บททั้งหมดของ My Bully Next Door: บทที่ 151 - บทที่ 158

Ella“What is your greatest weakness?”I stare at Beckett.“You.”He lowers the sheet of interview questions.“Seriously.”“I am serious.”“You can’t tell them your boyfriend is your greatest weakness.”“Why not?”“Because it sounds sexual.”My mouth falls open.Across the kitchen, Mom makes a choking sound.“Beckett!”“What? It does.”“You are never helping me prepare for anything again.”He looks offended.“I’ve been doing great.”“You asked where I see myself in five years and then argued with my answer.”“You said graduate school.”“Because I might want to go to graduate school.”“That’s more school after college.”“Yes, Beckett. That’s generally how graduate school works.”“Sounds excessive.”Mom walks past us with her coffee.“Remind me what you’re planning to major in, Beckett?”I grin.His eyes narrow.“Everybody in this house can go to hell.”“Language.”“This isn’t even my house!”“Still my rules.”I laugh so hard I have to put my head down.My interview is in forty-five min

EllaThe first time I watched Beckett Cross play football, I sat three rows from the top and hoped nobody noticed me.Tonight I’m standing against the railing in his jersey while Lila paints a crooked number twelve on my cheek.“Stop moving.”“You’re putting paint near my eyeball.”“Beauty requires sacrifice.”“I don’t think blindness counts.”She grabs my chin.“Hold still.”The stadium is packed.Last game of the season.Last time Beckett will wear Oakridge colors.That part doesn’t feel real.Maybe because Beckett has always been the quarterback.Even when I hated him.Even when I secretly watched him.Even when I told myself I didn’t care.Football and Beckett have always seemed permanent.Apparently nothing is.“Done.”Lila holds up her phone camera.The twelve is definitely crooked.“You suck at this.”“You’re welcome.”Sean appears behind us wearing enough school colors to look like a mascot exploded on him.“Cross is looking for you.”“He’s on the field.”“Exactly.”I look dow

EllaBeckett has been on the phone with Westfield for thirty-seven minutes.I know this because I am not waiting for him.I am simply sitting at my kitchen table with my chemistry book open while occasionally checking the clock.Every forty seconds.Completely different.Mom walks through the kitchen, takes one look at me, and opens the refrigerator.“You’re going to burn a hole through the wall.”“I’m studying.”“You haven’t turned the page in twenty minutes.”“It’s complicated chemistry.”“Your book is upside down.”I look down.Shit.Mom laughs.“I’m worried about him.”“I know.”“What if they don’t offer enough?”“Then he considers his other options.”“What if they offer everything?”“Then he considers his other options.”I frown.“You’re terrible at this.”“At what?”“Giving me the answer I want.”She sits across from me.“Which answer do you want?”I open my mouth.Nothing.That’s the problem.I want Beckett to get the scholarship because he’s worked for it.I want him to have c

BeckettThere is a spreadsheet on our kitchen table.I immediately want to leave.“What is that?”Dad looks up from his laptop.“College.”“No. That’s Excel.”“Sit down.”“I suddenly remembered I have homework.”Mom points at the chair.“Sit.”Apparently I’ve reached the stage of life where my future is decided by cells and columns.Terrifying.I sit.Dad turns the laptop toward me.“Westfield’s offer.”“I know what they offered.”“Do you know what it actually costs?”“Yes.”He raises an eyebrow.“Approximately.”“Exactly.”Dad starts clicking.Tuition.Housing.Meal plan.Books.Fees.Fees for things I didn’t know could have fees.“Why am I paying an activity fee?”“Because college enjoys stealing money,” Dad says.Mom smacks his shoulder.“What? It does.”Then Dad subtracts the scholarship.The number left isn’t nothing.But it’s a hell of a lot smaller.I stare at it.“We can handle that,” Dad says.Something tightens in my chest.“You shouldn’t have to.”“Beckett.”“No, seriously.