“You’re saying we’re not?” His eyes are hopeful.

God, guys can be so dumb sometimes. “Would I be here if we were?”

He nods. “I thought maybe I could be in a relationship with you. Call you my girlfriend.”

There’s nothing romantic about a maybe, but I know this is a huge deal for him. He’s never called anyone his girlfriend, and the fact that he thought he could call me that…well, I don’t feel all that angry anymore.

“Promise me something.”

He stares into my eyes. “What?”

“Don’t call me that unless you’re sure it’s what you want. Don’t say it because you think it’s what I want to hear. I won’t end up like Meredith.”

“I promise.” He reaches for my hands, and I let him take them.

I sigh, not sure if I’m making the right decision, but I don’t want to lose him. He’s right about us being a huge part of each other’s lives. How many people end up with lifelong friends? My parents don’t have any. They don’t even talk to the people they went to college with anymore. Toby’s just as important to me as Tori is.

“Are you still mad at me?”

I shake my head. “I guess not, but you need to tell Meredith that it’s really over.”

“I will.” He tugs my hands a little, asking me to join him on the bed. I sit down. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

I think about the first time we kissed—how he asked for permission. The memory breaks down the last of the wall I put up when I realized he slept with Meredith. “Yes.”

He presses his lips to mine, and it’s exactly like our first kiss. Long, passionate, but at the same time soft and sweet.

“Knock, knock, math nerds,” Tori calls, opening the door. The door I thought was locked.

Chapter Fourteen

Toby and I pull apart as fast as we can, but his watch catches on the bottom of my shirt and tears it. I cover the rip with my arm.

“Um, I guess my doorknob isn’t sticking anymore,” Toby says. I don’t think he’s breathing at all.

Tori shrugs and examines her nails, not noticing how awkward Toby and I both look. “I told Dad about it. He must have fixed it for you.”

Mr. Michaels is the least handy person I know. If he fixed the door, it explains why it won’t lock anymore.

“Thanks.” Toby stands up and runs his hand through his hair. “Well, I think we’re good for today, Becca. Good job.”

I don’t know how to get up without Tori seeing my ripped shirt. I grab my bag and widen my eyes at Toby. Luckily, he takes the hint and grabs my books for me. I shove them inside my bag and hold it in front of me.

“Have a good night, you two,” Toby says.

I walk toward Tori, and she leans in to whisper, “Did you ask him about Ryder?”

“Oh.” I turn to Toby. “Would you please tell your sister about Ryder? Put her out of her misery.”

“Hey. What, are you two ganging up on me now?” She elbows me. “You’re my friend, remember?”

“Relax,” Toby says. “Becca was only trying to make me tell you.”

“Tell me what?” She steps into the room.

“Ryder wants to know if you’ll go to an early lunch, a movie, and then whatever.”

She squeals. “Of course! Especially the whatever part!”

Toby gives me an “I told you so” look.

“So, is he going to call me? Did you give him my number?” She looks like she’s about to burst out of her own skin.

“Yes, I gave him your number. He’ll probably call you tonight.”

Tori grabs my arm and tugs me into the hall. “Come on. You have to help me pick out an outfit.”

I look back over my shoulder at Toby. He smiles as I’m dragged off to Tori’s room. I can’t hide my shirt all night, even with Tori in her Ryder-induced state of euphoria, so I rack my brain for an excuse.

“I knew he’d call. I knew it. We just clicked last weekend, you know?” She opens her closet and I put my bag down on the bed. Better to get this over with right away. She flings aside hanger after hanger. “Ugh, I need something really sexy but that doesn’t look like I’m trying to be sexy. Know what I mean?”

Not at all. “I’m sure whatever you wear will be fine.”

“What about that shirt you bought?” She wheels around to face me. “Did you return it?”

“No. I sort of forgot to.”

“Good. I’m borrowing it.”

“But I’m not keeping it.”

“Then I’ll buy it from you.” Her eyes lower. “Hey, what happened to your shirt?”

“Oh, I got it caught on the spiral of my notebook. I didn’t know it was caught, and I ended up tearing my shirt when I threw my notebook in frustration.” I hold my breath, waiting to see if she buys it.

“You really need a new tutor. I know I keep saying it, but it must be torture studying with Toby.” She searches her dresser and pulls out a pair of jeans that are so tight on her they look painted on.

“No.” I shake my head. “That’s going to look like you’re trying too hard.”

“Says the girl wearing a ripped t-shirt.”

“I’m trying to help you. Be nice.”

“Yes, but I want to look sexy, and you choose comfort over sexy every time.”

“Touché.” I freeze as the word comes out of my mouth.

“What did you just say?” She looks up from the jeans with wide eyes.

“Nothing. Why?”

She steps toward me. “You said ‘touché.’ Toby says that all the time.”

“Does he?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know. This is bad, Becca. You’re starting to act like him and sound like him.”

“No, I’m not.” I force a laugh.

“Yeah, you are. You’re picking on me, which you never did before he started tutoring you, and now you say ‘touché?’”

“Okay, I guess maybe I got it from him. I don’t see what the big deal is, though.”

“That’s scary.”

I don’t feel like getting into this again. The more I defend Toby the more suspicious she’s going to get. “Whatever,” I say, using her favorite word.

She smiles and goes back to looking for the perfect pair of jeans for her date.

***

Saturday morning I’m up early, expecting to jump out of a moving plane with Toby. My stomach is queasy as I walk into the kitchen, holding the permission form I printed off the Internet last night. I’m not sure who to ask, Mom or Dad. I don’t think either one will go for me risking my own life like this. But maybe that’s a good thing. I’ll get out of staring down death from ten thousand feet in the air, and Toby and I can do something else together.

“What do you have there, sweetheart?” Dad asks, pouring himself a bowl of cereal.

“Oh, um, it’s a permission slip.”

“Something for school?” Mom asks, bringing her coffee to the table.

“No. Some of the kids from school are going skydiving today, and they asked me to come.”

Mom nearly spills her coffee. “What on earth would make you want to jump out of an airplane?”

Dad laughs and brings his cereal and orange juice to the table. “I can understand why she’d want to. I did some pretty crazy things when I was her age.”

“Great, Jack, put ideas in her head.” Mom shoots him a look.

“Did you ever go skydiving, Dad?” I sit down because my knees are feeling shaky.

“Once. I was a sophomore in college, and the guys in my dorm decided to go on Halloween.”

“How appropriate,” Mom says, squeezing her coffee mug. “What better day to tempt death?”

“Would you relax?” Dad removes her hands from the mug. “If you squeeze that any tighter, you’re going to break it.”

“Relax? Our only child wants to jump out of a plane and you want me to relax?”

“You jump tandem the first several times. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Tandem? What’s that?” It sounds like a trig term, which doesn’t make me excited at all.

Dad takes a sip of juice. “You have an instructor strapped to your back. They do everything, and you just enjoy the ride.”

That doesn’t sound too bad. I won’t have to worry about screwing up.