Page 33 of Easy Out

“We’re in. If that’s what we’re doing. We’re in.” Inside I’m screaming and jumping. They might not like the people who go to that school. They may never fit in. But for two years, they can suck it up. Westfield Prep will get them away from the trailer park and give them a future.

“Let’s get to work.”

8

HART

I woke up this morning with a plan. I was going to wait for Lauren outside Morelli’s door. Sit by her during class. Attempt to lure her with my charm. What little charm I have. If it all goes well, eat lunch with her again at The Round Table after class.

I should have remembered who I’m dealing with. Lauren isn’t just anyone. She managed to give me the slip when a mob of latecomers stormed into the room.

Morelli entered right behind them. Leaving me no choice but to take the first available seat in the lecture hall.

I kept my eyes on her throughout the lecture. If Lauren felt me watching her, she didn’t show it.

I thought I could try again for Anderson’s class, but no. This girl is a gold medalist in avoiding me. I’ll let her have it today, but tonight she is mine. We have another meet-up planned at the library.

We’ve met up a few times over the last week. We cased out the library for dark zones, did surveillance, and talked to other students. Lauren did the talking. I sat there in amazement, watching her ask each person all the questions we put together.

I enjoyed that task more than I should have. Lauren squirmed in her seat every time she had to ask one of my questions I put on the survey. She wrote down everyone’s answers with the cutest blush on her face.

It made me wonder what her answers would be. How do you feel about PDA? Have you ever kissed anyone in public? Would you make out with a stranger you just met at the library? How far would you let him or her take it?

That last question felt sour on my tongue. Thinking about another guy touching Lauren like that. It didn’t sit right with me. I feel protective of her for some reason. Probably because I was the one who dealt with Matt. And I did that for Sydney, not Lauren. Keep telling yourself that.

As soon as I pull into my parent’s driveway, I send a text to Lauren making sure she is still good to meet at the library. She probably won’t answer since she’s working right now. The girl is always working.

I haven’t heard much from her except for setting up our meeting times at the library. I haven’t tried to text her anything personal since she shut down after telling me she didn’t have internet.

As much as I wanted to dig deeper, I let it go.

I don’t get it. Any other girl would take advantage of having my number and send flirty texts ad nauseam. Lauren is keeping all our interactions professional and impersonal.

I should be grateful, but I find it irritating at best.

Now is not the time to worry or wonder about why Lauren has gotten under my skin and piqued a curiosity I’ve never had before. If I show any sign of my interest in Lauren, romantic or otherwise, my mom will sniff it out like a dog on a hunt.

I pocket my phone as I climb out of my car. I visit my parents every Wednesday to eat dinner with them. At least until I start having games during the week. It’s only a thirty-minute drive from campus, and it makes my mom happy. Yes, I am a mama’s boy. She didn’t give me a choice.

“Mamá,“ I call out to her as I close the front door behind me. "Hola, Mamá," I say as I enter the kitchen and kiss her on the back of her head. “Something smells good.” I lean over the pot simmering on the stovetop. It looks a lot like the rice Lauren made a few weeks ago.

I can’t even eat anymore without thinking about her.

“Ah, come here, mi gordito. Let me get a look at you.“ I let her pat my face, squeeze my arms, and inspect me for any injuries or hints of malnutrition. “You look good, mijo.”

"Sí. I can take care of myself now, Mamá." She waves a hand as if that couldn’t possibly be true. I grab a water bottle from the fridge. Then take a seat at the breakfast table.

“How are classes going? Are you keeping up with your studies?”

"Sí, Mamá. It’s only been a few weeks. Practice is light." It isn’t at all. My muscles hurt. I’m tired all the time, but I don’t want her to worry. “I’ve got everything under control.” My mom continues to chop peppers, onions, and tomatoes while she muses over my life.

If I know anything, it’s that Sylvie Hart likes to meddle. I’m an only child and the center of her entire world. Every choice she has ever made has been with me in mind. She would never admit it, but I know it’s true. She would choose my happiness over hers every time. I’m glad she’s never had to.

“Any new friends?” Most would assume this is her slick way of asking if I am dating anyone. Not my mom. She genuinely wants to know if I’ve made new friends. She wants to see if I’m talking again. If I’m putting my past aside and meeting new people without feeling insecure.

"I have plenty of friends, Mamá." She sighs and stirs the simmering rice aggressively.

“Ah, mijo. You can never have too many friends. It wouldn’t kill you to smile now and then. You will never find a nice girl if you have that face all the time.”

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