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“Afraid I can’t do that,” he says, looking down at the books we’re grappling over, before looking straight at me. “Let go, Henley.”
Something about the way he says my name loosens my grip and pushes me a step back. I watch while he tucks my books under his arm. Victorious, he gives me another smile. “Where are we going?”
We.
“I’m going to the library,” I say, casting a long look at my books.
“You don’t eat lunch?” he says, his brow slightly furrowed. Like the thought of it bothers him for some reason.
“I have some studying to do.” What am I supposed to say? I don’t have lunch money? My mom refuses to fill out the application for the free lunch program because that would make our status as poor white trash official somehow? I’d rather poke myself in the eye with a sharp stick. “You should go to class, Conner,” I say, reaching for my books.
He shifts, keeping them away from me. “Why can’t I go with you?” he asks, perplexed again.
“You don’t want to study with me, Conner,” I blurt out. “I don’t know what you want, but that’s not it.”
“You’re right,” he says, taking a half step in my direction. “I don’t want to study with you.”
“Then what?” I say quietly, shaking my head. “What do you want from me?” Maybe if he tells me what he wants, I can just give it to him, and he’ll leave me alone.
“Well,” he says, cocking his head slightly like he’s considering what to do with me. “I want to talk to you, for starters.”
“About what?” Even as nice as he’s been, I can’t help but feel skeptical. I keep expecting Jessica and the rest of the school A-listers to pop out of the janitor’s closet to laugh at me.
“About Gatsby—” He starts walking down the hall with my books. “the guy’s an idiot.”
I stare after him for a moment before scurrying to catch up. “He’s not an idiot.” I shake my head, following beside him. “He’s in love.”
“Like I said, he’s an idiot.”
“Being in love makes him an idiot?” For some reason, hearing him say it makes my heart ache a little.
“Well, it didn’t fuckin’ help—” Conner rolls his eyes. “he blew all that money, trying to get the attention of a chick who wasn’t even worth it.”
I think about Daisy Buchanan, Gatsby’s love interest in the book. She was beautiful and rich and privileged. Gatsby loved her so much he made his fortune and spent it throwing lavish parties, every night, just to get her attention. In hopes that someday, she’d show up at his door. “You don’t think Daisy was worth the effort?”
“Hell no,” he scoffs.
“Daisy is supposed to be the ideal woman,” I say, suddenly feeling like I’m on solid ground again. I can do this. I can talk about books as long as I can ignore the fact that I’m doing it with Conner Gilroy.
He looks at me like I’m crazy. “According to who?”
“I don’t know,” I say, suddenly embarrassed. “Guys.”
“Guys.” He repeats the word, shaping it around a laugh. “You have a pretty low opinion of us if you think that’s what we like.”
“I don’t think,” I say, shaking my head. “I know.”
“You don’t know half as much as you think you do,” he tells me, shooting me a healthy dose of side-eye.
“Name one guy you know who’d take brains over looks, Conner,” I grumble. “One guy who’d date someone like me over someone like Jessica.”
We reach the library, and he opens the door, pulling it wide so I can pass through while he’s holding it. “You’d be surprised, Henley,” he says as I walk past him. “You’d be surprised.”