She felt a strange pang as he walked away. She wanted him to stay so she could keep giving him a hard time. That was why she wanted him to stay, of course. Not because she wanted him to accidentally brush up against her and send that little thrill through her body again.
What had just happened? Had she forgiven him? Why did he have to keep sweeping in and rescuing her when she was trying really hard to hate his guts?
As they walked into the coffee shop, Clover asked Autumn, “Who were you talking to on the cell phone?”
“Nobody.”
“Really,” Clover said irritably. “So you have some mental illness issues? You just talk to a cell phone with nobody on the other end?”
“Yep.”
Great. There was nothing more fun than a sulky teenager.
Clover moved to block Autumn as the other kids walked up to the coffee shop counter.
“I’m not screwing around. Give me the phone.”
Autumn handed it to her, and Clover checked the phone numbers. There were half a dozen incoming calls made over the past few days – all to a blocked number.
“Tell me who you were calling.”
Autumn rolled her eyes in exasperation. “A boy I used to know. Back in North Carolina.”
“Name?”
Autumn appeared to think for a second. “Mike,” she said finally.
Mike. Right. Autumn hadn’t even put any real effort into the lie.
“So why didn’t you want me to know about it?”
Autumn shrugged. “No reason. Doesn’t matter. I won’t let him call me again. You want my cell phone?”
“No.” Clover sighed. “I want you to have it so you can make calls if there’s an emergency. Just…if you have a problem, you know you can talk to me, right?”
Autumn shrugged. “Sure,” she muttered, and headed over to the pastry counter, pretending to be very interested in the donut selection.
