Subwayboy Oliver.
I spin on my heel and face my door so he can’t see me panicking. “Um, I forgot—something! I should—”
Too late. The door behind me creaks open.
“There he is,” Joe says cheerfully.
I turn around, the scene playing out in slow motion. Subwayboy pushes a sweep of golden hair away from his face, his eyes landing on mine as he pulls the door closed. Then, as understanding sinks in, his expression softens in surprise.
Joe loops an arm around his shoulders, tugging him in close.
“Sara, this is my younger brother, Oliver.” He introduces us. “Oliver, Sara goes to our school too. What a coincidence, right?”
They’re almost the same height, but they couldn’t appear more different. Joe’s flop of dark hair is like night to Oliver’s lighter strands. Joe’s bright smile, full sunshine compared to Oliver’s darkening grimace.
I’ve never seen Oliver look this caught off guard, but a second later, his walls are back up. He looks miffed as he takes Joe’s hand and tosses it from around him, stepping to the side and bolting to the elevator.
Well. Okay.
“Don’t mind him, he gets like that sometimes,” Joe tells me. “You ready?”
“Uh.” I swallow. What else am I going to do? “Sure.”
The elevator doors open right as we catch up to Oliver. The three of us step inside, and Joe reaches out to press the Lobby button. Oliver tightens his grip on his backpack straps while Joe stares happily at the elevator doors.
I can’t believe it. Joe lives right across the hall? This doesn’t happen in real life. Not to me, anyway. No, this is something straight from a rom-com.
But that’s what I wanted, right? A change! A way to romanticize my life! I’d tried to do this last night when I wrote my article. I pictured myself as a young Carrie Bradshaw, gazing out the window and pouring my heart and soul into this piece. And now this! A love interest right across the way, us bumping into each other this morning. Not only that, but I held anentire conversationwith Joe. All by myself!
Eeep!Wait until I tell Patrick. He’s never going to believe me. Good thing I have those texts with Joe from last night as proof.
So what if he has a sourpuss brother who hates my guts? That’s irrelevant. What really matters is allowing this to work in my favor.
Oliver shifts, glaring down at me. How the heck are they even related? And why didn’t he inherit an eighth of the people skills Joe has? If he was friendly like his brother, maybe we’d get on better.
“Isn’t it wild I was texting you last night about Newspaper Club, and now we find out that we’re neighbors?” Joe beams at me. “The world is such a small place!”
I grin, because it’s easy to be in a good mood around him. He’s so positive.
“It really is.”
“I joined Newspaper Club at my old school,” he continues. “I was a features reporter.”
“Really? That’s so cool. Oh—” I reach inside my bag and retrieve my article. “Speaking of, I have my application piece for you.”
“Awesome.” Joe takes it from me and scans the headline. “Wow, looks great. I honestly can’t wait to read it.”
I flush. He’s easy to talk to. Why was I scared?
“I’ve been trying to convince Oliver to join.” Joe elbows him as we lurch downward. This elevator is ancient, which means it’s slower than my grandmother driving through a school zone. “Right, Oliver? But he keeps saying he’s too busy tutoring after school. I’m going to keep trying, though, because I think he’s a pretty good writer.”
Oliver only pops in his earbuds. “I can’t hear you.”
Joe chucks a thumb at him. “He can totally hear me. He’s just too humble to admit he excels at writing.”
Of course. I mean, is there anything Oliverisn’tgood at? Aside from all human interactions? Maybe Joe could give him smile lessons in his downtime.
The elevator doors ding open. Oliver darts out like someone’s dropped the gnarliest stink bomb.
