Page 69 of Heartbeat

“He shouldn’t have done that.”

“I’m starting to think I shouldn’t have brought it up actually.”

“No! Look.” He held me by the arm to make me stop and turn to him.

“What?” I wasn’t annoyed. Not really. I just didn’t understand why he couldn’t let it go.

“You’re right; he is my best friend, and trust me, I know he can really suck at making a good first impression. But I don’t want you to think that that’s who he is—”

“Why though?”

“I don’t want you to think that I—that the fact that we’re friends means—”

“You think I would judge you because of him?”

“Well, maybe not judge—”

“Or him, for that matter?”

“Wouldn’t you?” he asked, rather surprised.

“No. Listen, I don’t know him. All I have to go on is a few very poor attempts at being funny and one lame-ass approach that may or may not have been to apologize.”

It sounded better than saying I didn’t give two shits about his best friend.

“I don’t know enough to judge,” I assured him. “And I certainly wouldn’t extend whatever judgment I had to you.”

“You wouldn’t? Because, you know I would never—”

“Call me psycho?”

He nodded.

“I do.”

“How?”

“You really want to know?”

“Of course I do.”

“I can just tell. Ever since I first saw you… You looked—”

“Yes?”

“Kind.”

“Kind?” he repeated, intrigued.

“Yes. Even around him, you still looked kind. So you can just relax, honest.”

“Was it at the library?” he asked, resuming walking again. “The first time you saw me?”

“Not the library, no.”

“In class?”

“Nope. Before that.”

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