What You Always Wanted by Kristin Rae Page A

so lame. He just . . . asked me. Red’s self-obsessed offer was somehow moreappealing. I said I’d think about it, but obviously I’m going to say no.”
    Silence. Blank stares.
    â€œWhat
should
he have done?” Angela asks.
    Tiffany snorts. “Don’t even get her started.”
    â€œLadies,” I say, snapping a slice of pear in two, “I think it’s time I introduced you to the love of my life.”

CHAPTER TEN

    After ten minutes at the homecoming game Friday night, one thing is clear: I don’t belong in Texas. I’ve never seen so many cowboy boots and hats outside of the movies in my life. Grown men spit, actually
spit
, anywhere and everywhere. En masse they’re a Southern bunch, some with the drawl I expected to hear when I moved down here, all boasting about how their kid is the best. And the moms . . . I can’t even.
    Every high school girl seems to be here to cheer on the football guys. And their bodies are practically covered in these gigantic, fake white flowers with ribbons and bells and who knows what else hanging from them. They call them mums. I guess it was a Texas tradition back in the day for the boys to give their homecoming date a chrysanthemum flower, and over time it’s evolved into a social-status competition. The bigger, the better. Some of the senior girls’ mums are so big, they haveto wear this special thing over their shoulders to pin them to so their shirts don’t rip off. I can’t believe the administration allows those noisy things to be worn at school. Between every class today, it was like walking among a herd of dairy cows.
    Angela and Tiffany agreed to marathon my choice of movies tonight, with the condition that I attend the homecoming game with them. Well, I’m here, but it doesn’t mean I have to sit on these uncomfortable metal benches and watch the whole game.
    I talk the girls into a snack just before halftime—I’m in the mood for something cheesy and wonderfully disgusting. We head for the concession stand, but I lose my appetite when I see who’s working the register. Brian is not touching anything that goes in my mouth.
    â€œY’all go ahead,” I tell them. “I’ll just wait out here.”
    As I turn around, Brian calls out, “Nachos are only five bucks, Maddie. You know you want some.”
    Greasy, gooey cheese. I really do. “Only? Five bucks seems a little steep for a bowl of corn chips and neon cheese.”
    â€œWorth it,” Angela says, digging cash out of her purse.
    â€œMoney goes to the drama department tonight. Did you forget?” Brian removes his school-colored hat and scratches his head with the same hand. He’s definitely not touching my food. “And we get extra credit working the stand.”
    I motion to his customers. “Well, carry on, Chef Boyardee.”
    He fills Angela’s nacho order, then disappears behind the wall. We start the walk back toward the bleachers, when suddenly Brian’s standing in front of me with a constipated look on his face. Then he drops to one knee. A few nearby kids and a teacher slow to see what’s going on.
    â€œWhaaa . . . ?” Angela draws out as Tiffany leans toward me and whispers, “Holy whoa, girl. What’s happening?”
    â€œGo to homecoming with me, Maddie,” he says, taking my hands in his.
    Because I’m in shock, and not because a boy is holding my hands and my brain doesn’t know what to do with that information, I don’t pull away. But I do have enough wits about me to understand this is still Brian.
    â€œAfter what you did? You can’t be serious.”
    â€œI’m sorry about that.” His smile fades into regret. “I swear I only told
one
person that you might not have been kissed. You were just so cryptic about it.”
    My lips curl into a snarl. “You caught me off guard. How was I supposed to know