Page 32 of Groupthink

“Do I look that much like a nerd?”

“Nah, it was a shot in the dark. But I’m glad I hit the target. My aim is off sometimes, but I usually hit the spot.”

My eyebrow twitched.

“Another x,” he said, looking into my eyes and reading my mind. “I’m closer to the zero than I thought. How’s my slope?”

“Linear,” I answered.

“Ugh. Straight lines?” he swept a hand over his face. “Not even a fun coefficient to spice things up?”

“Negative one,” I said, feeling the corner of my mouth lift.

“Well shit, I gotta get my act together then!” he said, running his fingers through his thick hair. “I’ll need a moment to collect my thoughts, but you haven’t told me what we’re adding to your whisky.”

“It’s not an addition problem. It’s a fraction,” I said, feeling a burst of confidence. “And the denominator’s one.”

He cocked his head back and laughed. “Smooth!And straight, too, if I’m keeping up.”

I nodded proudly. “Up and to the right.”

“Oh, you’re dirty!” he cackled.

I stiffened, panicking. I didn’t mean for my words to come offthatway.

But he was smiling, his eyes dancing with entertainment.

I was doing it. I wasflirting.

Suddenly I felt like I was holding onto a bomb. All it took was one sudden movement and everything would blow up in my face.

Part of me wanted it to; to get this over with so I didn’t have to carry this hope anymore. Then I could go back to moping about Grayson in peace.

“I’ll be right back with your whole number so that I might have a chance at getting seven from you. Until then, have I sung enough for my supper—I mean, your name?”

The implication wasn’t lost on me, but now I understood that this was just a game. And for the first time in forever, I felt like playing. I felt like having fun.

I tried to think of something clever, but I couldn’t do it fast enough. “Grace. My name’s Grace.”

His eyes crinkled at the corners and he smiled like he’d gotten away with something. “Pleased to meet you, Grace.”

Before I could protest, he took my hand, leaned down, and kissed it. “I’m Sam.”

Sam.The name pulsed through me with a ripple effect, warping my insides. That single syllable was a stone skipping across the surface of my flat, boring life.

As soon as he wandered away, I let out a breath.

Keeping up with Sam took work.

But it was a good kind of work, because that conversation demanded all of my focus.

It was a game. It wasfun.

And when I was that engaged in a conversation, my anxiety didn’t have room to wiggle in and ruin everything.

I smiled stupidly as I leaned against the railing, feeling windswept like I’d just bungee jumped off a bridge.

He’s a player, Disgrace hissed.

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