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"So I just figured—"

"So cool actually," she says, relieving me of my stupidity. She's either choosing to ignore my spiral or—and I fucking pray—she's completely unaware of it. "We extracted DNA from strawberries. It was awesome."

"To see if it matched the crime scene?" I manage to throw back, somehow composed again.

"No." She rolls her eyes, fighting a smile. "Paternity test. The baby blueberry was looking a little purple, if you know what I mean."

We both laugh, and the awkwardness drifts away.

Lenny has that way of doing that—making me feel calm. Seen.

I stop first, giving myself a moment of her still chuckling to get lost in the dimple that forms on her cheek.

"Lenny," I eventually say, no humor in my tone this time.

Her eyes find mine, her smile fading.

"Is this… okay? You know—me stopping here?"

Her expression softens, her throat moving before she speaks. "Yeah, it's okay."

I shove my hands into the pockets of my jeans to wipe the sweat from my palms. "Cool."

The word sits between us like it means more than it should—because it might.

For a second, neither of us moves. The hallway buzzes around us—lockers slamming, sneakers squeaking against the linoleum, a group of girls laughing by the stairwell.

But it's all background noise to this moment.

Suddenly, Lenny shifts her backpack higher on her shoulder. She looks past me like she's trying to decide if she needs to leave before she's late to her next class. And it takes me no time at all to realize I'd rather be the one late than to watch her walk away.

"Where you headed?" I ask.

She smiles—small and apologetic—nodding in the opposite direction. "I've got English."

In perfect timing, the first bell rings, and Lenny flinches at the sound, disappointment flooding her face.

Thank God.

"Can I walk you?"

The corners of her lips tug upward, and I stare at them, waiting to answer.

"Don't you have biology?" she asks, pointing behind her.

She instantly reacts to the fact that she just admitted she knows my schedule too, her jaw tightening as mine does the opposite.

"Mr. Jalinski might be mad," she adds.

"Nah, it's fine." I wave her off, slowly turning to face the direction she's headed, our shoulders barely touching. "He's Coach Drake's best friend. He'll let it slide."

She shakes her head grinning. "You really are some god around here, aren't you?"

My lips turn down. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

She rolls her eyes playfully, and I take the first step down the hallway.

She follows, and after a few more, turns to me. "Thanks for stopping."