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Probably.
See, this is why I don’t let myself get close to anyone. Problems come with that. It’s so much easier just keeping to myself.
Dad leaves the house before I do and I dash back into my bathroom, grabbing a hair tie and pulling my hair up into a high ponytail, glaring at myself in the mirror the entire time. Hating myself for wanting to change. I don’t bother putting on mascara like I’d planned. Instead, I brush my teeth, grab my stuff and leave the house, walking with determined steps toward campus.
I’m running a little later than normal and I stop short in the open doorway of my English class, surprised to see Arch is already sitting in the desk directly behind mine, having a conversation with Mr. Winston.
It’s a miracle. The bell hasn’t even rung yet.
Arch notices me the second I step into the classroom, his eyes lighting up, following my every move as I approach, despite Winston still talking to him. Arch keeps up the conversation, sitting up straighter as I settle into my desk, unzipping my backpack in my lap and pulling out my things.
He tugs on the end of my ponytail, his fingers brushing across the back of my neck, and I quickly whip around, studying him in surprise.
“Happy Birthday to my favorite person.” Arch smiles and all I can do is stare mutely back at him. As if I’ve lost all ability to speak. His smile fades and he rests his forearms on the desk, leaning closer as his voice lowers. “You okay?”
I nod slowly, touched he called me his favorite person. Touched even more that he would ask about my well-being. He knows the truth of this day and I’m glad he checked in without blatantly mentioning what happened. “I’m great,” I say, breathless.
His smile returns, fainter this time, concern lighting his blue eyes. “You sure about that?”
“It’s just another day, right?” I turn away from him, pulling a pen out of my backpack and setting it on top of my notebook. Trying to act normal, though I can feel his eyes on me. Cataloging my every move.
“Not really,” he finally says, his deep voice causing me to pause. “It’s special—the day you were born. And you’re eighteen now.”
My gaze locks with his and he’s watching me with this intensity I can feel down to my bones. “I am.”
He leans even closer toward me, his voice low when he confesses, “I can’t stop thinking about yesterday.”
The bell rings before I can respond and Winston is already talking. Taking roll like usual, as if he gets a thrill from calling out our names. I offer up a weakherewhen he says my name first, still not looking away from Arch.
Only when Winston starts actually lecturing do I turn and face forward, my mind anywhere else but on what the teacher is talking about. And when I feel Arch wind my hair around his finger, I know he’s thinking about the same thing that I am.
Me. And him.
Together.
* * *
We walk togetherto the admin building because we always do and it doesn’t feel like we’re causing any sort of fuss. No one is paying attention to us anyway, and I prefer that. Even though it’s not Arch’s style.
In the not-so-distant past he always seemed to enjoy being the center of attention. I used to find his antics so annoying and completely over the top.
Now I feel like I’ve got him figured out—well, not completely but somewhat.
“I got you something,” he says as he rushes forward to hold the door open for me.
I murmur a thank you as I walk past him, pleased when he rushes to make sure he’s walking beside me as we head for the admin office. “What did you get me?”
“It’s a surprise,” he says with all of that quiet confidence I wished I had even an ounce of.
I hate surprises. That’s what happened when Mom died six years ago. A complete surprise. Totally unexpected.
Totally awful.
We both stop in front of the closed office door and I turn toward him, my shoulders falling. “Just tell me what it is.”
He’s frowning. “No way. Not like it’s a bad surprise, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
With a rough sigh, I push the door open, Arch trailing right behind me and I come to a stop when I see what’s sitting on top of the desk we sit at.
