“You don’t recognize me?”
Her gaze moved over my face.
Slow.
Careful.
Searching.
Then she shook her head.
“No.”
Flat.
Certain.
Impossible.
“You’re telling me you don’t remember me?”
Her arms crossed, but not in fear. More like she was planting herself in place.
“I’m telling you I don’t,” she said. “And I think I’d remember someone who looks like you.”
Fair.
Didn’t change anything.
“You sat in the back row of Mr. Hanley’s class,” I said. “Always had your notebook open. Blue pen. Never black. You hated black ink because you said it made everything look too final.”
Her expression changed.
Not much.
But I saw it.
A flicker.
Then it was gone.
“I think you have me confused with someone else,” she said carefully.
I shook my head. “No. I don’t.”
Her eyes cooled. “You just listed details about my high school, so yeah… I’m a little concerned.”
“Yeah,” I muttered. “You should be.”
That didn’t help.
“At least you’re honest,” she said.
That pulled the faintest smirk out of me.
Didn’t expect that.
The Felicity I remembered used to do that too. Toss humor into the middle of a tense moment just to see if she could make me break.
