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I glance at the clock hanging above the circulation desk. Mrs. Henderson, the librarian, is sitting below it, knitting. “It hasn’t been an hour.”
He shrugs. “I know you’ve got somewhere else to be.”
I blink at him, surprised he knows I volunteer on Tuesdays.
“Your room probably needs to be cleaned. Maybe there’s some homework you already did but could redo just to see if there’s—”
Holden shuts up when I grab his essay off the table and shove it in my backpack, rough enough to make it wrinkle. More so when I push my own work on top of it. I stand and sling my backpack over one shoulder. It lands with a heavy thump against my spine, exacerbating my irritation.
“I’ll get it back to you tomorrow,” I say, then start striding toward the double doors that lead out of the library and into the hallway.
My body weight slams into the bar, shoving the door open with enough force it clangs when it swings back into place. I stomp down the hallway, unable to find it in myself to care.
Steps sound behind me, echoing off the linoleum floor, and Ihatehow my traitorous heart picks up double time in response.
“No rush.”
I don’t look over at the figure easily keeping pace beside me. The hallway is empty besides us. There’s no one around to stare or speculate. “There is. The sooner I do, the sooner this little arrangement is over. That’s what you want, right?”
“I never said that.”
Holden’s voice is measured and calm, a stark contrast to the fact I’m basically speed-walking to shorten our interaction.
“Whatever.”
We walk side by side down the empty, locker-lined hallway, and it’s too similar to the fantasies I used to entertain. Whenwe were younger, I’d picture something exactly like this. Me and him in high school. Hanging out, even if we weren’t dating.
It’s a special sort of painful—experiencing something you wanted but has turned distorted. This isn’t how I thought it might happen.
Holden and I aren’t dating. We’re not even friends anymore. A teacher arranged this; he didn’t even ask me for help himself.
“What are you getting out of it?”
He speaks right as we reach the doors that lead out to the student parking lot. A gust of cool air replaces the heat of indoors.
“What?”
“This paper. What are you getting out of it? Extra credit? College recommendation? What’s in it foryou, Cassia? Or are you really that selfless?”
I swallow. “Are you calling me selfless? Or heartless? Maybe I just wanted to help another student out.”
“Another student? Or me?”
Damn him for always knowing which questions to ask. Which questions I don’t want to answer. Mrs. Golden told me it was him before I agreed, but I’m not going to admit to that.
“Finally!”
I look away from Holden at Maggie. She’s easy to spot in the parking lot that’s close to empty, leaning against the side of my car and wearing a scowl that disappears when she sees who’s standing next to me.
“Hey, Holden.” Maggie flips her hair in a flirty move I’d look ridiculous doing. My younger sister manages to pull it off effortlessly.
“Hey, little Nolan.”
My parents stuck with the flower theme for their first two children, then abandoned the idea when the twins were born.But despite the fact magnolias are also flowers, I’ve never heard Holden call Maggieflower.
It’s stupid—how much it matters to me. Yet another thing Holden does that shouldn’t affect me, but somehow consumes me.
Maggie preens like he paid her a compliment before turning her gaze to me. “What took forever? I’ve been waiting out here for like twenty minutes.”
