Page 4 of Ruthless Court

Romantically windswept.

Possibly electrocuted.

Ryan has seen me after tournaments, when gym humidity doubles the size of my hair and my glasses slide down my nose every thirty seconds. If he likes me after that, a little wind will not end us.

Us.

My stomach flips.

I push off before I can scare myself.

The parking lot is crowded when I arrive. Cars crawl through the drop-off lane. Students gather near the entrance, comparing homework and pretending the first bell is a rumor.

I fold my scooter beside the bike rack and check the time.

Three minutes.

Then I see Ryan.

He steps through the side door near the science wing and glances over his shoulder before heading toward the back courtyard.

My pulse jumps.

He looks good.

Dark jeans. School polo. Blond hair falling across his forehead because he never styles it, which somehow achieves the exact result half the boys in school spend forty minutes attempting.

A sheet of white poster board is tucked beneath his arm.

This is it.

The courtyard.

The sign.

Privacy before the hallway fills with cameras.

I smooth my shirt.

What am I supposed to say?

Yes is traditional.

Maybe I should make a joke first.

Make him sweat for two seconds.

Prom?

I’ll check my calendar.

No. Too cold.

Maybe I smile, say yes, and let the moment happen without hiding behind sarcasm.

Terrifying.

I leave my scooter by the wall and follow him.