Winging It by Cate Cameron Page B

can probably eat about as many as you want to make.”
    Wendy gave me a quick, relieved smile that made me feel like the world’s best big brother, and I figured I’d been fairly compensated for my time. I might not have the slightest idea how to handle girls my age, but the young ones? Them, I could deal with.

Chapter Thirteen
    Nat
    It was surprisingly easy to unplan the breakup with Toby. I just gave him a call and asked if he was okay keeping things going for a little while longer, and he said sure. I asked if it would be okay if we did something other than the hockey party that night, and he said sure. I asked if he wanted to watch movies, and he said sure. I asked if we could do a blitz of movies based on books by Nicholas Sparks, and he only hesitated for a second before saying sure.
    “Oh my God, is this Zombie Toby? Have aliens captured your brain? You seriously want to watch that stuff?”
    “I didn’t say I wanted to. I just said I would.”
    “Wow. You are, like, the best fake boyfriend ever.”
    “Yeah, thanks,” he’d said, his voice a bit tighter than usual. “Do you want me to pick you up after reffing?”
    “You’ve got a game this afternoon—will you have time?” Wouldn’t he be caught up in the postgame blitz of adoring fans and puck bunnies? And, damn, I didn’t like the idea of the bunnies going after him. Because it would make our fake relationship look less convincing, I told myself. That was the only problem.
    I needed to get my brain back on track. “For full fake boyfriend points, you should pick up pizza before you come get me.” I was joking, and from his noncommittal grunt I assumed he knew it.
    But when I jogged out of the arena that night and sank into the passenger seat of his car, I took about one whiff of the scented air and then turned to see the flat, square boxes in the backseat.
    “You still like garlic fingers?” he asked. “And meat lovers’ pizza?”
    “You’re my hero.” I’d worked right through dinner and had been anticipating some reheated whatever-was-in-the-fridge when I got home, so pizza and garlic fingers was a huge improvement to my night. “I want to crack those boxes open and start eating right now.”
    “You can if you want.”
    “ I can, but you? Pizza isn’t the best food for eating while you’re driving.”
    He shrugged. “It’s not like you live far away. I can hold off until we get there.”
    “If you can, then I can, too. I’ve got willpower, you know.”
    “Yeah, okay. Try to slurp up some of that drool so the upholstery doesn’t get wet.”
    “Hey, how was your game?”
    “It was good. We won, but I didn’t get any points myself. How about you? How was reffing?”
    I squinted at him. “What are you up to, Toby?”
    And sure enough, he jumped and gave me a guilty look. “What are you talking about?”
    But I knew him too well to be fooled. “You agreed to watch Nicholas Sparks movies. You brought me my favorite pizza, and, drool comments aside, you’re acting like a total gentleman across the board. You’re even doing the ‘deflect the conversation away from yourself and back to her’ thing. It’s weird and unnatural, and you’re up to something.” Maybe I didn’t want to know. Maybe I should just keep my mouth shut and enjoy it. But this was Toby, and I cared about him, so if something was going on, I should figure it out.
    “I’m just trying to be a good guy.”
    “No.” I kind of wanted to touch him, then, to reach out and take his hand or something. But I managed to keep the impulse under control. “You are a good guy, always have been. That’s not something you have to try to be. So this new thing, whatever it is…it’s not just being a good guy.”
    “A good guy,” he echoed, and then he snorted. “Yeah. Excellent. Good guys finish last, right?”
    “I think that’s nice guys, isn’t it?” I really wasn’t sure where this was going, but I didn’t like seeing Toby like this. He was—despondent?