8. Well. . . . .shit

NATE

"Hey man," Marco nudges me with his arm, corking me a mischievous eyebrow. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing." I deny, taking a sip of my orange juice, pretending to focus my eyes on my phone lying on our lunch table by the edge of the noisy cafeteria.

"You are thinking about her again, aren't you?" Jennie teases, wrapping her hand around Marco's arm.

I take a bite of my burger, feigning ignorance. "What are you talking about?"

"I am talking about Tasha." She throws a fried potato chip into her mouth with her free hand. "You bumped into her this morning. Marco and I saw the way you were looking at her."

I swallow down the mashed burger in my mouth, trying to look unbothered. "What do you mean by the way I was looking at her?"

"Come on man." Marco nudges me again. "We all know you have feelings for Tasha Quinn and that she is the reason why you don't have a girlfriend. You never stopped looking at her in class today, and you do that every single day. Cut the pretense already