AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The way he says it pools up low and warm in the pit of my stomach like molten fireflies, and I have to do everything I can to keep from growing wings and sailing out the window.
He may have picked me for this project, but I just picked him for everything else.
Chapter Five
ABBY—THE LAST DAY OF SENIOR YEAR
“Anticlimactic, if you ask me,” Brooke says as we trudge back into the building after the final lunch break of our high school career.
“I liked it,” I offer gently. “What’s the matter with hitting up one of our favorite spots?”
“This is what I was talking about the other day.” She chuckles and looks at me sideways. “If we were adventurous, we’d have treated ourselves to something out of the ordinary. Like, maybe go over to that new place on McClain Street. Shake things up.”
“McClain is on the far side of town. Good luck getting over there, having lunch, and getting back in an hour.”
“Heaven forbid we skip part of a class on the last day!” She puts her hand to her chest in a sarcastic gasp. “You’ve already got your scholarship locked up—what are they going to do, take it away?”
We round the corner into the main hallway, and I pull to such an abrupt stop that my shoes squeak.
“Woah, hey!” The guy I’ve nearly run straight into puts up his hands and ducks backward a half step. I go to say I’m sorry, but as I look up into his face, the words die on my tongue. Of all the people in Brightwood High, I’ve almost bowled over Hunter Collins. All the blood drains out of my face, and the world gets a little gray around the edges.
“Sorry,” I manage to squeak out, and he sidles back on his heels to steady me.
“All good,” he says by way of accepting my apology, but he’s scrutinizing my face so hard I worry I might pass out from the power of his attention. “I know you. We had classes together back in the day. Amy, right?”
“Abby,” I correct him, amazed he even got that close.
“Right. Brains.” He snaps his fingers then stuffs his hands loosely in his pockets. “Penelope project. Mrs. Harbison was nuts for it.”
“I got a scholarship,” I blurt and can almost kick myself for saying something so awkward. Amazingly, he laughs like I’ve just said something genuinely charming.
“Me too. Where’s yours?”
“Danvers University in Houston. I’m going to get a journalism degree.”
“Full ride, I bet?” He sticks out his toe and taps the front of my shoe in a move so casually friendly you’d think we’d been chatty on a regular basis.
“Yeah,” is all I can manage to say.
“Looks like I’m going to be down in Texas myself.”
“Danvers?” I ask, more eagerly than I would have liked. It’s like I can taste the toenail polish on the foot I keep sticking in my mouth, but he’s so far from awkward, it’s like we’re on two different planets.
“Danver’s football team is for crap,” he says with a blithe wrinkling of his nose. “I’m going to Strickland over in Dallas.”
“Best football college in the country,” one of his buddies said, clearly envious that Brightwood’s star quarterback continues on his path to success.
“That’s great,” I say, not knowing or caring anything about the sport beyond the fact that Hunter plays it.
“Anyway.” Hunter casts an easy glance at the battalion of beefy buddies he always leads around and nods his head. “We should get to class before the bell rings.”
Those shocking green eyes find mine again, and he winks.
“Can’t be late on our last day.” With that, the whole pack breezes past, and Hunter calls merrily back over his shoulder. “Good luck with the journalism, Brains.”
The fact that he remembers me this time almost makes my knees buckle and spots float at the corners of my vision.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Brooke says to my right, and I suddenly realize that I’m not the only person in the entire world. Blinking away the stars in my eyes, I turn to her with the goofiest grin on my face.
