I pack up my things in a mad rush. With my backpack slung over my shoulder, I toss what was left of my lunch in the trash can by the exit. If I can just sneak out fast enough?—
The bell rings on cue as if it’s a living creature that knows this is the worst imaginable time. I stand in the doorway trapped. It feels weird turning around now that everyone else is trying to leave, but I don’t want to go out knowing I might come eye-to-eye with the very person I’m trying to avoid.
I stand there paralyzed with indecision until the door across from me opens. Connor is the first one out, his phone in hand. When he sees me, a giant grin spreads across his face.
Any hope of him not realizing my stalker-like behavior flies out the window. Heat floods my cheeks. I don’t get to avoid him, but maybe I can ignore him. Our classes are in different directions, and I start walking down the hall. Instead of going the opposite direction though, he follows me. Soon, we’re in step with one another. I tilt my head ever so slightly away from him so he can’t see me blushing, but I’m still hyperaware of his presence next to me. When I pick up the pace, he matches it. When I slow down, he does, too.
When we get to the stairwell, Connor holds the door open for me. I eye him warily before going through. He holds it for some more of our classmates, and for some reason, I wait for him. That was my chance to disappear, and I blew it. But as we make our way down, I know that Idid that on purpose. I’m dying to know if he saw, but the casual way he keeps his hands in his pockets as we go down the stairs gives nothing away.
I keep waiting for him to bring up Instagram, to tease me for looking at his page, but he’s silent the entire way down. The door at the bottom of the stairwell opens up to The Yard, and we walk out together.
Why hasn't he turned around yet? Why isn’t he going to his class? He’s going to be late, and he’s still walking next to me. My anxiety levels are through the roof by the time he speaks.
“How was creative writing club?”
I force my gaze straight ahead. “It was fine.”
“Did a lot of people show up?”
“The normal amount.”
“What did you guys do today?”
“Talk about college essays,” I say slowly, still confused.
“I’m surprised you weren’t interested in that.”
“Who says I wasn’t?”
“Well, I just assumed the meeting had to be pretty boring for you to be so deep in the archives on my Instagram.”
I stop and spin so that I’m facing him dead on. When I look up, he’s smirking. I wish I had some clever retort, but I don’t, so I say the first thing that comes to mind. “Well, at least it’s not chess club.”
His smirk turns into a full smile as he laughs. With a hand to his chest, he asks, “Was that supposed to hurt?”
No, but I thought he’d have some reaction to it. Shame.Embarrassment. I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Well…”
“It’s no surprise we’re both trying to beef up our extracurriculars.”
I bite my bottom lip as I digest his response. His being there isn’t as simple as joining clubs to look good for Citrus Scholar. I can’t prove it, but I think he’s been in the club for longer than these last couple of weeks. He’s actually good at it; he won last weekend’s tournament.
Judging by the way he’s looking at me, he doesn’t know that I know. I test my theory. “Why did you choose chess club?”
He shrugs. “I figured it looked smart. Seems like the perfect way to impress teachers.”
My eyes narrow. “And you just eeny, meeny, miny, moe-d it?”
“Isn’t that how you’re choosing yours?”
“Yes, but?—”
The tardy bell rings. My eyes widen. We’re late.
Thankfully, I’m just outside my next class, and the teacher is pretty chill about walking in a minute or two late, but Connor has math with Mr. Smith. He’s not as forgiving. He’ll definitely get a yellow slip for this.
I feel bad for a split second until I remember he followed me all the way here just to torment me. He’s so annoying. I straighten my spine. “Too bad disciplinary action doesn’t look nearly as good as chess club.”
Connor’s arrogant smirk is back. “Worth it.” He starts to walk away but turns back around. “And don’t feel badabout being obsessed with me. I did some snooping on your page, too.”
