Page 16 of The Moment I Knew

I pretended I didn’t hear it. Ainsley was with me after all, so the voice could as easily be referring to her. It wasn’t that I was in the habit of ignoring people when they called me, but when Mitch Prescott was trying to talk to me, he only ever had one thing on his mind—and it was not something I had any interest in dealing with now.

“Imogen.”

Okay, harder to ignore. I sighed and squeezed my eyes shut for a couple of seconds, mentally steeling myself for a conversation with one of the most annoying boys at school. As I turned around, I caught the smile on Ainsley’s lips, as if this was hilarious, and resisted the urge to shove her.

Mitch was leaning against the lockers like they were built specifically for that purpose. His blazer was unbuttoned, his tie was loosened just enough to look rebellious without actually risking a dress code violation, and his hair was gelled back in a way that I knew some girls swooned over but just made me think of a Lego character with how little it moved.

“Hi, Mitch,” I said, because I believed in being polite. Then I turned back to my sister. “I need to drop these books off before class. I’ll see you at the volleyball game at Northern tonight?”

Ainsley nodded, but her eyes flicked between me and Mitch in a silent question. I just subtly nodded back, telling her I didn’t mind being alone with him. There were some days that I just didn’t have the energy to deal with him alone and she was happy to stick by my side and help steer him off from asking me out, but today I would be okay.

The moment I stepped away from my sister, Mitch pushed off the lockers and fell into step beside me as I headed toward my own.

“So what’s your schedule like today?” he asked as he swaggered by my side. I kept my eyes forward and tried not to cringe.

“Busy,” I said.

“You always say that.”

“Because it’s always true.”

I reached my locker and spun the combination. He leaned an elbow against the door before I could open it fully, grinning like he’d won something.

“What do you want?”

He put a hand to his chest. “Isn’t it obvious? Your time. Your attention. Maybe your phone number.”

“You already have my phone number.” I’d given it to him for a group project last year. He hadn’t texted me a single time for that project but suddenly was very interested in chatting with me once it was over.

“And you’ve never answered a single text.”

“Most boys would take that as a hint.”

He ignored me. “Tell me something real. One thing about you I don’t already know.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know you’re smart,” he said. “I know you have a twin sister. I know your last name is Novak.”

“Amazing how none of that has to do with my personality.” I nudged the locker open farther. “Now, move.”

He didn’t budge. He just grinned wider like it was going to finally win me over. “After you answer.”

I sighed. “Fine. One real thing?” He leaned closer, like this was a secret. “I hate when people assume they’re entitled to my time.”

He blinked, just once. Then smiled again. “That felt pointed.”

“It was.”

“Well, then that hurt,” he said. “I’m wounded. Deeply.”

“Then you should probably lie down,” I said. “Preferably somewhere far away from me.”

He laughed, actually laughed, like this was all part of a charming routine we’d rehearsed together instead of something I’d been trying to shut down since September.

“I know how you can make it up to me,” he continued, leaning an arm along the shelf of my locker so I couldn’t close the door. “Friday night.”

“No.”