9
Adrian took my hand and led me away. The streetlights flickered on, casting his long shadow over me, enve-
loping me completely. I stared at the soft, new hairs at the nape of his neck, my throat tight.
“Adrian,” I whispered, “are you mad at me?” I rushed to explain. “That day was a dare. That’s the only reason I approached you. I never, ever wanted to mess with your grades. I want you to be more successful than any-
one, because you deserve it.”
He stopped walking so abruptly that I bumped into his back.
He turned to face me. “Ava, I don’t need an apology from you. If anything, I’m the one who should be apolog- izing. I’m the one who had ulterior motives, who’s been plotting this for a long time.” He paused. “Aren’t there any other questions you want to ask me?”
My heart started to pound. I asked him, my voice barely a whisper, “Do you… do you really like me?”
Adrian gently placed his cap on my head. “You silly girl,” he said softly. “I’ve been so obvious. How could you
not tell?”
My face felt like it was on fire, my heart thumping a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
I don’t remember how I got home that day. My heart was still floating somewhere in the clouds long into the
night.
