Page 73 of Every Little Thing


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“It’s good to see you again,” I said, pulling my mind up out of the gutter. “Tell me you’re getting a break soon.”

She hung her head. “Thank god, yes. Spring break is the week after next.”

“Oh yeah? Fun plans?”

“Annabel hasn’t mentioned?” She tucked her hair back behind her ear, blushing a little as she glanced across the square to where Annabel was half-arguing, half-laughing over something together with Gwen and Kay. “We’re, um… kind of taking a vacation together. Not far, just a little getaway for the two of us.”

“Little lovebirds.”

“Look who’s talking,” she said, nodding towards Paisley. I looked away.

“C’mon.”

“You’re freer these days. So is she. It’s good to see she’s embracing putting herself out there more.”

“With some help on the braids.”

She laughed. “Um… her initial effort wasn’t, you know… it wasn’tthatbad.”

“Coming from you, that’s devastating.”

“So?” She leaned towards me, folding her arms on the table. “You and Paisley—”

“It’s nothing.”

“You came here together, didn’t you?”

“Er…” I scratched my head. “I mean, not strictly.”

She sighed, watching me for a while, and I felt like ripping my own skin off under her gaze. Maybe I needed to dive under a table or something. It was probably only a matter of time before she read my mind and said something I didn’t need to hear.

It was only a matter of time, turned out. She scratched idly at her wrist and said, “So… what is it?”

“I came here by myself, just setting up—”

“Not that. Just… where are you?”

I raised my eyebrows. “Not that far. I believe if you look really hard, you’ll find me.”

She smiled thinly. “I’ve been trying, and I haven’t found anything. I’ve wondered… for a while. Why is it like you aren’t there?”

I turned away. “Ah. Back to this.”

“You never told mewhyyou’re so afraid of admitting to your feelings for Paisley. You’re leaving and you won’t tell anyone, too.”

“I’m going to—”

“But that’s not really what gets me the most,” she said, speaking carefully. “What gets me the most is that… you aren’t… sad over leaving.”

I tensed up. “I mean—”

“But you aren’t happy, either.”

I hung my head. “So. You want to tell me what it is that I’m feeling? Let’s skip the preamble and just get to it.”

She studied me for a while before she spoke, again, carefully, measuring out each word. “Okay. I mean, I can take a guess. But I told you I’m not a mind reader. It’s just what I’m feeling.”

“Hit me.”

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