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“Nothing.” I shrugged as if I had no clue what he was talking about.
His fingers reached out, brushing mine away, and he squeezed.
“Oww.” It hurt but was lessened by the warmth I felt when his fingers grazed my skin.
“You lied.” His eyes met mine again, and I swallowed hard. Evan was like a silent storm that lurked in the distance, and you were never quite sure when it might strike next.
Batting his hand away, I hitched my bag up my shoulder and stepped around him. As I went, I said, “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.”
I didn’t look back.
* * *
“What happened?”Evan leaned over his desk and whispered.
“I already told you, it was nothing,” I hissed, keeping my eyes ahead.
“It’s not nothing.”
My head jerked around to his, and I let out an exasperated breath. “Why do you care?”
Irritation sparked in his eyes. “I don’t.”
“So back off then.” I held his glare with my own. He was exhausting. Blowing hot and cold. Pulling the concerned big brother act whenever it suited him and then ignoring me the rest of the time.
“Right, class.” The teacher clapped his hands. “Something a little different today. Data collection.”
A couple of kids upfront groaned, and Mr. Phillips shot them a silencing look. “On the whiteboard, you’ll find a list of questions I want you to ask the person sitting to your left. Record the answers, and then I have a series of tasks you need to complete using the data. Paper is due next week.”
Chairs scraped and shuffled, and I turned reluctantly to Evan who looked as happy as I felt with this arrangement.
“Okay,” I said, ignoring the storm raging in his eyes. “Should I go first?”
He nodded, dragging a hand over his face. Yeah, he didn’t want to do this either.
“Age?”
“Eighteen.”
I scribbled down the answer and read out the next question. “Birthday. Write down in numerical form.”
“Twenty-second of August.”
“Number of siblings?”
“One.”
“Living grandparents?”
His eyebrow arched. “None.”
I continued asking the questions, and Evan answered, never missing a beat. Finally done, I placed down my pen and waited.
“Birthday?”
A smug grin tugged at my lips. “Twenty-first of August.”
He glanced up at me from his paper with amusement shining in his eyes. And then asked me each question in rapid succession. I followed them on the board, counting down to the final question. Except it never came.
