MAKE OVER

CHAPTER SIX

"And then I—"

"Jumped into the pool with him, and the two of you spent the rest of the night quoting your favorite movies. Which happen to be the same."

I shoot Matthew a killer glare and pop the rest of my chicken finger into my mouth.

He adjusts his Bill Nye the Science Guy for President t-shirt and cocks an eyebrow. "What? You've told that story almost every day for the past two weeks. When are you going to do something about it?"

"Like what, ask him on a date?"

"Why not?"

"Because he is Dalton friggin' Gray and I'm...me."

Matthew folds his hands on the table and squares his shoulders. "Are you kidding me? Dalton passes by this very table which you sit at every day and spouts some stupid movie line to you. He yells recommendations as you're getting in your car every afternoon. Don't you think he would enjoy watching a movie with you?"

I open my mouth and close it again, pushing around the clump of mashed potatoes on my tray before sliding it aside. "Do you really think I could ask him and not make a complete fool of myself?"

Matthew sits back and says, "Don't make me do this for you."

My eyes widen, and I shake my head. "Don't you dare, Matthew Reynolds. I will beat the crap out of you. And you know I can," I hiss across the table.

"Then I suggest you beat me to it. Because I'll gladly take this butt whoopin' if you don't," Matthew says with a smirk, nodding toward the cluster of the round tables, where Dalton crosses the cafeteria. Coming right this way.

"You wouldn't," I say, but I know I'm wrong. Matthew isn't scared of anything.

"Watch me." He lifts his hand in Dalton's direction. "Hey, Gray!" he shouts, and I grab his wrist.

"What are you..." I look up as Dalton reaches the booth, grin, and drop Matthew's arm. "Hey, Dalton, what's up...buttercup," I finish lamely, closing my eyes and wishing to melt into the seat.

Matthew snorts and Dalton sits next to him. "Not much, just coming to ask you if you'd made time to see Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark yet. It's got excellent reviews, and, well...you admitted your love for those books the other day."

I'd watched that movie with Matthew when it came out on DVD in November, and it was good, but none of that has happened yet. "No, I haven't," I say, chewing the inside of my cheek.

Matthew clears his throat. "Well, I have an idea," he pipes up, and I kick him under the table.

"Do you want to go see it this Friday night?" I blurt, shocked at the words that fall out of my mouth like rushing water through a broken dam.

Dalton tilts his head to the side. "Are you asking me on a date?"

"No! I mean, we're friends. A date that—"

"Oh, well...I'd really like to have gone on a date with you."

My heart pounds in my chest and my stomach flutters. "You would...yeah cool. It's a date."

"Friday it is. Oh, and before I go, here's today's quote: Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries."

I roll my eyes. "You know I'm in band, right? Monty Python and the Holy Grail. You have to do better than that, Gray."

"Musically talented, smart, funny, and cute; you're way out of my league." He winks and walks to the table with his friends.

"Oh. My. God. Did he just say that I'm—"

"Funny. He sure did. Twisted sense of humor."

I whack Matthew on his forearm, wearing the biggest smile.