“So, you thought I was his type?”
“Well, I was sure, but…I guess not.” She shrugged, staring forward.
And that was it. A shrug. That’s all I was? I really liked this guy, and I’d just been dusted off with a shrug?
I drummed my fingers on the desk, trying really hard to focus on the legends of Zeus, but my stomach grumbled, making a fuss about my missed mid-morning snack, and nausea brought the taste of bile up to the back of my throat. “He seemed so genuine,” I turned and whispered to Emily, letting my temper get the better of me. “He walked me to every class. He was so nice, so sweet, and—” I told her about the bathroom gossip and the theatrical kiss.
Her eyes rounded into her brow. “Are you serious?”
“Yes. So what’s the deal then?”
“He has. Never. Done. That before,” she exclaimed.
“Okay? So why did he give me the speech?”
She slowly looked away. “I can not figure that boy out.”
The bell rang before I expected it to. I swallowed the last of my sentence and smiled at Emily; she was so easy to be around. At first, I thought she was a bit stuck up, but the last forty minutes suggested that might’ve just been a nasty first assumption.
I jammed my books into my bag and frowned at the elbow in my rib. “What?”
She nodded across the room. “Look.”
At the end of my gaze, David came into focus, hands wedged in pockets, shoulder on the doorframe and a very sexy grin across his lips.
“Hi,” I mouthed, looking down at my bag before he could see my cheeks change colour.
“Mm-mm.” Emily shook her head, hugging her books.
“What’s mm-mm?”
“Hm, he likes you, Ara—he’s just trying not to show you.”
“You think?” I looked back at David, now talking to my dad.
“Come on, girl. Even Mr Thompson noticed the way he was staring at you.”
“Oh no.” I hid behind my hand. “It’s the touch-my-daughter-and-you-die speech.” I wanted to melt—hide under my desk or slink away.
Emily hummed, smiling. “They’re both so gorgeous.”
“No, Emily,” I said flatly. “Only one of them is gorgeous.”
“I agree,” she said. “Your dad is so much better.”
We both laughed, but mine ended in a sigh. “I hope Dad doesn’t give David the creeps. I only just met the poor guy.”
“Nah, he’s just making the lines clear. Can you blame him?”
“Yes. He’s breaking all the rules I set out before I came here.”
“You gave your dad rules?”
I nodded.
“Okay?” Dad said loudly, patting David on the shoulder.
“I had no intentions of that, Mr Thompson,” David said, looking him right in the eye.
I watched on in horror. “Oh God, just hide me now.”
Emily laughed. “Let’s just hope you don't receive the tail-end of that lecture.”
“Exactly what I was just thinking.” She must’ve known my dad pretty well. It felt kind of strange then to know I shared him with so many other kids. I always knew that, but never experienced it firsthand before.
Dad sat back at his desk, and I chose the opportune moment, as he reached for something on the floor, to slink quietly past—sinking my neck into my shoulders.
Emily, however, shamelessly stopped in front of the desk just to tell Dad how great his lecture was today. Never mind that she wasn’t even listening. I really quite liked Emily.
“Hi, David,” I said.
He just smiled and took my bag as we walked into the corridor.
“Look, I’m so sorry. What was my dad saying to you?”
He laughed once. “You know, it’s okay, Ara. If I was your father and I saw some punk kid look at you the way I’m sure I was, I wouldn't have used words.”
We stopped walking, and I groaned, slamming my back against a row of lockers as I tried to rub the ache of mortification from my temples.
“Of course,” David continued after a short breath, “if I’d known he was your dad, I might’ve thought twice about—”
“Hanging out with me?” I dropped my hands to my sides. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you.” And so, I lost my first friend. I was in no way offended, though. I knew going to the same school as my dad would have its pitfalls. I’d accepted that.
“No—” He stepped closer to me, shaking his head. “No, Ara, I would have thought twice about staring at you that way—in front of him.” His words softened on the end.
“Oh. Okay. Well, uh, I’m sorry I didn’t mention it earlier.”
“Well, a heads-up would’ve been nice,” he said.
“Touché.” I smiled, surprised he remembered me saying that in music class.
“So?” We both said at the same time, then laughed.
“You go.”
“No, ladies first.” He bowed his head.
“Um, about before—”
“Okay, wait.” His hand came up like a stop sign; I snapped my mouth shut. “What I said before about dating?” He paused. “It was a mistake. I’m so used to having to give that speech, it just came out on auto. But I didn’t mean it for you. I was just illustrating how I don’t—I mean—I’m just not that kinda guy.” David’s fists clenched beside him. “What I meant was that I’d never date any of them—I didn’t mean that to include yo—I mean, what I'm trying to say is—” He looked directly into my eyes, and all the students in the hall seemed to disappear. “You’re not just any girl, Ara, I—” he swallowed, “—I…like you.”
Uh? What? My lungs went tight, like a softball just got lodged in my chest. I looked around, waiting for a group of kids to jump out from behind the lockers and laugh at me, screaming April Fools. Despite it not being April.
David laughed to himself then. “I’m sorry. That was very forward of me. You don’t even know me yet, and I—”
“Um, David?” I stopped him. Oh my God. I had no idea what to say. I mean, for all I knew, I had merely imagined him saying that and, at any minute, I’d wake up, still in Dad’s class, Emily beside me and a piece of paper stuck to the drool on my chin. I hugged my arms across my waist. “This is all a little bit weird.”
“I’m sorry.” He scratched his thumb across his upper lip, clearing his throat. “I get it.”