Page 11

Before I know what I’m doing, I turn back the way I came and run.
“Henley.”
Past the help desk and a gaping Margo. Through the library, my vision blurry. Chest heaving with the effort of keeping it all inside.
“Hennie, stop.”
I will not cry.
I will not cry.
I will not cry.
“Come on,” he shouts at me. “I was only joking.” Conner’s limping after me, a few steps behind.
“Henley!” He shouts my name as soon as I shove my way through the door and onto the sidewalk. Seconds later a hand closes over my shoulder and spins me around.
“Don’t touch me,” I say, shoving his hand away, my heart jammed in my throat. “Just leave me alone, Conner.”
“I’m sorry, I—” he stops, shaking his head, hands dropping to his sides. “I just wanted to talk to you.”
“Talk to me? About what?” I scoff at him. “You need to borrow my calculus notes again?”
“No—”
“Then what?” I say loudly, advancing on him, hands raised. “What could you possibly have to say to me?”
“I need a math tutor,” he says in a rush.
“What?”
He sighs, rolls his eyes. “Don’t make me say it again, Hennie. It’s embarrassing.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“Sorry.” He flashes me a grin, even while he’s rubbing the sore spot on his leg.
“You want me to tutor you?” First my notes and now he wants me to tutor him. I can feel my eyes narrow on his face. “Are you serious?”
Straightening, he nods. “Yeah,” he says cocking his head to rub his ear with his index finger. “I guess all the sleeping in class is finally catching up to me. My folks got a failure notice in the mail—if I don’t pull my grades up, my dad says no car for my birthday.”
“Poor baby,” I say, not liking the bitter tone of my own voice.
“It’s rough. I’ve been relying on my charm and good looks to get dates.” He grins at me again, and I can feel myself bending. My anger evaporating. “It’s also embarrassing to have to pick them up in your mom’s mini-van.” Still grinning, he holds up the tattered copy of Gatsby we’ve been fighting over. “So, whaddya say, Hennie? Tutor me. I’ll pay you in books?”
I look past the book in his hand, at his face. He’s gorgeous. Dark brown hair. Clear green eyes. Dimples that, when he flashes them at you, make you forget how to breathe. Every girl I know has a crush on him—except for Tess. When other girls start talking about how hot Conner Gilroy is, Tess starts making puke noises. I’ve never told her what I really think of him. How being around him makes me feel. That I’m just like the rest of them.
“Do I have something on my face?” he asks, his mouth curved into the kind of knowing smile that instantly sets my face on fire. Yeah, Conner Gilroy is gorgeous, and he absolutely knows it.
Ignoring his question and the look he’s giving me, I advance. “You’ll pay me in cash, Gilroy,” I say, stepping in close enough to touch him, the embarrassed flush threatening to erupt across my face, kept at bay through sheer force of will and a healthy dose of pride. “Ten bucks an hour—I can buy my own books.” I poke him in the chest for good measure, and his grin widens and lightens until it’s so big and bright it blinds me.
He reaches up and snags my hand before I have a chance to drop it. “Sounds like we’ve reached an accord, O’Connell,” he tells me, giving my hand a quick shake to seal the deal. “We’ll start tomorrow.”
“We can’t,” I tell him, shaking my head while I jerk my hand loose. “Tomorrow’s Friday.”
“Do you have plans?” He says it casually but he’s looking at me weird. Like he doesn’t like the idea. Probably because he’s a conceited jackass who thinks the world revolves around him.
He’s still holding my hand.