Page 19

Finally, it’s five o’clock, and I can’t take it anymore. I shut Henley’s textbook, pushing it toward her. “You probably have to go now,” I say. Tomorrow, we’re meeting at the library.
“Oh,” she sits back in her seat and nods. “I—” She looks at the table, chewing on her bottom lip before looking straight at me. “Can we go back up to your room?”
I freeze. Like a deer, caught in someone’s headlights.
Before I can say something stupid, Henley lifts her gaze and settles it over my shoulder. “Just for a few minutes.” She blushes. Not her usual bright red flush, but a soft pink that colors her cheeks and throat. “There’s this book I was looking at and I…”
My mom pipes up behind me. “Of course,” she says because she has absolutely no idea what’s going on in my brain right now. “Conner, take Henley on up to your room.” My mom drops her hand on my shoulder. “I’ll come get you when dinner's ready.”
“Alright,” I say, barely managing to get the word out before she’s out of her seat and bolting up the back stairs.
As soon as she’s gone, my mom lets go of my shoulder. “Conner,” she says in a quiet tone. “What are you up to?”
I stand, shoving the chair into the table. “Nothing,” I say, the defensive edge in my voice calling me a liar. “I’m not up to anything.”
“Are you sure,” she grabs me by my arm, holding me in place when I try to walk away. “Because pretending you need a tutor for anything looks like something.”
“I’m just trying to help her, Mom. That’s it,” I say, looking her in the eye. It’s the first time I can ever remember lying to her. “You know how her family is—she doesn’t even have a pair of shoes that fit.”
What am I supposed to say? That I like her. That I like her so much that I don’t know how to talk to her. Be around her. With other girls, it’s easy. I can smile and say whatever I want because none of it matters. None of them matter.
Not like Henley.
My mom digs her fingers into my arm. She knows how I am about girls. Goes through them like tissue is a term frequently used to describe my dating behavior and she doesn’t believe me for a second.
“Conner Jonathan Gilroy, don’t you hurt that girl.” She shakes her head at me. “She’s got it hard enough without having you—”
“I won’t,” I say, and I mean it.
Hurting Henley is the last thing I want to do.