“Was there dinner or drinks or a movie or a show involved?’
“Uh-huh. Dinner. At my place.”
“Ohh… definitely sounding like a date then. And why don’t I already know about this? I need details, man.”
“Well, you remember Tom from Take Two?”
Ryan’s eyebrows were nearly to his hairline. “You and hot barista guy? Wow, I didn’t think you had it in you. Well done, Bailey.”
Ryan raised his hand to high-five and Bailey pushed it away with a huff. “I think congratulations are a bit premature. It was only a casual dinner.”
“No sex?” Ryan pouted.
Bailey laughed. “Not yet.”
“But you’d tap that, right?”
Bailey rolled his eyes and ignored the question. “I like him. He’s a good guy.”
“With a cute butt.”
Bailey sighed. “He’s got a cute everything.”
Oh God, he had it bad.
* * *
“Hey, Emma?” She looked around as Bailey neared. He approached cautiously. She was nervous, like a skittish colt who looked ready to bolt at any moment, eyes flitting from Bailey to the van, obviously checking to see where Cassie and Jude were and no doubt making sure she had an escape route. It pulled at Bailey’s heart to see so much fear in someone so young and he wondered what—or more likely who—had put that fear in her eyes.
“What?”
Bailey ignored her curt tone. Over the weeks he’d known her, he’d realised her brusque manner was her defence mechanism. Bailey steeled himself to broach the subject he wanted to talk to her about. “Emma, maybe this is none of my business….” She scowled and Bailey was tempted to change what he was going to say, but backing off so as not to offend Emma wasn’t going to help her, not in the long run. He started again. “Listen, I’ve noticed you looking at the books. I know you’re interested in them—”
“I’m not.”
“And I’m wondering if there’s a reason you don’t want to borrow any of them. I mean there’s no obligation to return them and therefore absolutely no real reason for you not to borrow one.” She bit her lower lip and glanced to the van where her friends were currently congregated. “Emma?” Bailey waited until she was looking at him again. “Do you have trouble reading?”
Her already tense shoulders stiffened further but she didn’t say anything. No denial. Bailey looked to the van where the others were rummaging and paying them no attention. Still, he lowered his voice. “If you can’t read, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. Lots of people have difficulty.”
She nodded slowly, the movement hardly noticeable. Her voice was soft when she finally spoke. “I’m not good at reading.”
Bailey nearly shouted with joy that Emma had finally opened up. Her eyes were downcast, and her statement was barely above a whisper, but she had admitted what Bailey had suspected for some time.
“How far did you get with school?”
Emma’s gaze flicked to his before she focused on a non-existent loose thread on her jacket cuff. “I went till year ten.”
“That’s great.”
“But I did shit.”
Bailey wondered if her results were as bad as she was saying, and if they were, was it the outcome of poor teaching, Emma’s own ability or her not putting in any effort, or a combination of the two? But Cassie had told him that Emma was smart, and he got that sense too, so he had a fourth option.
“Emma, do you have a learning disorder? Dyslexia?”
She looked up, but only briefly. “Yeah,” she whispered. “I’m stupid. I tried really hard but nothing ever made sense at school.”
“Dyslexia doesn’t mean you’re stupid. It just means you need to learn differently to everyone else because you see letters and words differently. Did your family or someone at your school try to help you?”
