“Oh, absolutely not.” She slaps the doughnut off my hand. “Please tell me you didn’t just…”
Her expression is so appalled, a full-on belly laugh bubbles out of me.
“For the love of God, someone make it stop,” she growls. “You are a disgusting human being.”
“Just getting to know you a little better.” I shrug, picking the doughnut back up and twirling my finger around the hole faster and faster.
She’s looking at me like I’m the worst person in the world, and my cheeks hurt from grinning.
Cussing under her breath, she swipes the doughnut and throws it in my face before I have time to duck.
“Nice shot.” I laugh, dusting sugar off my cheeks.
She leans back in her seat. “You know, looking at you now, I can’t help but think this is going to be one hell of a mission. Remind me why I agreed to this, again?”
“Because you felt sorry for me?”
“Yeah, curse my massive heart.”
“I was actually planning on throwing in a few tears for good measure yesterday, but as it turns out, I didn’t need to.”
“If you’d cried, it would’ve been a firm no.” She shakes her head. “I can’t stand whiners.”
She fidgets with her glasses and turns to her bag, slipping out a notebook.
While she flips through the pages, I let myself stare at her. The jabs she keeps throwing at me should annoy me—but honestly? They help. Yesterday, when I told her everything, I saw on her face that she was genuinely affected. But now, she’s back to pelting me withsarcasm every two seconds, and it feels kind of reassuring. I don’t want anyone’s pity. I don’t want someone tiptoeing around me like I’m fragile. All I want is someone to shove me into shape. And Carrie is the exact right person for the job.
“So!” She uncaps her pen with a flourish. “Let’s start by mapping out your goals.”
She draws a horizontal line right across the page, scrawling “mission accomplished” on the far right.
“This right here is the end goal.”
“I kinda guessed, yeah.”
“And this”—she sketches out a skull head on the left—“is where we’re currently at. Let’s assume that by the end of this crash course, you’ll be capable of sweeping an amazing girl off her feet. What do you feel you need to do to get there?”
I frown. This seems pretty basic. Boring, even.
“I’m all ears, Wolinski.”
“Isn’t thisyourjob?” I fire back.
“No!” She slams her pen down. “Absolutely not.”
“I asked for your help because I have no idea.”
“Okay…” She nods slowly. “Let me think.” She rips another sheet out of her notebook and draws two columns. “Let’s list your qualities and your flaws. Okay? So, on a basic level, you have a few key qualities. You work out, you have nice features—”
“You think I’m hot?” I cut in.
“On the downside, though,” she continues, ignoring me, “you’re massively full of yourself and have a tendency for extrapolating stuff.”
She underlines the word “extrapolating” twice, and chews on her pen.
“Are you a good student?” she asks, eyeing me.
“Straight A’s!”
