Page 70 of Bad Boys Don’t Date Clumsy Girls

Me: I got the afternoon shift taken care of.

Joel: Sweet!

“Okay, I’ll give you the information at lunch. Thanks!”

Dylan waggles his eyebrows. “I’m here to please.”

We walk in separate directions to go to our classes. I walk backward. “You’re my hero.”

Dylan winks, waves, and walks off. I walk backward for a bit longer, even though it is an exceptionally dangerous thing for someone as clumsy as me to do. But I can’t take my eyes off him. He is so completely different from the boy I thought he was, and the more I get to know him, the more I think I am the luckiest girl on the planet to have discovered the real boy behind the tough-guy image.

Later at lunch, I sit on my hands and lean over my untouched food.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Dylan gently pulls my hand from under my thigh and cradles it in both of his. He captures my gaze and I feel his sincerity down to my toes. “I am sure.”

“I have no idea how my mom will react. And what if you run into my Grandma?”

“Text her and tell her I’m coming.”

I slip my hand from his grasp so I can bury my fingers in my hair and attempt to press the growing headache away. “She doesn’t text. Or answer her phone. I guess I could leave her a message so that if you end up in jail, I can use it as proof I tried to tell her.”

Dylan chuckles. “I’m not going to end up in jail. Write me a note that I can give to her if I need to.”

I sit up. “That’s a good idea!”

I tear a sheet of paper from Bek’s notebook and scribble a note that Dylan can show to either Grandma or Mom if needed. It makes me feel a little better, but a note isn’t likely to stop the full volume tirade he’ll have to endure until he can explain his presence.

Bek stares dreamily at Dylan. “He’ll be fine, Ava.”

I glance at Sam who looks more dubious. Dylan takes my hand again and squeezes.

“I’ll be fine.”

At 2:00, I’m sitting in Chemistry too busy worrying about Dylan’s livelihood to pay attention to what my lab partner is doing. I think he’s used to it, though. Brent doesn’t seem at all bothered by my lack of participation. After I knocked over a beaker with some caustic liquid in it at the beginning of the year, he’s taken care of all the lab stuff, while I take notes. Today, he’s even doing that. I should get him a thank you gift for the B- I’m getting in the class, because that is mostly due to him. Clearly, chemistry is not a place for clumsy girls.

Okay, it’s 2:02. Dylan has probably endured any yelling he’s going to encounter and is hopefully handing Mom a pill and water. Oh, God! Did I tell him to get the water from the bathroom and not the kitchen to avoid Grandma? I can’t believe he’s doing this for me. I can’t believe I’m letting him.

I have my phone in my lap. I told him to text me the second he was out of the house and safe in his car. I keep looking down at my lap, hoping to will my phone into displaying a text. I need to be more careful though, or else the teacher will confiscate it before I know he’s safe.

It’s 2:05. Seriously, Dylan! How long does it take to give a woman a pill?

2:08. Did he forget to text? I thought I was super clear about that.

2:10 and class is over. Crap! I pack up my stuff, thank Brent for being an awesome lab partner, and head to my last class of the day, American Government. It’s against school policy to carry your phone in the halls. Or for one to come out at all, except for during lunchtime, while you are seated, in the cafeteria. My next teacher is super observant, too, so it will be really, really hard to check my phone. Maybe if I keep it in my back pocket, the vibration will at least let me know when he texts.

I sneak a look at my screen super-fast before walking into the class. 2:14. Nothing. What the heck, Dylan!

2:17 my phone vibrates. I’m dying to pull it out and look at it, but we are getting another boring lecture today and the teacher is always looking at us while he talks.

2:21 my phone vibrates.

2:26 my phone vibrates.

Three more times after that, my phone vibrates. I didn’t know I was so popular. It’s the longest forty minutes ever, but finally, at 3:00, I leap from my seat and dash from the room, hand on my back pocket. I slip around the corner, away from prying teacher eyes, and open the screen. So many stupid notifications that are absolutely irrelevant to my life. How do I get on these lists? But there it is, a text from Dylan at 2:17.

Dylan: Package has been delivered. I repeat, package has been delivered.

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