She’s definitely blushing...

She clears her throats and looks away from me. “You said you came here for something? Can you hurry up and tell me what that ‘something’ is so I can get back to addressing my art club? Today is a very important day for us.”

“I can see that...” I decide to get the inevitable over with. I take her notebook out of my backpack and hand it to her. I almost tell her the truth about it, that I took it just to get her attention, but decide to take another approach, to see if she’s as easily affected by me as I am by her. If finding her alone is just what I needed to see her with her guard let down.

“I found your notebook this morning,” I say. “I wanted to find you and give it back. I tried to give it to you after Physics class but I couldn’t get your attention.”

“Where exactly did you find it?”

“It was in the ‘Lost and Found.’ I saw it on top of everything in there when I got here for practice earlier.”

“You know, that’s funny.” She narrows her eyes at me and crosses her arms. “Because I’ve been checking’ Lost and Found’ every single day and in between every single class for weeks and it was never there.”

“Maybe you just didn’t look hard enough.”

“I even checked it this morning, and it wasn’t there. It. Was. Not. There.”

Okay. She’s easily affected.

I smile and flip through her notebook’s pages. “You have a very pretty handwriting. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Where did you really find it, Dean?”

“You take pretty detailed notes, too.” I can’t stop looking at her.

“Did you steal my fucking notebook?”

Yes. I fucking did.  “Maybe. Depends on how you define stealing.”

“WHAT?” She somehow looks even sexier when she’s angry. “I had to rewrite the entire thing in one night! The night before our midterm!”

I walk over and set the notebook on the window sill, catching a glimpse of what she’s been painting. It looks like the skyline of Seattle, or maybe Portland.

“Well,” I say, “Good thing you somehow managed to still get an A, right? If it wasn’t for me, you probably wouldn’t have known that you were capable of rewriting a whole notebook in a night. I helped you push your boundaries, so I think I deserve a thank you.”

She glares at me for a long time, and I can feel something between us. Half of it is her wanting to bash my head in with the closest blunt object, but the other half is something just as strong, something I can’t quite figure out.

Before I can tell her that I really am sorry and explain what happened, she rushes past me uttering curse after curse.

I follow her out to parking lot and catch up with her, trying to apologize yet again, to make it up to her with a ride, but she refuses. She rushes away from me and heads to the bus stop, apparently not knowing that the last bus has left for the day.

I take my time walking to the parking lot and slip into my Camaro, the only thing I can honestly be thankful to my father for over the past few years.

Driving straight over to Mia, I tell her that she’s wasting her time waiting for a bus that’ll never come and that I’d like to make up for stealing her notebook by giving her a ride home.

She starts walking. In the rain.

I’m not sure why I chase her, but I do. I trail her every step with my car, make U-turns when she goes down a one-way street, and I speed up whenever she does.

When she finally gets stopped by a pedestrian light, I roll down my window and stop.

“Look, Mia,” I say. “Let me take you home.”

“Not interested.”

“Well, at least let me take you to the next bus stop.” I look up at the sky. The rain is only about to get worse,

“A four block ride? No thanks.”

“So, you’re really going to walk all the way home in the rain?”

“Yes,” she says. “Yes, I guess I really am going to walk all the way home in the rain. Thank you for your concern. Goodbye.”

Okay, that’s it.

I park my car and get out, walking over to her. Done arguing about this, I put my arm around her shoulder and lead her to my car, opening the passenger door.

“Get in, Mia.”

She hesitates for a moment, looking over at the streetlight, but then she quickly slips inside and I shut the door behind her.

I return to my place behind the wheel and drive through the light.

“Where do you live?” I ask, knowing the answer to this question already, but I’ll play like I don’t.

“The corner of Seventh and Broadway.”

“Okay.” I hold back a laugh and turn on the radio, not sure whether it’s a good or a bad thing that her indie band CD is blasting through my speakers or not. But then that familiar blush crosses her cheeks again, and either she’s been really good at keeping her expressions in check for along time or she’s having a severe allergic reaction today.

We don’t speak as I take the long way to her house, and I can feel tension building between us with every mile. And every so often, I catch her looking back at me as I look at her; her blush is now permanent.

As we approach Seventh and Broadway, I have to slow down to prevent myself form driving directly to her front door. “Mia, you do not live here. This is just the entrance to your subdivision.”

“So? Did you really think I would give you my real address? I’ll walk the rest of the way. The rain isn’t that bad now.”

Smiling, I speed up and drive down the street to an abandoned lot. It’s time for me to play my last hand, for me to give this one last try.

“What are you doing?” she asks. “Go back. Go back right now.”

“I need your help with AP English.”

“I need your help with learning directions. My neighborhood is back there.”

I ignore her and try to focus on making my lie as believable as possible. “AP English is the only class I don’t have an A in.”

“What? You make A’s?”

“Yes.” I don’t tell her that we’re practically tied for valedictorian. “I make A’s, except for English. I have a C plus and I need at least an A minus if I’m going to look appealing to colleges.”

“Wait a minute, what?” She looks confused. “You’re the star quarterback. You don’t need to make good grades to get an athletic scholarship. You just need to keep playing football. Isn’t that what you want?”

Her question catches me off guard and I almost slip. “I need you to help me with the literature components and help me strengthen some of my essays.”

“But why do you want me to help you?”

Because I fucking like you...

“Why wouldn’t I?” I ask.  “You have the best grade in the class and I’m pretty sure that being a smart ass, which you clearly are, requires quite a few brain cells, so I figure there’s no one better to ask.”

“Maybe, but I’m not interested.”

JESUS! “I’ll pay you.”

She stares at me for a while, as if she’s trying to gage if I’m being real or not. “Is that how you normally get what you want?”

“No, that’s not my normal method, but I figured you wouldn’t go for that, so I’m not going to go down that road with you.” I can’t help but smile.

“My services don’t come cheap,” she says. “They’re very expensive.”

“Honestly, I’d be disappointed if they weren’t.”

“Then in that case, I’m sure you can’t afford me.”

“Try me.” I’ve prepared for this. No number she says can be too high. I crank the engine and drive, heading toward her neighborhood again.

“Twenty dollars an hour.” She finally gives a figure.

“Deal.” I’d predicted she’d ask for fifty.

“Deal? Just like that?”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s a lot of money.”

“I’m sure you’ll be worth every penny.”

“Fine. We’ll start in a couple weeks.”

I drive straight into her subdivision and look over at her, still playing dumb like her house isn’t 5632. “I’m not letting you out of the car until you tell me which of these houses is yours. I need to make sure you get home safely.”