Page 34 of The Pinkie Pact

"I like to think so."

There was a pause, and I started to move the cart, thinking it was probably time to end this little chat.

"Hey, I've been meaning to ask you if you have my number?" he said, surprising me.

"Oh, no, I don't. Do I need it or something?" I asked.

He chuckled and hung his head down. "Ouch."

"I'm just joking," I said.

And when his eyes captured mine again, I felt that little shock. Pushing it down, trying to ignore it, I asked him for his number and put it in my phone.

"Just in case, you know," he said.

"Right. Okay. Thanks." And now, it was really time for me to move along. "Okay. Well, I should get back to work now."

He nodded. "Right. Well, see you later. Thanks for stopping to talk to me."

"Mm-hmm. Good luck studying."

"Appreciate that. I'll take all the luck I can get."

I pushed the cart away and stopped two rows behind where Kieran was sitting. Grabbing the few books that needed to be put away there, I went into the aisle. I couldn't resist peeking through the shelves to see if I could spot him, expecting to see his head down studying again.

But instead, I was met with his profile as he stared out the window, a small frown on his face. As I studied his beautiful features, that chiseled jawline, I wondered what he was thinking about so intently. Was he thinking he needed a new place to study?

With a deep sigh, he finally turned back toward his desk and sunk his head down into his hands, making me want to reach out and give him a hug.

But of course, I could never do that. So I let out my own sigh and moved on.

Pancake Zone

Sky

Saturday morning, despite our late night out on Friday, Kara and I both managed to drag our asses out of bed after snoozing for way too long. All we had time to do was brush our teeth and put on clothes.

So at six-thirty, we didn't exactly look our best or smell our best when we entered the church only a few blocks away from our dorm. But hey, we had made it. And I was super happy that Kara had agreed to join me.

She said she'd actually been here before with her mom several times, and sure enough, when we entered into the kitchen area for volunteers, someone shouted out her name.

"Well, if it isn't Kara Emerson, the good senator's daughter," said a gray-haired woman as she hurried toward us, wiping her hands on her well-used apron. "I remember you. But do you remember me?"

"Um, sure," Kara said.

But the woman saw right through her. "It's okay if you don't, love. I'm Delia. And girls, am I happy to see you. We are extremely short-staffed today. So I hope you don't mind putting in some hard work this morning."

"That's what we're here for," I said.

After I introduced myself, Delia put me to work at a large stove overseeing a huge pancake griddle. I'd never made pancakes before, but she said to just pour a ladle full of the batter out and flip them when they started to bubble.

The bowl of batter was gigantic, and I was a little overwhelmed. I didn't have much experience with cooking, and the last thing I wanted to do was serve raw or burnt pancakes to people.

I had no idea what Kara had been assigned to do. I didn't look up from my griddle. At first, I thought it was too early to flip them when they started to bubble, but then after burning one, I found out that was the perfect time to do it. Delia certainly knew what she was talking about.

After a little while, I found my zone, and I was pouring, flipping, and sliding them onto the big platter next to the stove like a pancake-making machine.

Yes, girl.

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