My friend shook her head. “No, but someone named Luke Morrissey is, and you’ll get to meet him very soon.”
Luke Morrissey, I thought.Why does that ring a bell?
“Oh my god,” Nina said. “You’re going to sit next to each other at the meeting. Morgan and Morrissey. Alphabetical order!”
“I recognize his name for some reason,” I said. “What’s he here for?”
“Cross-country,” Reese answered. “He’s from someplace in Michigan called Grosse Pointe.”
“It’s right outside Detroit,” Nina informed us after consulting Google Maps on her phone. She looked at me.
I shrugged. “Grosse Pointe sounds kind of familiar.”
But why?
“Find his Insta,” Reese said. That was her answer to everything. Instagram.
I laughed. “Okay, no. I don’t want to know that his family has a goldendoodle named Waffle before we actually meet.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Waffle?”
“Yeah! How cute would that be?”
“So cu—” Nina started, but then the mob of students surged forward, so we surged with it, getting torn apart by the time we made it into the PAC’s lobby. A thousand voices bounced off the white walls as I elbowed my way through a horde of junior boys in striped polo shirts, suddenly excited to find my new auditorium seat.
Because after nearly getting tripped up in the balloons out front, I’d figured out who Luke Morrissey was. A conversation in May with Charlie had started: “My aunt Caroline called last night and said the kid who babysits my cousins is coming to Bexley next year. The one Tater Tot is in love with…”
“You’re the Carmichael twins’ cousins’ babysitter!” I exclaimed the second I turned into my row, and at that, a head turned…
Anadorablehead.
But an adorable head that also looked like I’d just slapped him in the face. I saw his cheeks heat, and when I dropped into my seat next to him, he reached up and ran a hand through his jet-black hair. (“The kind of hair you want to run your hands through,” I’d tell thegirls later). His eyes darted around behind tortoiseshell glasses. “Uh, pardon?” he asked.
“You’re the Carmichael twins’ cousins’ babysitter,” I repeated.
“Or Luke.” The guy nodded. “I go by Luke too. Less of a mouthful.”
I smiled and held out my hand. “I’m Sage.”
We shook. “Nice to meet you,” Luke said, and then he was quiet. Not awkward-quiet, but definitely shy-quiet.
That didn’t faze me.
“So, why are you at Bexley?” I asked, even though I already knew he ran cross-country. I also wanted to pinch myself at how enthusiastic I sounded.But at least Charlie isn’t here.“You and Charlie freak people out,” Nick once told me. “You guys are like sunshine on steroids.”
“Oh,” Luke said. “My indecision.”
I blinked. “What?”
Luke smirked, and I felt a flutter in my chest. “My indecision.”
My eyebrows knitted together. “Youaren’there for cross-country?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I mean yes, Idorun cross-country, but that’s not why I’m here.I graduated from my high school last year, but with zero idea what I wanted to do for college.” He hesitated. “This, uh, also might sound stupid, but I didn’t feel ready for it.”
“Well, no offense,” I said with a laugh, “but you certainly don’tlookready for it.”
Luke smiled and rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m aware I look fourteen. My sister, Becca, whoisfourteen, looks older than I do.”
