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I gaped. “You barely gave me a chance—”

“How about we call it for today? Let me know when you have something prepared, and we can regroup then.”

My lips tightened as I fought the urge to tell him to call this whole thing off. How was it even humanly possible to teach your child such shitty manners? If his parents hadn’t been so obviously preoccupied with an argument down the hall, I’d have had half a mind to tell them off for letting their son developthisfor a personality.

But I somehow managed to keep my cool. I just folded my arms and followed Brougham silently out of the room, back through that hallway. The closer we got to the front door, the louder the man’s shouting got—something to do with a lie he’d caught Brougham’s mother telling—and the more I shrank into myself.

Truthfully, I was glad Brougham chose this moment to lose faith in my abilities. All I wanted to do was get out of this spotless, charmless mansion with its echoing halls and unwelcoming vastness. How had I thought it was beautiful when I first got here?

If this was where Brougham was raised, no wonder he was so cold.

FIVE

Locker 896:45 a.m. (0 min ago)

to ray_of_sunshine001

Dear Ray of Sunshine,

You’re right. Asking someone out without a foundation might be the preferred mode for some, but for the rest of us, it’s a little too confronting, and the risk-to-benefit ratio is too big! It sounds like you fall into the latter category. In that case, I would approach things gradually. Find an excuse to spend time with this person—one-on-one is great, groups work too in a pinch. Your best bet is finding something you have in common, then using that as a jumping-off point. “Oh, you love Stephen King, too? I’ve been wanting to stream his new movie for ages, but none of my friends are brave enough to watch with me.” Or “I’ve seen you at the game the last few weeks, are you hitting up the next one? My friends bailed on me.” Or “I love baking too, I’d love to share tips sometime.”

You’ve got to havesomethingin common (and let’s be tough but fair, if you don’t, maybe she’s not the best match for you anyway?). Once you’re hanging out, you can take the opportunity to a) develop your friendship, and b) scope out your chemistry. Rest assured, the “friend zone” isnota real thing. There is nothing wrong with pursuing a platonic relationship for now while you figure out the next steps, and, in fact, the chances of any romantic relationship working out will be increased if you both know you get along, have things in common, and are comfortable around each other. Just keep it consensual, and remember just because she agreed to hang out, does not mean she’s agreed to a date with you.

If you want to figure out if it’s safe to ask her about her feelings, body language is your friend. Look for prolonged eye contact (if she holds it long enough to feel *too* long, it’s a good sign), casual physical contact (the arm touch), a prolonged hug hello or good-bye on her end, lots of leaning in, if she’s spending a lot of time looking at your lips… these are all possible indications she might be receptive to you asking her out. I believe in you, Ray! It’s much easier to ask someone out once you’ve had the chance to gauge their interest and to show them how much fun you have together.

Good luck!

Locker 89

“Now, don’t forget about the paper due tomorrow,” Mr. Elliot said. It was Monday afternoon, and the seconds were ticking closer to the final bell. “There will be no extensionsgranted for anyone without an extremely valid excuse, and ‘I was too tired’ is not one of them. Please note, I am not your father, and I don’t love you, so appealing to my humanity is a waste of time you could be spending on your homework. Clear?”

A few halfhearted murmurs from the class, but nothing too enthusiastic. I glanced up and caught Brooke’s eye one row ahead of me. She gave a dramatic grimace. The bell rang, and everyone shot to their feet, chairs scraping and shoe soles squeaking and friends calling to each other across the room. Mr. Elliot raised his voice to be heard over the cacophony. “This isn’t an exercise in paper conservation, so I encourage you tomeet the word count.As much as I appreciate your thoughtfulness in giving me less work to grade, which I might add I doon my own timeafter dinner, if you can’t write more than half a page on symbolism it makes me look bad. And Ihatelooking bad, because Ms. Georgeson always manages to slip in a dig my way about it at the staff Christmas party. Do you want to ruin Christmas for me?”

I stopped outside the classroom and pressed myself flush against the wall to avoid the flood of tan-and-navy-clad students pouring into the halls while I waited for Brooke. She’d warned me before class she wanted to hang back to ask a question about the essay, and she was my ride home that day, because Mom had to stay behind for a staff meeting and Ainsley was at class until four thirty.

I zoned out while I waited, until suddenly my attention caught on Finn and Brougham joining the main artery from one of the smaller capillary halls, along with two of their friends, Hunter and Luke.

Brougham and Finn seemed to be the unofficial leaders of their pack of four. Together, they resembled what I imaginedit’d look like if a puppy made best friends with a particularly cranky cat. While Brougham stalked the halls with sharp eyes, barely reacting to the jokes and chatter of his friends, Finn bounded, clapping Brougham on the shoulder, snatching Hunter’s phone from his grasp, and reading something aloud from it to Luke’s delight.

I didn’t mean to stare as much as I was, but I couldn’t help but wonder what on earth the puppy saw in the cat. Then the cat spotted me, and I froze, caught red-handed in my goggling.

He held eye contact with me, and I felt like maybe I should be waving, or something? But what if Finn noticed, and asked how we knew each other? And then what if Brougham told him, and Finn told literally everyone he’d ever met, and then my whole life fell apart?

I didn’t wave. Neither did Brougham.

My stare was ripped away from him when someone threw their arms around me from behind, and Brooke’s musky vanilla perfume filled my vicinity. She swung me from side to side, chanting my name.

“Yes?” I laughed, wriggling out of her grip, and turned to face her. She looked especially magnetic today, with her long, dark hair falling in loose waves, a swipe of eyeliner, and a mischievous sparkle in her deep brown eyes. My stomach kicked up, and a grin spread as wide as my cheeks would allow. She hadn’t needed to touch me, but she had. Did that mean something? Had she wanted to hug me as much as I wanted to hug her?

“So,” she said, tipping her head and tapping one foot behind the other in the way she did whenever she had a favor to ask.

“So?” I folded my arms and leaned against the wall.She stepped in to keep the space between us close, and a mixture of hope and delight jolted through me like a shock. Everything in my periphery had vanished at that point, so the only thing that existed was Brooke.

“So, I know I was crappy and insulted your essay-writing abilities,” she said. I could feel her body heat.

“Correct, it was very hurtful. I’ve been crying myself to sleep every night since.”

“Right, super sorry about that. Anyway, I’m desperate, for real. Is it too late to take you up on your offer to help?”