Chapter 45

“Yes, the last pharaoh of Egypt. She was a powerful woman who was ruthless a lot of times. Even refused to share power with her own brother.”

“Yes. That. Where?”

“Let me show you.”

I was forty pages in when I got a text from Hayden.

You okay?

Did you know that Cleopatra had to marry her own brother?! Marry him!

Um . . .

It was customary. But gross, right? She hated him. Mainly because she didn’t want to share power with him. I’m sure he didn’t make a “documentary” starring her, though, so really, I don’t know what her beef was. I’m sure I’ll find out soon.

Did you just use the word “beef” in a sentence?

Do you have a problem with that?

I might. Where are you?

I’m finding depth.

Are you okay?

I showed my parents the video.

What did they say?

I don’t know. I’ll find out soon enough.

I feared seeing my parents’ reactions. I was already mad enough at my brother. I wasn’t sure I could handle more anger when faced with their hurt too. Especially because it wasn’t often I saw them hurt. They were so good at playing The Perfect Parents that I wasn’t sure how The Devastated Parents would look. My phone vibrated with an incoming call and I answered it with a whisper.

“Hello?”

“Why are you whispering?”

I closed the book, left it on the table, and walked toward the door. “I’m in the library.”

“That’s where all the Cleopatra facts were coming from?”

I opened the door and stepped outside. A breeze lifted the hair off my forehead and I sat on the closest bench. “Yes. What are you doing?”

“Not much. I called because you weren’t answering my text.”

I was confused. “I answered your text, like, five times. Did you send me another one?”

“You avoided my question, like, five times. I was asking if you are okay.”

“Oh. Yes. I guess. I don’t know.”

He laughed. “Is this multiple choice?”

“My brother’s just a jerk, you know.”

“Oh, I know. I’m sorry, tia, I really am.”

“You know what’s funny? He couldn’t even say sorry about what he did, and it was his mistake and you had nothing to do with it and I think you’ve apologized three times.” On a whim I added, “Are you busy?”

“Just practicing a scene.”

“Do you want to get ice cream? I’ll run lines with you.”

He hummed a little and I thought he was going to turn me down so I added, “My friends and I always get ice cream when something bad happens. It’s how I get over things.” I cringed, angry that I chose to make him feel sorry for me again to get him to meet me.

“Okay, sure. Text me the address.”

It wasn’t until after I hung up the phone and texted him the address that I realized I was not dressed appropriately for a date. Not that this was a date. But it was definitely an I-have-a-crush-on-this-guy-and-want-him-to-actually-like-me-and-not-continue-to-feel-sorry-for-me-so-I-shouldn’t-show-up-in-yoga-pants-and-a-tank-with-no-makeup kind of thing. It was too late, though. He’d have to see me this way unless I wanted to cancel.

I didn’t want to cancel. It didn’t matter anyway. He had seen my brother’s home video of me and I had looked—well, aside from dumb and shallow—awful. And maybe worrying about him seeing me look awful on top of dumb and shallow made me even more dumb and shallow, but it’s how I felt. And I really wanted to see him so I pushed those thoughts aside. I’d had a bad day and the idea of seeing him was the only highlight so far.

It was cold in the ice cream shop. I wondered if they had to keep it cold for the ice cream or if it was the workers’ preference. Because as the eater of the ice cream, I wanted a little warmth. I always ended up at the metal tables outside.

I looked at all the flavors again while I waited for Hayden, not sure if I should order without him or wait.

“Are you ready?” the guy behind the counter asked.

“I’m still waiting for someone,” I told him again.

“You go to my school,” he said. “tia, right?”

My eyes snapped to his. Another person I didn’t know. Being in leadership lent itself to people knowing my name and me not knowing theirs in return, but I was feeling extra sensitive about that fact lately. “Have we met before?”

“No.”

“Good,” I said with a sigh, then realized how it sounded. “I mean, not that I wouldn’t want to meet you, I just thought I forgot your name.”

He pointed to his nametag, which said, Blake.

“Oh. Right. I just meant that I thought I should’ve known your name without having to look and . . . never mind.”

“Are you ready to order yet?”

I raised my eyebrows. Was I picking up that habit from Hayden?

“Oh yeah, you’re waiting for someone.” Why did he say that like he didn’t believe me? I hadn’t been waiting too long, had I? I glanced at my cell phone. I’d been here for fifteen minutes. Maybe Hayden wasn’t coming after all.

“I’ll just wait outside . . . is what I would’ve said a few days ago.”

A line of confusion formed between his brows.

“So . . .” My eyes went to his nametag again. “Blake. Are you a senior?”