She heard nothing. She recalled that Tripp had his phone on vibrate the time she had seen him texting in class. Either that wasn’t the case, or it wasn’t him. A bizarre mixture of relief and disappointment came over her.
Mrs. Cohen started to talk about an upcoming project, but Ashlyn was tuned out. She found herself to be a very curious person, and she was more curious than ever about the person texting her and how they got her number.
✽ ✽ ✽
Tripp smirked when he finally dared to look at his phone after class.
Ashlyn: I know you’re in a class right now. This is just a test.
Did she really think that he’d be so careless to have his phone on ring or vibrate? However, this also meant that a part of her suspected him.
Unknown: A test?
Ashlyn: Sorry. Stupid. Ignore that.
“Ashlyn,” an authoritative voiced called out. It belonged to Mr. Reynolds, the newspaper and journalism teacher. “I’m so glad I caught you before the end of the day.”
Ashlyn closed her locker and refrained from pointing out that the school day was over.
“I was just about to email you, but if you could come to my classroom really quick. I have tutorials going on, but I needed to give you something,” he went on.
Ashlyn agreed and followed Mr. Reynolds back to his room. At least a dozen students were in there for after-school tutorials. Several of them Ashlyn recognized as ones that didn’t need tutoring, they were just overachievers.
“I anticipate you’ll probably be at the baseball game this Saturday,” Mr. Reynolds asked as he dug in a file cabinet for a folder.
“I haven’t decided. I can be.”
There were probably twenty games that their school would end up playing, both at home and away. Ashlyn had no intention of going to the away games. In fact, since Eric wasn’t playing, she probably would only go to a couple more with Emory. Eric had already been upset that she went to the first game.
“Well, if you are, I was hoping you could do an interview with next week’s student athlete of the week,” he said, handing her a paper of questions. They were the standard questions that were repetitively asked of most of the athletes of the week. “However, if you don’t get around to it, that’s fine. It can wait until next week, but athlete of the week is always in Thursday’s edition.”
Ashlyn smiled and took the paper. “I’ll see what I can do. Who is it?”
“Oh, the new guy, Tripp Scott. I’ve heard great things about him, mostly on the field, but off the field as well,” Mr. Reynolds gushed.
Ashlyn’s brain scrambled for something, anything, to get out of the assignment. She felt strange when she was around Tripp. She didn’t want to have to sit down with him and ask all those questions.
“Actually, sir. I’m pretty swamped. If there’s someone else–”
Before Ashlyn could finish her sentence, one of the overachievers staying after school on a Friday for no good reason, rushed up to Mr. Reynold’s desk.
“Mr. Reynolds! If Ash doesn’t want to, I’m able,” Grace said in one excited breath.
Mr. Reynolds gave Ashlyn a sharp look, clearly not happy, and directed his words to Grace. “That won’t be necessary.”
“It’s fine with me,” Ashlyn chimed in.
“See! It’s fine with her. I can interview Tripp,” she squealed. She wasn’t doing a very good job at containing herself with the idea of getting a chance to talk to a guy that most of the female body at the school was falling all over.
“Thank you for…your enthusiasm,” Mr. Reynolds began. He looked back over to Ashlyn. “I handed this assignment to you. Is there a problem?”
Ashlyn’s first thought was no. There wasn’t a problem. It was all in her head. She had interviewed lots of athletes in the last two years. This one shouldn’t be any different, but it was. She just couldn’t explain that to Mr. Reynolds when she had a hard time explaining it to herself.
“No. Sorry. I’ve got it,” Ashlyn finally concluded.
Grace shot her the nastiest of glares when she folded the paper up and put it in her bag. Ashlyn couldn’t see how she had managed to offend someone who had never been part of the conversation to begin with.
✽ ✽ ✽
Unknown: How was your day?
It was stupid, so stupid. Ashlyn couldn’t contain the excitement that rushed through her when she looked at the text. Earlier in the day, Eric had told her he wanted to take her to a movie, but shortly after school, his plans changed. She should have asked her friends to do something, but she had already told them she had plans with Eric. She could only imagine the grief that Emory would give her if she told her that he canceled again.
Desperately wanting to engage in conversation with the mystery person, she knew she’d have to come up with more than a one-word answer.
Ashlyn: It was long, but thankfully it’s the weekend.
Unknown: Big plans?
Ashlyn: A friend and I are going to the baseball game tomorrow.
Unknown: You like baseball?
Ashlyn: I’m honestly not sure. I think. I usually just go because she goes.
Ashlyn hated putting it like that, but it was the truth. Oddly, she decided to leave out the part that she first started going to the games for Eric. If this person went to the same school, chances were, they knew she was in a relationship, or could easily have found that out.
Unknown: Doesn’t seem like the best reason.
Ashlyn: Well, now my newspaper teacher gave me an assignment for student athlete of the week. I’m supposed to try to do the interview after the game tomorrow, but it isn’t due until Wednesday evening, so it can go out Thursday.
She groaned and fell back into the couch. She did not need to babble all that in a text. Saying that also made her think of Tripp, and she did not want to spend her Friday night thinking of him; however, the next text made her think of him even more when she told her mysterious friend who she was interviewing.
Ashlyn: Tripp Scott. Ugh.
Unknown: Haha. Do you not get along with him?
Ashlyn didn’t want to rant away about Tripp to some stranger. It wasn’t that she didn’t get along with him. In class, they did pretty well when they worked on assignments together. It was something about that first day. The way he looked at her was unnerving, and he completely ignored the fact that she had a boyfriend. Then there was that playful moment with the sign, which Tripp had to ultimately ruin.
Ashlyn: He can just be a bit much.
Tripp didn’t entirely understand what that meant, but it probably had something to do with his forwardness and confidence, which Ashlyn thought to be cockiness. Okay, maybe he was a little cocky.
“Sweetie, it’s Friday night,” Tripp’s mother, Eliza pointed out.
“Thanks for informing me,” he said, continuing to swipe away on his phone.
“I just thought you’d want to be out with friends.”
“Tripp doesn’t have any friends,” Cason yelled as he plopped on the couch beside Tripp and reached for the remote.
“I do too,” Tripp grumbled. It was his only response to his little brother. There was no way he was going to argue with an eight-year-old. With respect to his mother, “I went out to eat last night after the game. I’d just rather stay in tonight.”
“Stay in and text,” his mother questioned with a teasing hint in her voice. “You do realize if you get off that thing you could just go and talk in person.”
“She’s busy,” he sighed before he could catch himself.
“Ooooh,” Cason cooed.
“Ah, the reason there’s a $250 florist charge on the credit card…”
Tripp playfully kicked at his brother, who was now making gross kissy noises. “I asked dad first.”
“I know. He told me. I didn’t know you had a girlfriend,” Eliza shrugged. She went back to organizing a bookshelf.
“She’s just a friend.”
Eliza spun around to face her son, her eyes narrowe
d and her lips tight. “Do you want to talk,” she hesitated.
“Oh my gosh,” Tripp laughed. “I’m going to my room.”
Tripp couldn’t believe that Ashlyn continued to text him throughout the night. A part of him felt like it was probably because she wasn’t out with her boyfriend or friends, and he was just a cure to boredom. He’d take it for now.
It wasn’t until after one in the morning that he finally had to tell her goodnight. They had text for more than six hours. There were a few breaks, but for the most part, the conversation was steady. He was careful with what he told her to some of her questions. When it came to school, all he told her was that they were in the same year. He made sure to not mention anything about playing baseball. Aside from that, he was very honest and open with her, and he felt like she was as well. Although he did wonder why she not once mentioned anything about her boyfriend.
Chapter 8
“You look strangely happy,” Emory pointed out as Ashlyn made her way up the bleachers to their usual spot.
“I take it the movie went well,” Kayla asked with a wink.
There was no point in lying to her friends. “Eric canceled on me, so I stayed home.”
“What,” June gasped. “We all could have done something.”
“It was late and at the last minute,” Ashlyn said, attempting to brush off the conversation.
“Wait,” Emory began, dragging out the one word for much longer than the one syllable required. “Why are you blushing?”
Ashlyn tried to hide her face and took that moment to dig her camera out of her bag. “I’m not blushing,” she insisted.
“Oh my gosh, yes you are,” June squealed.
“Totally! What are you hiding,” Kayla pressed.
Ashlyn wanted to tell them. Maybe she could tell them just a little. She could trust all three of them. It would never get back to Eric. That thought alone made her feel like she was doing something wrong, but she wasn’t. Was she?
“There’s been this person texting me,” she vaguely began.
June and Kayla leaned in, and in unison, “And?”
“Well, that’s what I was doing last night. Just texting,” Ashlyn admitted leaving out all the details, especially the last message she received, which only kept her up feeling giddy.
“That sounds ominous,” June said in a whisper.
Ashlyn looked to Emory. She hadn’t said anything so far, but she was doing that thing where she was listening and evaluating. Ashlyn hated when she did that.
Just as Ashlyn put a new memory card in her camera, Emory swiped her phone.
“Goodnight, beautiful?!”
“Hey,” Ashlyn yelled, lunging toward Emory and yanking the phone away. “Don’t go through my phone.”
“You let Eric go through your phone,” Emory pointed out with great seriousness. When Ashlyn’s eyes widened in panic, “Yeah, remember last semester when he saw that I text you that he was a loser jerk. He flipped out and wanted you to break off our friendship.”
“It’s just some texts. I’ll delete them before–”
“You shouldn’t have to.” Emory shook her head. “Just because someone calls you beautiful doesn’t imply anything, but we both know he won’t see it like that. Honestly, put a lock on your phone. It’s annoying that even we have to be careful about what we say to you, just in case he sees it. It’s one thing for him to have access to your phone, it’s another for him to go through what we talk about.” Needless to say, Emory was still mad about the ordeal from the semester prior.
“Well maybe if you’d stop calling him names,” Ashlyn pointed out.
Emory shrugged. “I call them like I see them.”
✽ ✽ ✽
“Hey, Tripp,” Ashlyn called out to him as he crossed the parking lot.
He was a little surprised, most everyone had cleared out after the game. She came jogging up to him with a giant purse. He didn’t know what it was called, but he knew she kept her camera tucked safely inside.
“Hey,” she repeated, once she was within normal talking distance.
The way she positioned herself in front of him and turned, blocking the sun from both their eyes, allowed him to face the original direction he was headed. This also meant that he could see his parents and little brother waiting for him at their car. Cason was already making duck faces that were supposed to resemble kisses.
“Hey,” Tripp softly addressed her.
“Yeah, so,” Ashlyn nervously began. “First of all, good game.” It was almost painful to say. She knew Tripp had a big head when it came to baseball. Sadly, after seeing him play for a second time, he had every right to think he was as good as he claimed. “Secondly, I’m supposed to interview you for student athlete of the week.”
“Oh, cool,” he said, pretending to be surprised.
“Yeah, do you have a few minutes?”
If he did the interview now, it would be rushed, and he really wanted some alone time with Ashlyn, regardless what the context was.
He nodded behind her. “My parents are waiting.”
Ashlyn turned and gave a sweet smile, mostly because once she turned, she didn’t know what else to do.
“We’re going out for an early dinner,” he continued.
Ashlyn tried not to be disappointed. “Oh, I see.” When given an assignment, she liked to get it out of the way sooner rather than later.
“You’re welcomed to come with us,” Tripp offered. He couldn’t help but burst into laughter when Ashlyn’s jaw dropped, and her giant blue eyes grew twice their size. “I’m kidding,” he began trying to compose himself. “Well, I’m not. You could come, but I knew you wouldn’t.”
Ashlyn wanted nothing more than to go, only to prove him wrong. This, however, was one challenge she could not allow herself to accept.
“I just don’t know your parents.” She glanced back to them, now having a conversation between themselves. “Or your brother.”
Tripp shrugged. “That’s how you get to know someone. You talk to them, spend time with them.”
Suddenly, Ashlyn didn’t like the direction the conversation was going. There seemed to be an underlying meaning to his words, and she didn’t want to overthink what he was saying.
“Anyway, just give me your number and we can set something up. Assuming you agree to be interviewed,” she added, taking out her phone.
Tripp raised a brow, and a smirk came across his face.
“What,” Ashlyn questioned, quite surprised.
“I don’t know. I wouldn’t feel right about that.”
“What are you talking about?”
Tripp pretended to think. Ashlyn knew right away he was playing some kind of game that she didn’t have the time for. “I mean, you have a boyfriend. You probably shouldn’t be asking other guys for their number.”
“Ugh! You are impossible! I’m asking so we can set up a time and place,” she continued to scream in frustration.
“You could just wait until I see you in class on Monday,” Tripp said quietly, taking a step closer.
His proximity caused the spring air to feel much warmer than Ashlyn knew it to be. “Or, this could be done by then.”
“Sorry. I have plans the rest of the weekend,” he said. He took a step around Ashlyn. From over his shoulder, “See you Monday.”
Chapter 9
“You seem to be in a good mood,” Tripp pointed out when Ashlyn sat down.
“I’m always in a good mood.” She made note that several people in the last four days had already said something to the same effect.
Tripp hadn’t gotten a good look at Ashlyn from across the cafeteria at lunch, but now that she was seated next to him, he saw how adorable she was. She wore a plaid button up in bright shades of blue, pink and purple. Over that she had on a slender pair of overalls with decorative patchwork at one of the knees. What he found to be strangely cute was that today she had her hair in haphazard pigtails. In a sea of contoured faces and beach waves from a meta
l rod, she stood out.
“What,” Ashlyn asked, now looking at him after preparing her area for the lesson.
Tripp didn’t realize that he had been staring. “Nothing.”
“Oh, before class starts, I wanted to talk to you about meeting up for just a few minutes.”
“Just a few minutes?”
“I’m a fast writer. The questions shouldn’t take long,” Ashlyn pointed out, reminding Tripp of the interview for the school’s online paper.
He tried to hide his disappointment. “Oh, yeah, that. I can meet after school today.”
Just before the bell rang, Ashlyn glanced back at her phone. She had hoped for a message, but had to figure that her mystery friend was already in class.
“Something wrong,” Tripp asked.
“No. I was just expecting–” Ashlyn quickly stopped when she realized what she was about to say.
“Ah, the boyfriend. Gotcha,” Tripp teased.
“No. Not the boyfriend. He has a name by the way,” Ashlyn spat.
Tripp leaned in, closer than Ashlyn ever expected. “So, not Eric. That’s odd.”
Quickly finding her words, which seemed difficult with his proximity, “What’s odd?”
“You just looked hopeful, and then disappointed, like a girl expecting a message from her boyfriend.” Tripp held a smirk that Ashlyn suddenly found to be rather attractive. At the realization, she wanted to smash her notebook in his face to make it go away. “And now you’re blushing.”
Ashlyn huffed and turned away with the ringing of the bell. “Just shut up.”
Then he laughed. He laughed a lot. Hearing that laugh did something to Ashlyn that she didn’t like, not one little bit.
As Mrs. Cohen called roll, Tripp whispered into Ashlyn’s ear at an impossibly close distance. “After school? Library?”
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