Mrs. Brown is susceptible to dimples and isn’t above peeking inside a student’s file to find contact info if you ask nicely enough.
My brows shoot up. I didn’t realize Connor had dimples, since he so rarely smiles. And is he implying heflirtedwith Mrs. Brown to get my number?
Interesting.
Connor:
Are you angry? Do you want me to forget this number and never reach out to you again? I can, you know. Just forget your number and your beautiful face like neither of you ever existed.
Okay, is Connor Wells … flirting with me? I reread the text, but I had it right the first time: he totally just called me beautiful. It’s out-of-character enough that a frisson of alarm shoots down my spine.
Me:
Are you all right? Where are you right now?
“Belinda, dear, would you care to stay for supper?” Mrs. Harrington is standing in the doorway with a hopeful look on her face. When I glance over at Sophia, I see she’s wearing a similar expression.
“Um, I wish I could, but I need to go back to my room after the movie and finish a paper.” My frown matches Mrs. Harrington’s. “Maybe another time?”
“Of course. Anytime, really. Don’t you agree, Sophia?” Mrs. Harrington glances over at her daughter.
“Definitely.” Sophia nods, the disappointment disappearing from her gaze like it was never there. “What paper are you working on?”
My brain scrambles for an answer as my phone buzzesrepeatedly with multiple notifications from Connor. “Uhh …”
“Is it the English lit one? That’s not due until Sunday night,” Sophia reminds me.
“I haven’t even started the reading yet,” I admit sheepishly. “That’s what I need to do first. Read the book.”
“Well, you have an entire weekend to do that, thank goodness. I’ve already finished mine.” Sophia beams, and Mrs. Harrington looks on proudly.
My heart pangs at their little mother-daughter moment. Then yet another text notification comes from Connor, and I forget all about it as I check his messages.
Connor:
