Page 45 of Molly's Mr. Wrong
After spending the better part of two hours in the warehouse tackling essay organization exercises and then trying to apply them to his own assignment, he decided that he needed to see the master. He told himself it was solely because he needed help with his English—not because he was recalling little things about Molly that kind of turned him on.She’d drop him off and then go get laid. Right.
She seemed surprised to see him when he knocked on her door, and even though it wasn’t her office hours, she waved him in.
“Sorry I’m not here during the official time. I have to close the store tonight, so I took a chance that you could squeeze me in.”
And was it his imagination, or had her expression shifted when he said “squeeze me in”? He needed to get a grip here. He was going all schoolboy lustful. It didn’t help that Molly’s cheeks seemed pinker than usual. Was it possible that her thoughts were mirroring his?
“I don’t see a kitten...”
Finn smiled in spite of himself. “Buddy is with his other dad.”
“Ah. What’s going on?” she asked, motioning for him to sit across from her. The desk served as a nice big barrier and Molly was staying on her side of it.
“Take a guess.”
“Organization.”
“Got it in one. I was wondering if you have any...I don’t know...tricks or anything to help me wrangle this beast? My thoughts don’t come out in neat categories.”
“You’re not alone there.”
“Good to know.”
“Have you tried the note card approach?”
She seemed to think that he knew what she was referring to. He did not. “What is that?” She pressed her lips together and he said, “Let me guess...this is a technique I should have learned in high school...or earlier.”
“Good possibility.”
“I kind of marched to my own drummer back then. You know...when I passed my classes because I was breathing.”
“I would hope you had to do more than breathe,” Molly said.
“I handed in all my work.”
“There you go.”
He leaned back in the chair, enjoying the way rising color was brightening her cheeks, even as she kept her gaze direct and no-nonsense. “Tell me about this method that I blew off years ago.”
“You write down one idea at a time on note cards, then arrange them according to categories. You can use something as simple as Who, What, Why, Where, When. Get some three-by-five note cards and write down one sentence on each one. Then organize and write an outline.”
“Huh.” He gave her a look. “I kind of remember something like this from junior high. I believe I instantly disregarded and fired off a paper from the hip.”
“I imagine it was a good one, too.”
He smiled at her wry retort. “I’ll give this method a go—for real, this time. Thanks.”
He got to his feet, but before he could head to the door, Molly said, “You know, if your brain isn’t wired to learn in the way you’re being taught, there’s a good chance you’re going to tune out.”
Finn gave a slow nod. “That could explain a lot.” As could total lack of interest in anything that wasn’t sports.
Molly’s mouth quirked up at one corner as she idly tapped her pencil on her desk. “That’s why dyslexic kids sometimes become discipline problems.”
“I was an angel.”
She smiled at his deadpan reply. “Then someone was spreading a lot of lies about you.”
“I was a victim of circumstances.”
