“But—you don’t like me,” I blurt out.
“I wouldn’t ask you out if I didn’t like you. But if you don’t want to go—”
“No, I want to go!” I say hastily. “I mean, ifyouwant to.”
John looks amused. “Okay. We’ll have to leave around seven, if that works.”
“Seven’s fine,” I say faintly. I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience, like I’m floating on the ceiling watching two strangers arrange a date.
“Why did you think I didn’t like you?” he asks.
I flush. “I don’t know. You just... didn’t seem that interested, I guess. You never really talked to me.”
“We’ve been talking for weeks.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah,now. But when I first started here, you basically ignored me every time I tried to talk to you.”
John shrugs. “I’m not super chatty. Plus, I thought you were kind of a snob.”
My head jerks backward. “What?”
“You just seemed like you didn’t want to work here or be in Waldon at all,” he says. “And you did think I was stupid,” he adds with a wry grin, “no matter what you might say now.”
I fall silent, my cheeks burning furiously. Did I really come off like that? I wrack my brains, trying to think of things I said to John when I first started working here. I guess I may have mentioned once or twice that this receptionist job was only temporary. And I may have made a few jokes about how small Waldon was. The really pathetic part is, I think I did some of it to try to impress him.
Oh, god.
“I’m asnob,” I say miserably.
John snorts. “Not really. You just sort of seemed like that at first.”
“No, I am!” I insist. “I think I’m better than the people who live here.”
“You probably are better than some of them,” John says. “There are some really shitty people here.” He laughs again at the look on my face. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I just thought you were kind of stuck-up at first. Now I know you’re not. I mean, can you honestly say you liked me when we first met?”
I hesitate. “Er...”
He chuckles. “See?”
The corners of my mouth twist up. “Do you always insult people when you ask them out?”
“Do you always expect people who ask you out to think you’re perfect in every single way?” John counters.
An embarrassed laugh bubbles out of me. “Yes. You should think that I’m flawless. Obviously.”
“Obviously,” John agrees. Then he stands, says, “Later,” and wanders off, like we’ve been having a totally normal, everyday conversation. I fight a sudden urge to chuck my cup of tea at the back of his head. I may be a snob, but he is seriously such a weirdo.
(A weirdo who likes me.)
(A weirdo I have adatewith.)
I forgo my tea-throwing plans and do a little spin instead.
I have a date withJohn.
19
I don’t want to sound like a bad person, but I swear Doris pretends to have hearing trouble sometimes. Like right now, she’s telling me a long story about her childhood, and any other time I would be happy to hear it (well, maybe nothappy, since so many of her stories are just thinly veiled complaints about every person she’s ever met, but I wouldn’tmindlistening), but right now I’m desperate to get home and get ready for my date.
