“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say self-consciously.
“Shut it,” Audrey teases. “I know you like him.”
“Do not.”
“Then why are you blushing?”
“I’m not blushing.”
“Um, yes you are. But no worries. Matt won’t notice.”
Audrey yells upstairs for Matt to meet us in the car, then pushes past me. I follow her to the driveway. Once we’re inside the car but before Matt joins us, I ask Audrey in a whisper: “Why won’t Matt notice me?”
Confused, Audrey stares blankly at me.
“You just said that,” I say. “That Matt won’t notice me blushing.”
“Oh my god, Daisy, don’t be so sensitive!” Audrey says. “I didn’t mean that he won’t notice you. I meant that he hardly notices anything these days. The other day he asked me where his hat was. He was wearing it.”
“Maybe he has something on his mind,” I offer, hoping Audrey will elaborate.
Audrey rolls her eyes. “Don’t we all,” she says. I want to ask what’s on her mind, and about a zillion other questions, but Matt opens the door and climbs in the backseat.
“Hey,” he says when I turn around to look at him. He looks like a model for Levi’s in his perfectly faded jeans and maroon-and-gray-striped hoodie.
“Hi, Matt,” I say back. “I like your sweatshirt.”
“Thanks,” he says, smiling a little. “Cool shirt.”
Audrey stifles a laugh and puts the car in reverse.
“Yes, we all look awesome,” she says. “Now let’s go. We’re going to miss the previews.”
I face front in the passenger seat, take a deep breath, and smile to myself. Glancing down at my shirt, I can’t help but give myself props for choosing to wear the cuter outfit. Even if the top button on my jeans is digging into my stomach.
The movie is a comedy, but I don’t laugh much. Instead, I listen to Matt. He only reacts to the smart jokes, not the stupid ones that everyone else seems to find hilarious. But when something strikes him as funny, it’s really hard for me not to smile. His laughter starts low and gets higher the longer it lasts. It’s easy and warm, like his mom’s chocolate-chip cookies, and it makes me want to snuggle up to him. It’s the perfect sound.
In contrast, Audrey’s breath sounds strangely labored. I wonder whether she’s got the flu or something, with the barfing at lunch and everything.
“Do you feel okay?” I whisper in Audrey’s ear.
“Shh,” she says. “I’m watching the movie.”
I look over at Matt and he’s looking at me, and I’m zapped by a jolt of electricity. I conjure up my flirtiest smile, then sit back and resume my popcorn-tub war with Audrey.
After the show we head to the food court because somehow half of the world’s largest container of popcorn simply wasn’t enough for Audrey. Matt and I find a place to sit while Audrey buys pretzel bites. We awkwardly look anywhere but at each other until I can’t take it anymore.
“Do you like Mr. Jefferson?” I ask.
“Yeah, he’s okay,” he says. “You?”
“He seems pretty cool.”
Pause.
“I didn’t tell Audrey that you took her phone,” I say, instantly feeling silly for bringing it up. I doubt he even remembers.