Page 38 of The Infiniteness of Yesterday
She arches a blond brow. “That so?”
“Mhm,” I hum.
She gives a small shrug of her shoulders. “She might’ve mentioned it.”
“That so?” I repeat her question back to her. She shakes her head, her lips twisting with amusement.
She sighs dramatically, like she’s already done with this conversation, but amusement curls her lips. “Yeah, she might’ve asked about you.”
I push, “And what did you say?”
With her history textbook in hand she closes her locker, leaning against the metal surface. “That you burned my cookies.”
I mock-gasp. “You were supposed to take that story to your grave.”
She gives a tiny shrug. “Too late. Now, what do you want?”
“Your number,” I blurt like a loser. Clearing my throat, I hope she doesn’t notice my reddening cheeks. “Your uh sister’s number,” I amend. A flash of hurt darkens her eyes but it’s there and gone too quick for me to be sure I’ve seen it. “I … uh … wouldn’t mind yours either.”
I’m not good at this at all. Whenever I’m around Harlow, I act as if I’ve never been around a girl before and it only gets worse the more, I interact with her. I need to learn to chill out, but something about her makes me unhinged. It’s like that moment when you’re on a rollercoaster, just before it drops, that anticipation of something big about to happen and you’re bracing yourself for it.
“I’ll give you my sister’s.”
There’s a pang at being denied her number, but I know it’s my own fault for being such a dumb ass about the whole thing.
I shove my hands in my pockets. “Cool.”
She plucks a pen from her bag and grabs my hand. An electric zip crawls up my spine and when my eyes meet her wide and surprised ones. I think maybe she felt it too. Clearing her throat, she writes the number on my wrist.
“There you go. I have to get to class now.”
“Harlow?” I call after her, but she’s already walking away.
Me: Hey, this is Willa, right?
I wouldn’t be surprised if Harlow gave me the wrong number after my awkward attempt, so I figure it’s better to text with that simple question before I say anything else that’s stupid.
Willa: Um … yeah. Who is this?
I exhale in relief that it is her and not some bald, fat guy named Steve. No offense to bald, fat guys named Steve.
Me: It’s Spencer.
Willa: Ohhhh.
Spencer: I got your number from your sister. I hope that’s okay.
Willa might not want to hear from me at all, which is understandable. We don’t really know each other, but despite my crush on her younger sister I have wanted to get in contact with her after seeing her at the beach. Something has nagged at me that I need to reach out to her.
Willa: Yeah, of course. I was worried a cereal killer got ahold of it or something.
I grin in amusement at her text message which is no doubt a terrible autocorrect.
Me: Sorry to disappoint you, I’m not a cereal killer.
Willa: Autocorrect hates me. You know what I meant.
Me: Yeah, I do.
