Bastian clears his throat and pushes his glasses back up his nose. “Cheer up, guys. Allow me to present to you the …” He brandishes his hand across the flaps as he opens them as if he’s presenting an award to all of us. “Habit Breaker!”
Emory snorts in the desk across from me. “I love it,” he says as we gaze at the decorated display board that has all of our names written on it. I don’t need to look at him to know that he’s being sarcastic.
“I’m glad you think so,” Bastian says. “Because you’re the first habit we’re going to break.”
“Damn, harsh,” Trish says between a mouthful of pizza.
Emory folds a slice of pepperoni in half and takes a bite, seemingly unaffected by this news. “Lay it on me,” he says a moment later.
Bastian uncaps a permanent marker and draws a circle around the words he’d written below Emory’s name: serial dater.
“Our notorious serial dater, Mr. Emory Underwood, has struck again, I’m afraid.” Bastian turns to face us as he paces the small area between the circle of desks. I’m reminded of an over-zealous prosecutor in a prime time cop drama.
“Like hell I have,” Emory says, slinking down in his desk as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. “I haven’t dated anyone in a while. I’ve been an upstanding member of this group lately.”
Bastian’s lips press together, and he shakes his head. A flicker of apprehension crawls up my skin, but I shake it away. Emory’s business shouldn’t matter to me. Still, when Bastian taps a finger to his lips, I can’t help but cling to every word he says.
“Apparently, Emory promised to take a girl to dinner for her birthday,” he tells us as a group before narrowing his eyes on the perpetrator. “And when she called you two days ago to confirm, you bailed on her.”
Emory doesn’t even flinch. “That doesn’t count.”
“I’d argue that it does count,” Bastian says. “It absolutely counts. You made a promise for a date and then you bailed, knowing full well that it would hurt her. She told me all about it in biology.”
“And what she didn’t tell you,” Emory says, with practiced slowness in his voice, “Was that she sat next to me in AP anatomy for a good two weeks, complaining over and over and over again about how she had no plans for her birthday and how I should take her out just as friends.” He takes another bite of pizza. “This pity party went on for weeks, Bast. Even during our dissection class, I couldn’t cut open the shark’s brain without her bitching about how boring it would be if she stayed home for her birthday. I had to agree to have dinner with her just so she’d let us finish the group project.”
A little of the seriousness fades from Bastian’s rigid psychologist expression. “Regardless, you made a promise, and you should try to keep it. The least you could have done was offer her an apology and try to make things better.”
Emory shakes his head. “That wasn’t a promise, that was coercion.”
“Still, regardless of this current incident, you still have a habit that we need to break.” Bastian turns toward the board and uncaps his marker. “Therefore, I am sentencing you to one week of wearing that same outfit every single day.”
I lift an eyebrow, wondering if he’s joking. His expression remains serious as he leans forward, writing the words on the board below Emory’s name. “You have a problem with dating one girl for longer than a day, so we’re going to break the habit of needing to change things.”
“Fair enough,” Emory says with a smile. “I’ll go along with this plan, but just because I can tell it makes you really happy.”
Bastian ignores Emory’s comments and turns back to the group. “Isla, you’re next.”
My blood runs cold. What could he possibly sentence me to do for a week? “Go easy on me please,” I say.
Bastian’s head tilts to the side. “No worries, Isla. You’ve made such a great improvement lately, so there’s no need to punish you. However … word has it that you’re scared to start dating again, and we all know that dating after heartbreak is the only way to fully heal.”
“Are you making me get a boyfriend?” I say it like I’m joking, but I’m actually a little scared.
“The opposite, actually. Your assignment is to go on a meaningless date. I think a date to the homecoming dance would be the perfect scenario.”
“Nice,” Trish says, nodding. “Can I come too, just to see how terribly that works out?” I glare at her, and she smiles, waving a hand at me. “I’m just playing. You’ll do fine.”
“What exactly does meaningless mean to you?” I ask Bastian, who has his back toward me while he writes my assignment on the board.
“It’s very simple, Isla. You just go to the dance with a date who you don’t have a crush on. That way you can learn to spend quality time with a guy and not make it mean anything. And if he doesn’t call you back the next day, you won’t be hurt. This is all about breaking habits.”
“You’re missing a huge thing,” I say, holding up a finger. “It’s not like I can just snap my fingers and have a date. I kind of need to be asked out first.”
Ciara whirls on me from the next desk over. “Girl, you can ask a guy out. This isn’t the twenties.”
My eyes go wide, and I shake my head. “That is so not happening. I spend the majority of my day making sure I don’t embarrass myself and asking a random stranger on a date would be torture.” I draw in a deep breath and let it out in a huff. “It’s cruel and unusual, Bastian. You can’t make me do it.”
“I’ll take her.”