But I would never hurt Porter like that.
So instead, I fasten my buttons.
“What's the next chapter?” I ask, fixing my attention on the assignment.
“You keep saying there's someone else, but I don't believe you,” he sighs.
“I would have met this chef by now if he were real.”
“Heisreal,” I huff. “He's just... busy.”
Olsen draws a slow steady line across my knee with his pencil.
I hold my breath, but I don’t shift away.
“Too busy foryou?” he guesses.
Ouch.
It’s uncomfortably close to the truth.
So I ignore the question.
“I'm right, aren't I? You and Porter are a one way street.”
“Stop it.”
“Okay, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“But you did.”
“I just... you're his dirty little secret, aren't you?”
“I said, shut up.”
“That's why we never see you two together.”
“Enough!” I hiss quietly.
Olsen hushes at last.
I'm sorry,he scribbles in the margin of my textbook.
And then he draws a heart.
I turn the page quickly.
???
Perhaps it’s wrong to entertain it.
I’ve side stepped the kisses and flirting for almost eighteen months now.
I mention Porter at every opportunity.
A feeble attempt at loyalty toward a long lost love.
Was it love though?
