The next morning, my alarm sounded too soon. I’d been up half the night studying for chemistry the next day. I finally crawled under my covers at two, only to be woken at six. I yawned and stretched out on my bed.

An excited feeling started in my stomach and exploded throughout my body.

I had a date with Tyson Blake.

Well, study date. But at this moment, I was going to revel in the thought that I had a planned event with Tyson. No matter the reason.

When my alarm sounded again, I turned it off and rolled out of bed. Once I was showered, I stood in front of my closet, trying to figure out what I was going to wear. A dress? Shorts? A skirt?

I groaned as I threw my last pick, a plaid, pleated skirt, onto my bed. Why was I stressing about this so much? In the past, I would have just thrown on my signature t-shirt and jeans. Would Tyson even care what I was wearing?

For some reason, our first time hanging out felt as if it should be special. I didn’t want to mess this up.

Twenty minutes later, I settled on a blue floral dress that I got last year for my Aunt Vivian’s wedding. After I slipped on a pair of strappy sandals, I grabbed my backpack and phone and headed downstairs.

Dad was up and making a huge plate of eggs. His eyes widened when he saw me.

Crap. My clothes were going to tip him off. Why had I decided to get dressed up? If he found out what was going on, this not-a-date would be over before it had even begun.

“Wow, Tiny. You look amazing,” he said as he dumped a spoonful of eggs onto a plate and handed it to me. Just as I reached out to take it, he tightened his grip. “Why do you look so nice? Are you trying to impress someone?”

I let out an exasperated groan. “Seriously, dad? No. What boy would ever want to date me?” This conversation with him was making me about as comfortable as when I was twelve and my dad sat me down to have the “so your body is changing” talk.

He narrowed his eyes. “You know why I don’t want you to date,” he said.

I sighed. “Yes. You don’t want me to lose focus on what’s really important.” He loosened his grasp on the plate and let me take it. “Trust me dad, that’s not going to happen.”

He nodded as he grabbed his plate and followed me to the table. “You say that, honey, but I’ve seen it so many times. Girls going all gaga for a boy and BAM”—he slammed his hand down onto the table—“they end up pregnant and dropping out of school to run after their out-of-a-job boyfriend.” He stabbed his eggs with his fork.

Great. All my dad saw me as was a hormonal teenager who only followed her biological urges. Instead of attempting to tell him that I was different—that I was actually responsible—I nodded and focused on my eggs. Just as I shoveled the last bit into my mouth, my phone chimed. I reached over and studied it.

My heart began to race when I saw the nickname I’d given Tyson. Chicken.

I blinked. Was he texting me? Again?

My phone chimed. Another one came in.

Dad glanced over at me, and then pointed to my phone with his fork. “You going to check that?”

I nodded and grabbed it, slipping it onto my lap.

“What’s Rebecca want so early in the morning?” he asked. ‘Cause only my best friend could possibly be texting me.

I swallowed. I hated lying to my dad. But confessing that it was one of his players was not an option for me. “She’s just clarifying some things we needed for Pep Group tonight.”

Pep Group. The only after school activity my dad let me participate in. Probably because it was sparsely attended. No threat of boys with saggy jeans and side swept hair riding in on a motorcycle to take the virtue of his little girl.

No. It was just Rebecca, Samson, Jessica, and I. And most times, it was just me. Alone.

Dad smiled. “Well, you should answer then. We need lots of visibility for the football team this year. We’re going to state,” he said, nodding toward my phone.

I smiled and stood, taking my plate over to the sink. “Will do, Dad.” I slipped into the living room so I could check my phone in peace. I didn’t need Dad over my shoulder reading whatever Tyson had written.

Once I was in the clear, I glanced down at my screen. My heart hammered in my chest as I read his text.

Tyson: Tiny. Can we meet after practice today? Tried the homework but I suck.

A smile played on my lips. I’m sure he was overexaggerating his lack of ability. How could someone with so much perfection be bad at anything.

I clicked on the second text.

Tyson: Promise you won’t think bad of me when you see how terrible I am?

I studied his words. Part of me wondered if he was flirting with me. Was that possible? I shook my head. I was being ridiculous. There was no way Tyson was flirting with me. I’m not in his social class. He’s the star quarterback and most likely to become homecoming king. Running with the likes of me would just hurt his social status.

He was being nice. Plain and simple. And I was only going to do stupid things if I allowed myself to think anything different.

Me: Sure. Where do you want to meet?

I studied my phone, waiting for him to answer. After five minutes with no response, I slid my phone into my dress’s pocket and headed back into the kitchen. I couldn’t spend my whole morning waiting for him to respond. I’d drive myself crazy.

Dad was standing at the sink, rinsing the breakfast dishes. I walked over and pulled open the dishwasher. After everything was loaded, he turned.

“Ready to head to school?”

I nodded and grabbed my backpack.

Fifteen minutes later, I was in front of my locker, trying to ignore the fact that I still hadn’t heard from Tyson. Why wasn’t he answering? Last night, he’d been so quick to respond. I tried to tell myself it was probably because he was busy getting to school and not because he suddenly got scared and wrote me off.

I slammed my locker door and turned, making my way to Chem. I’d be seeing him in a few minutes, so I tried to calm my nerves. This is why I should never allow myself to like a guy. I end up becoming a walking idiot.

Once I was in the room and sitting at a lab table, I got out my notebook and chemistry book and stared at the last question I hadn’t had time to finish last night.

The sound of a textbook landing on the table made me jump. I whipped my gaze up to see Tyson standing next to me. His normally cheery disposition had been replaced with frustration. I parted my lips to ask him what was wrong, but as soon as Tammy, a cheerleader, came over, his frown morphed into a smile.

They chatted for a minute, and I tried not to eavesdrop on their conversation. But it was hard when Tammy squealed and smacked Tyson’s shoulder every chance she got. Apparently, Drew was throwing a party on Friday and Tyson just had to go to it.

Of course she didn’t invite me, even though I was sitting inches away from Tyson. I might as well have been a fly on the wall with how much attention she gave me. I tried to brush it off. It wasn’t like my dad would let me go anyway.

Tyson smiled at her and said he’d try but he couldn’t promise anything. I tried not to notice the change in the tone of his voice. Instead of accommodating and carefree, it was strained. Like he was hiding something. I wondered if it had anything to do with him being late to practice.

Ms. Swanson walked in, cutting their conversation short. I continued doodling on my notebook as they said goodbye and Tammy made her way over to her lab table. I became very aware of how alone Tyson and I were. I wanted to look over to see what he was doing, but I feared what I might say, so I kept myself preoccupied with the squiggly line I was drawing.

“You’re quite the artist,” he said.

My heart galloped as I glanced over at him. Tyson had a playful smile on his lips as he nodded toward my notebook. He was stupidly handsome. And he was talking to me.

“You’re too kind,” I said as I tucked my hair behind my ear. “They’re actually requesting I do a whole collection to showcase at the Louvre.”

He raised his eyebrows. “France. Really.” He nodded. “Well, that is something.”

I laughed. “You didn’t know you were paired with someone in such high demand.”

He shook his head as he took out his notebook and pencil. “I didn’t. But if that’s the case, I’m glad we’re partners.”

I peeked at him from the corner of my eye as he flipped open his notebook. I saw him rub the back of his neck as he hunched over his homework. I’d never seen him look so out of place. When he walked into a room, he owned it. Every guy wanted to be him and every girl wanted to date him. All of that just to be taken down by chemistry.

“So, the homework didn’t go well for you?” I asked, glancing over at him.

His gaze met mine, and my breath caught in my throat. His normally bright blue eyes had turned stormy grey and unsure. He shook his head. “No. I tried to figure it out, but I ended up confusing myself. That’s why I need you, Tiny. You gotta help me.”

His words washed over me. I need you, Tiny. It was like he had the ability to jump into my head and read my innermost thoughts. He knew exactly what I needed to hear. I swallowed as I turned my attention back to my book. I couldn’t get wrapped up in every one of his words. They didn’t mean what I so desperately wanted them to mean.

“I’m sure once I explain it, you’ll be just fine.” I shot him an encouraging smile.

Tyson studied me for a moment before he sighed. “Well, I’m excited to learn. Did you not get my text this morning?”

I tapped the end of my pencil on the table. “I answered back.”

He drew his eyebrows together as he shifted to pull his phone from his pocket. Right as he clicked it on, the bell rang and Ms. Swallow clapped her hands.

“Mr. Blake, please put your phone away. Class has started.”

Tyson parted his lips to protest, but Ms. Swallow shot him an uncompromising look. “Of course,” he said, slipping it into his backpack.

Ms. Swallow spent the rest of class discussing the difference between a base and an acid. I kept thorough notes as she wrote on the board. When I glanced over at Tyson, he was doodling a picture in his notebook. Why wasn’t he taking notes? If he was struggling this much in class, one would think he’d be trying his hardest to pay attention.

His phone buzzed, and he glanced around before he bent down to grab it. I tried hard not to notice, but I could see that it was a text from Tammy.

His shoulders shook as if he were laughing, then he turned in Tammy’s direction. Acid rose up in my throat as I saw him nod toward her and type something on his phone.

I tried not to be frustrated. I tried to ignore the flirty texts they were sending back and forth between each other. But, no matter how much I tried to justify what he was doing, anger built up inside of my chest.

Was this all an act? One of two things was going on here.

One, he didn’t want to do the homework or learn about chemistry. But he knew that I was smart, and if he asked me, I’d fall over myself to help him out. After all, I was the sheltered dweeb who’d never been kissed.

Or two, it was some sort of sick bet. All the football players were trying to see what would actually happen to them if they were caught trying to date me. Was my dad crazy enough to enact some of the rumors that went around the school?

Either way, I didn’t want to be a part of it. If Tyson was going to be like this, I was done. I may not have dated anyone, but I knew what I was worth. And I was worth a whole lot more than Tyson thought.

So I sat the rest of chemistry, rigid on my stool. I didn’t glance over at him or try to analyze just how close he rested his elbow next to mine. I ignored his attempts at flirting when we started the acid/base lab Ms. Swallow gave us.

I wasn’t going to be treated this way by any guy, much less Tyson Blake. He was going to have to find some other naive girl to fawn over him. Because I was out.