“Thank you,” I told him, then pulled out a chair and sat down.
I pulled out my phone, then I said, “Since you're wearing his shirt, you know what he looks like, right?”
He nodded.
I grinned.
I pulled up a photo I took a few weeks ago when he was in the gym sparing with Garrick.
I showed it to him.
His eyes widened, then they narrowed, “That doesn’t prove you know him.”
I grinned, then I said, “Okay.”
I pulled up a video on the internet, one that showcased his voice. “You know his voice. Right?”
He nodded.
I grinned, then went to my contacts, hit his name, and put it on speaker.
It rang three times, then I heard, “Hey, Lila. What’s up?”
The boy’s eyes were wide.
I snickered, “Hey, Bronson. Just met someone. He doesn’t believe that I know you.”
“That right?” he asked.
I winked at the boy.
“Yep. He doesn’t think I’m cool.” I said.
Bronson snickered, “You’re not.”
“You suck,” I teased, then I hung up on him.
Then I looked at the boy, “What do you think?”
He shrugged, “Okay.”
I winked at him, then looked at his homework, and saw where he was struggling.
I grabbed a piece of paper from the middle of the table and a pencil and worked out the problem in an easier way.
Then I showed it to him.
His eyes narrowed.
Then he looked at me, “Really?”
I nodded. I did the problem on my phone and showed it to him.
He looked at it, then at his paper, and said, “I’m Logan.”
I grinned. “Nice to meet you, Logan.”
Then I spent the next hour talking to him.
