Page 31 of Crazy for this Girl

I quirk a brow. “I talk to you, don’t I?”

“I’m different. I’m your best friend.”

“That thankfully doesn’t call the house because Mom would be worse off than she is now. She literally sat me down for over an hour about boys and—”

“Again?” I nod. “Why did he call?”

“He’s in biology class. We had a project about vitamin C and colds.” Cal wrinkles his nose. “Yeah, I know, but I wasn’t about to get sick.”

“Please explain because you lost me.”

“Well, one of us had to take a vitamin C tablet each day while the other didn’t. We had to record any symptoms we may have experienced during that month and keep a journal of it.”

“And let me guess…” He eyes me suspiciously. “You were the one who took the vitamin.”

I lift my chin proudly because, duh. “Yep.”

“Huh”—He crosses his arms—“and how did you get that poor dude to take the risk of getting sick over you?”

I shrug my shoulders. “I just told him I wasn’t getting sick for a project.”

“Uh, huh.”

“And I had to buy him a pop from the vending machine every day.”

“So, you spent thirty bucks to not get sick.”

“Twenty, Harper. There’s five days in a week and four weeks in a month. What’s up with you and math?”

He chuckles and shakes his head at me. “I don’t need math when I have you to add for me.”

“I multiplied.”

“Looks like I’m going to need you for the traveling bit to hold the money.”

“Oh, no AMEX black card?”

Cal looks up at my ceiling as if I’m the most infuriating thing in the room. “You’re a brat.”

“A brat that doesn’t get colds.”

“I feel bad for this guy.” He glances back down at me. “You’re cold-blooded, girl.”

“Well, if I would’ve gotten ill, you wouldn’t have been able to see me.”

“You talkin’ about a common cold or having half of your body severed off because I’m sure you would’ve been just fine.”

I tsk haughtily. “You don’t know that. I could be on my deathbed with the flu.”

“You said cold.”

“Colds can turn into flus.”

“And is yours life-threatening because I can assure you that I still would’ve come up in this room to come see you without knocking.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “I know that you’re an only child and you don’t have to deal with little brothers or sisters that bust into your room like the SWAT team, but normally people knock before entering. It’s called common courtesy.”

“Even if I did, you wouldn’t have heard me while you blasted mainstream club music in your ears. Did you expect me to stand by the door and wait a century before you figured out how to properly shake your ass?”

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