Page 7 of The Heart That Breaks
“Mine too,” he says.
“Right.”
“It’s true.”
I give him a look of disbelief. “You’re a shining example of how to excel at everything you do. How does that help you not get noticed?”
“That doesn’t mean I’m in it for the spotlight.”
At the end of the hall, he opens the door for me, and we head through the covered archway that leads from Building One to Building Two.
A group of football players and cheerleaders stand in the middle. A dozen pairs of shocked gazes turn in our direction, as if they’ve been pulled there by a magnet.
I stiffen beneath the attention and start to walk faster. A hand on my shoulder, Nathan’s hand, slows my pace. He pulls me into the curve of his arm, and we weave through the crowd that way, me too stunned to do anything other than move like a statue being relocated from one spot to another.
He doesn’t remove his hand until we’re through the entrance to the other building. My shoes squeak against the hard marble floor, and it takes me a few seconds to find the words to say, “Let me guess. You have an ex-girlfriend out there you were trying to make jealous.”
“Partly right. Yes, to the ex. No to making her jealous.”
I put a body’s width between us. “Human beings are so predictable.”
“How’s that?”
“The motive thing. Knew you had one.”
“Actually, I didn’t plan that.”
“And you expect me to believe you?”
“Whether you do or not, it’s true.”
We’ve reached the door to my French 2 Class. “All right,” I say. “Glad I could be of service.”
I step in front of him to head through the classroom door. He stops me with a hand on my arm, his eyes, those ridiculously light blue eyes, serious now when he says, “I’m sorry.”
“Just admit it,” I say, even as I want him to deny it again.
But this time he doesn’t, his voice apologetic. “She dumped me for my best friend.”
“And you were hoping she would mind seeing you with me? You picked the wrong girl for accomplishing that.”
He drops his hand. “Have you ever looked in the mirror?”
“Every morning when I brush my teeth,” I quip.
“You’re really pretty, Ann-Elizabeth. Has no other guy ever told you that?” Tosay the truth would be too embarrassing.Because, actually, no other guy has.
The one minute warning bell rings. “You’re going to be late for your class, Nathan.”
“I’ll tell the teacher I was talking to a pretty girl,” he says, and then turns to sprint off down the hall.
I know it’s stupid, but for a long time after I’ve sat down at my desk, I can’t wipe the smile from my face.
*
Nathan
I HAVE NO idea why I picked today to talk to Ann-Elizabeth Casteel.
