Twenty-two

Henley

2009

Conner is waiting outside my class again, falling into step with me when I walk past him, hands wrapped around the straps of his backpack, gaze trained in front of him. To anyone looking at us, it just looks like we’re walking in the same direction, but I know what he’s doing. He’s following me.

Without warning, I duck into the girl’s room, leaving him behind. Squeezing past the thick knot of girls in front of the sinks, I set my books on the wide window ledge before boosting myself up, swinging my legs up to sit in the L of the frame.

It’s always crowded between classes, but as soon as the bell rings, it’ll clear out. I close my eyes and wish for the hundredth time this week that Tess had the same lunch period. All around me, girls chatter and gossip, primp and fuss. Smoosh their lips together in the mirror and borrow each other’s mascara. But none of them look at me. In my too small shoes and donation box T-shirt, it’s like I’m not even here.

The sprint bell rings, telling everyone they have only a few minutes left to get to class and the rest of them scatter, stall doors banging closed. Shoes squeaking on tile—and suddenly it’s quiet.

I lean my head back against the wall. I haven’t been back to Conner’s since Jessica showed up on his doorstep, which is ridiculous, really. I mean, seriously—I’m surprised I don’t have to hack my way through a forest of teenage girls to his front door with a machete. And why do I even care? It’s Conner Gilroy. He’s rude and obnoxious and completely full of himself. He stole my fucking book for Christ’s sake. He’s practically blackmailing me into tutoring—

“Is this where you’ve been hiding all week?”

The sound of his voice jerks my eyes open, and I look over to find Conner no more than three feet away, leaning against one of the bathroom sinks, legs crossed at the ankles. Arms folded over his chest. Despite his easy posture, he seems tense. Angry even.

“Holy shit,” I screech, jumping down from my perch. “Are you crazy?” looking around, I’m relieved to see we’re alone but this is a girl’s bathroom in a public high school. It won’t stay that way for long. “You can’t be in here.”

“Am I crazy? Probably,” he says with a shrug. “Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not.” I shake my head and turn away from him, swiping my stack of books off the window ledge. I’m back to carrying them unless I want to put them in a pillowcase.

“I’ve tried to talk to you in class, and you ignore me.”

“So?” Books in hand, I hurry toward the door. “I always ignore you in class.”

“I’ve waited in the library for you at lunchtime all week. You haven’t showed.” He’s following me out the door and into the hallway. It’s deserted.

“And?” I say, biting into the word before I spit it out, walking as fast as I can.

“You haven’t come over.” He sounds angry again. When I don’t answer him, he continues. “Is it because of what happened last week?”

I think about Jessica and her friend, the way they whispered and laughed as I crossed Conner’s porch and hurried down the steps. The way they cooed his name when he stepped onto the porch after me. The way he leaned against the porch post, smiling at them while they giggled and flipped their hair when I took one last look before I turned the corner. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, shaking my head. “I’ve been busy.”

“Yeah.” He nods his head. “Busy avoiding me.”

That one stops me in my tracks. “I’m not avoiding you, Conner,” I say through clenched teeth. “Believe it or not, my life doesn’t revolve around you and your stupid calculus grade.”

I am avoiding him. After the way I ran off like a whipped puppy in front of Jessica, I couldn’t face him. I still can’t, and I hate him for making me do it now.

“I never said it did,” he says, folding his arms over his chest. “But we had a deal, and if you can’t hold up your end of it, then I’m going to have to find another tutor.”

My throat squeezes tight when he says it. I tell myself it’s because I’m not even close to earning the money for my book and if he finds a new tutor, I’ll never be able to afford it. It’s not because I want to spend time with him. Because I enjoy his company. Because I like him.

It’s not.

“Find a new tutor? You should totally do that,” I say, my voice loud enough to bounce down the hall. “Matter of fact, you should get one of your groupies to tutor you, I’m sure you’ll pass calculus with flying colors.”

“Groupies?” he looks at me like I slapped him in the face.

“That’s what I said,” I say, pushing the words out between clenched teeth. “Want me to spell it?”

A slow grin spreads across his face. “You’re jealous.”

My mouth falls open, and it flaps a few times while I try to push sound out of it. “Oh my god,” I finally manage to sputter. “You’re the most conceited asshole I’ve ever met in my life.”

“Again—probably,” he says, laughing at me. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re jealous. Just admit it—” He’s not laughing anymore. “you like me.”

“Fuck off,” I say, yanking the door to the library open so hard, it feels like I jerked my elbow out of joint. “And good luck passing calculus.”