Page 69 of Finding Hope

“It was good.” I begin packing my things away; something I should’ve done before the bell. “I’m in a bit of a rush, though. I have a hair appointment, so…”

“A hair appointment?” His eyes glitter with intensity. “You have a date?”

Yes or no? Shit, yes or no?

Evie nods ever so subtly in my peripherals, and my eyes go wide with disbelief. She’s five rows away,andshe’s a kid. How can she hear? How much does she understand?

“Britt?”

My eyes snap back to Brad’s. “Yeah, I do.”

“You do?”

I clear my throat.

Why does he make me so nervous? Why can’t I just punch him in the face and move on?

“Ah, yeah. I have a girl date with Evie.”

His gaze snaps to her. She’s not intimidated. Her arrogant grin almost has me biting right through my lip.

“Just a girls date,” Brad muses. Rubbing his thumb and finger beneath his bottom lip, he rolls the skin and watches me with a smile. “That’s cool. Girl time’s always fun.”

“Uh-huh, so if you–”

“I started fighting this week.” Broadening his shoulders proudly, Brad looks at me as though he’s waiting for me to drop to my knees… but Evie’s snickers ruin his delivery. “It’s cool. I’ve been fighting for years, but, you know, self-taught.”

Frowning, I study his broad-ish shoulders. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, no big deal,” he sniffs. “But I figured if I ever wanted to go pro, I’d need a formal gym. They don’t let you onto the circuit without a gym rep.”

“Pro?”

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it for a long time, but I dunno… now’s as good a time as any to get my ducks in a row.”

“So you’ll stop teaching?”Yes, please.

“Not yet. Not until I get sponsorship deals and stuff.” He brings his hand up to hold my chin. “Can’t take pretty girls like you to dinner without a regular paycheck.”

“Find the right girl, Brad–”Not me!“–and she won’t be looking for money and five-star restaurants. A girl in love will eat a ramen picnic at the park.”

Rolling his eyes, he releases my chin. “No girl of mine will eat ramen.”

“Okay, well…” I grab my purse and begin tossing things in. “I have to go, so I’ll see you–”

“Are you busy tomorrow night?”

“Miss T! Are you ready?” Evie skips over to grab my hand with the giddiness of a three-year-old. It takes everything in me not to react to the paper she slips into my hand; all in vain. “My mom wrote you a letter,” she announces proudly. “She gave me a curfew, so read it quick, then we have to go.”

I glance up at Brad’s narrowed eyes, and when he takes another step forward, I pull Evie back and open my letter.

Bambie, you (probably) look pretty today.

It’s a safe assumption.

I’ve attached my number below, since the fact you’ve needed my niece to bail you out means you should probably have it. Call me anytime, I’ll bail you out of the shit anytime you need it. Well, until you get hitched to some other dude, at which point you become his problem.

I’m going to assume Brad the Bore is in front of you right now, because I know my niece has an uncanny ability to insert her smart self into any awkward situation.

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