing over here and your girlfriend keeps slapping at her hand like you’re doing to me.” He grabs my limp arm by the wrist, creating a floppy salute. “Wave and say hello, shithead.”

“Put your goddamn hand down!”

“Relaxi taxi, bro.” I’ve never seen him this jovial, and it’s seriously wigging me the fuck out. “God, this shit is hilarious! Your girlfriend is freaking out at her friend, you’re freaking out at me—everyone is freaking out!” He makes a blahhhhhh sound and I want to sock him in the nuts so bad to make this end.

“And JB—or BJ as I’m going to start calling him—doesn’t have a damn clue.” He claps a hand on my back. “This is going to be such a fun day. I can’t wait to see how it ends.”

I swear to fucking God…

Zeke starts walking away. Stops. Pivots back around. Snaps his fingers, remembering something. “Oh, by the way—your dick looks super small in that singlet. Has anyone ever told you that?”

What.

A.

Douchebag.

Skylar

“Can’t you just walk in a straight line like everyone else? Do you have to talk to everyone on the way to our seats?”

“Yes I must. That was my old chemistry professor back there—it would have been rude not to say hello.”

Hannah gets too close and knocks me in the back—yet again—with the box of popcorn she insisted on getting.

“He had no idea who you were.”

“Professor Lewis? Are you kidding? He was thrilled to see me!”

“That was Professor Langley. He’s an English professor.”

“It was?”

“Yes.”

“Well no wonder he looked so confused!” She laughs, bumping into me.

No sooner do I say, “If you don’t freaking be careful you’re going to spill that,” than she spills half her popcorn, making a huge mess before we’ve even sat down. “Can we just sit? Please?” I plop down, patting the seat next to me.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” she gripes, as if I’m the one causing the commotion. Settles in. Eats. Stares down at the floor, where blue mats are set up and coaches and coaching staff loiter with clipboards, headsets, and serious expressions. “Your secret boyfriend sure looks mad. Who is that guy he’s arguing with?”

“I have no idea.” But Abe sure does seem angry about something.

“He looks like a giant asshole.”

“Who?”

“The guy with the black hair. Duh.”

Phew. I thought for a second she meant Abe and was about to get defensive. “I’m sure he is—he looks like a giant prick.”

“Whoa, Abe’s getting kind of feisty,” Hannah is saying between bites of popcorn. She’s shoveling it in with one hand like a bad meme. “Oh look, he’s waving!”

Before I can react—or grab the back of her shirt collar—Hannah pops back out of her seat, arm flapping in the breeze, waving down to the wrestling floor.