Cupcake Thief: …
Emma: I’m waiting.
Cupcake Thief: Cupcake, don’t do this to me… I thought we were gonna be magician buddies?
Emma: Still waiting.
I stifled a laugh and scooted to the edge of my seat in anticipation. It was stupid, and I felt like such a dork, but there was something compelling about texting the cupcake-stealing magician I’d met.
Three little dots appeared to show Finn was typing before disappearing. Long seconds passed while I sat stupidly staring at the cracked screen in my hand and sipping on coffee. Finally, those three little dots appeared again with a vengeance.
Cupcake Thief: You’re baking me crazy, but I will stop at muffin to get that brownie, Cupcake.
I snorted into my cup, and little drops of coffee flew over the edge as I clutched my phone. Some students at the table next to me glanced over, but they quickly dismissed me as the stupid girl who didn’t know how to consume liquids correctly.
I was too busy watching the dots that said Finn was still typing to care.
Cupcake Thief: God, I hate myself for doing that. Transfer the brownie points to my account, then delete all evidence pls.
Emma: Screenshotted, printed, and framed. +10 points added to your account.
A new text popped up almost instantly.
Cupcake Thief: Worth it.
I was smiling so hard my cheeks ached, and I flipped the phone over a few timesin my hand from restlessness.
See? I could totally make friends. Noah didn’t know what he was talking about.
But I warned myself to be careful, because texting Finn worked the butterflies up just as much as talking to Noah did.
CHAPTER22
A Storm
The restof the week flew by uneventfully, and by some miracle my group survived our project in Slade’s class. I did my best to shove the memory of that disastrous presentation to the back of my mind where I would never have to relive it again.
Let’s just say Blaise and I would never be BFFs.
Teresa and I spent some quality time watching my favorite cooking show on Netflix Tuesday night—Baking with Babushka—but she’d made a new friend from her soccer team and I barely saw her the rest of the week. I didn’t seeanyof Noah since he was off being a big hotshot consultant up in Seattle, and it was a decidedly lonely week. I spent most of my free time studying, practicing piano, or hanging out with Scott at the coffee cart, and evenhecommented on how unpopular I was.
Mr. Everton called with a new catering job for Saturday, and I pounced on the opportunity, happy I’d be back on buffet duty. While van unloading was an honorable calling, I wasn’t too proud to admit it just wasn’t for me.
Noah called me once from the Emerald City, but he wasn’t really the chatty type, and I didn’t want to put my foot in my mouth, so our phone call was short and sweet. He told me he’d be back in town Friday evening, and as soon as I saw his smiling face outside my dorm room, I took it upon myself to drag him to Teresa’s soccer game.
He came willingly, and he even traded in his blazer for a cardinal-red sweater.
I tried not to stare.
“We don’t have to stay long,” I said to my trusty soccer buddy as I tugged him toward the stands. “Just enough for me to see Teresa run around a bit so I can be a supportive roommate and all that jazz.”
“I don’t mind going to her game.” Noah’s grip tightened on my hand, and he sounded amused. He kept walking at a casual pace, no matter how much I tried to pull him along faster. “I told you I like soccer.”
That was right. He even played, which was way more than I did.
I pulled Noah along behind me until we reached the bleachers of the student section. Teresa was standing around by the goal near us, and I tried waving to get her attention.
“Clouds are rolling in,” Noah said, and he gazed up at the greying sky as we settled into the third row of bleachers. “Looks like rain.”
