Page 11 of The Wallflower and the Running Back

“Yeah, fine,” I relent, leaning toward her and picking out a blue piece. Is blue even a flavor?

I unwrap the candy and tear it in half with my teeth, my plan being that half is easier to pick out of your teeth. I seem to have come up with another failed hypothesis, however, as my mouth instantly becomes coated in sticky goo.

I scrunch up my face and smack my lips as I work out chewing.

“Why do you like this stuff?” I grumble.

Claire shrugs.

“I’m not sure I do. But it’s what my mom sends me in the mail, so I eat it. Can’t reject a gift, ya know?”

“Can’t you?” I pick out the bits I haven’t swallowed with my fingernail then wrap up the remaining half and toss it on top of my backpack with every intention of throwing it away later.

“What’s the deal with the letter?” Claire asks, leaning over the edge of the bed and wiggling her fingers toward me. I hand her the letter.

“Oh, you know, turns out the scholarship Stella stole from me was also the last one ever. So that’s fun.” My mouth pinches on the sides, my wry expression accompanied by a few slow blinks.

“Stella, tsk,” Claire says as her eyes scan the brief letter. She tosses it back to me then rests her chin on her stacked fists.

“I’m sorry, Rachel. That really sucks. Maybe you can save enough?” Her mouth tugs up with hope, which is kind but unrealistic.

“Maybe if I had a year, but I can’t take a job while I’m finishing my labs.”

We both nod at the reality.

Claire rolls onto her back and rests her feet on the brick wall, which she’s covered with posters of Darwin and Einstein. I quite like her taste in role models. I turn my attention back to the flash cards and have filled out a dozen or so more when there’s a knock at our door.

I snap up as Claire mumbles, having started to fall asleep. She rubs two fists in her eyes, the dark circles around them more prominent after a nap. Claire very much looks like the girl from Beetlejuice.

“I’ll get it,” I say, wondering who the hell it could be. Claire isn’t as much of a hermit as I am, but she’s not exactly taking callers often, or ever.

A quick glance through the peephole reveals Logan standing on the other side, a red folder gripped in his hands. I open the door enough to wedge myself in the opening.

“Uh, hi?” I glance to the right then left, waiting for more football players to leap out and yell whatever people yell during practical jokes. Logan seems to be alone, though.

“Hey, sorry. I asked the girl downstairs for your room number. I hope that’s okay?” His shoulders rise an inch or two, likely the coy way he gets away with murder.

“It’s totally not okay, but I guess I’m glad you aren’t a murderer. Unless . . . you aren’t secretly a murderer, are you?” I’m actually only half kidding. I watch a lot of true crime, and guys like Logan make for great surprise suspects. Shit, is he a murderer?

He leans in a few inches and I flinch.

“If I told you, then it wouldn’t be a secret, would it?” He holds my gaze hostage for a few quiet seconds before he winks and his mouth morphs into that damn charming smile. The same smile I’m sure he used on the front desk girl to get her to give up my room number.

“Sorry to bother you. Truly,” he continues. I lean my weight into the door jamb just as Claire pulls the door from my grip and widens the opening enough for two.

“Hi. I’m Claire.” She reaches over my shoulder and holds out her hand. Logan tucks the folder under his arm then gives her a firm shake, which she compliments him on.

“Logan Ford. Nice to meet you, Claire.”

She studies him for a second then points at his folder.

“What you got there, Logan Ford?” Claire is a bit sassy. Normally, that would intimidate me, but I’ve started to appreciate her blunt approach. It got us a slightly bigger room on move-in day, and two windows instead of one.

“That’s why I’m here, actually.” His gaze shifts to me. “I snagged a folder from Coach after weights and I realized I’m missing one of the study sheets. I wanted to see if you still had it in your notebook. I was going to study.”

My skeptical side kicks in and my head tilts a hint. Logan chuckles then opens the folder, holding it out for me as proof.

“I told you I would take this seriously. I’m afraid I’ll forget everything we did today, so I thought I’d review one more time.”

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