“Whatever, they’re both fit to me. Anyway”—she pulls out her lip gloss and reapplies it, followed byher phone—“ohmigod. Miles wants to meet me by the fountain now. Do I look okay?”
“Yes, you look very pretty.” I nod truthfully while she straightens her top and runs fingers through her hair.
“Okay, thanks. Wish me luck.”
“Where’s Hendricks?” Mary asks when Annabel runs off.
I shrug. “Don’t know. Do you want to go and get a hot chocolate? Claudia might still have some flapjacks left.”
“Yes, let’s go.”
Neither of us speaks as we walk over to The Beanery. I’m sure Mary’s wondering the same thing as me, which is how Annabel is doing. I’m also wondering if I’ll ever get the chance to kiss Hendricks. Or at least see what it’s like. Wet maybe. Soft.
“Annabel will be able to tell us what we do with our tongue,” mumbles Mary with a mouth full of flapjack and sits down on the bench outside.
“Yeah, good point.” I nod, blowing the steam away from my hot chocolate before I sip, returning to our silent contemplations.
We’ve barely finished our drinks when Annabel returns. It’s like she has cartoon stars circling her head.
“Well?” Mary’s eyes are wider than I’ve ever seen them. “How was it?”
She should be given an award for how dramatic her sigh is. “Amazing. Miles is the best kisser.”
I don’t bother asking how she knows that seeing as he’s theonlyperson she kissed. I’m also a bit confused because I can see Miles straight ahead ofme, and he’s with Lauren MacCauley. His arm is around her, and hedoesn’t look like he’s been kissing anyone other than her. Certainly not in the past half an hour. But I turn to where Annabel is now staring wistfully.
My heart drops to my belly before I fully figure out what’s happened.
The rest of the boys are all clustered in a circle by the fountain, including the one Annabel’s staring at, hand pushing through his curls. But it’s not Miles.
The boy who’s been making out with my friend for the past fifteen minutes is Hendricks.Myboy.
CHAPTER 12
Hendricks
“Daddy, who’s your valentine? Daddy?”
I crank one eyelid expecting to see a glimmer of morning light, but I see nothing. It’s pitch-black.
“Daddy?”
It’s when I open both and shift back slightly that I can make out the silhouette of my son lying inches away from me on the pillow. “Max, why are you out of bed? It’s not morning yet.”
It’s definitely not morning. My words barely croak out of me.
“I know, but I’ve been thinking,” he continues, like it isn’t the middle of the night, though I actually have no idea what time it is. “Who is your valentine? I don’t have a valentine.”
Turning to my side, I scoop my son up and twist us both around until he’s snuggled against me. “You’re my valentine, Maxy. Now go to sleep, and we’ll talk about it more in the morning.”
Heaviness overtakes me again. My eyelids close, and I think I’ve won him over because he stays silent. He relaxes into my arms, and his breath settlesdown enough that my own steadies, and I’m right there, on the verge of sleep again.
“Daddy?”
I jolt from the faint whisper. “Shhh, Maxy, sleep.”
“Just one more question.”
“What is it?”
