Page 29 of Celebrities Don't Date Bookworms

He was right, of course, but I just thought all-American had sounded cool to say. Why did he have to say something about it?

I pretended to gasp. “What gave it away? My accent?”

“Just the fact that we live in Ontario.”

“You weren’t supposed to notice that.”

He laughed. “Sorry. I take it back.”

“Thank you,” I said. “But since you mentioned it… I guess you can just consider me an average teen girl. Nothing remotely interesting to see here.”

“So tell me all about being average,” he said. “I’m sure you make it interesting.”

I held back my giggle, but my face still flushed red. This wasn’t him flirting, right? No, that would be crazy.

“Well…” I said. Where should I start? “I have one sibling. A little brother who is absolutely way more popular than me. My bedroom is painted yellow because that was my favorite when I was like five, and my mom won’t let me change it, but I actually want it to be blue. And… I hate gym class so much that I sometimes pretend to be sick to get out of it. More often than not, actually.”

He laughed. “Do you make up diseases that don’t exist?”

“Not diseases, but I do sometimes make up ridiculous injuries. Like sorry, I sprained my brain.”

“I broke my blood.”

“I actually died, and you’re talking to my ghost.”

“Oh, that’s a good one! I’m going to start using that every time I feel dead inside at school.”

“So, every day?”

“Exactly.” He laughed again, andmy only thought was that I wanted to make him laugh again and again because it was the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.

“So, tell me about yourself, mystery man,” I said.

“I’m just your average teenage boy,” he replied immediately.

“Then tell me about all your average teenage boy things,” I said. I rolled over onto my stomach and hugged my pillow. Even though I mostly said it to parrot his words back to him, I found myself actually interested in what was going on in his life. I knew nothing about these boys, and anything that gave me even the slightest glimpse was entertaining to me.

“Hm, okay… I also have one sibling, but it’s a sister who’s a year older than me. I grew up in London, but I moved to Canada when I was twelve.” That explained the accent, then. “I just moved into this house, and it’s a new build, so my room is still white, but I think that definitely needs to be changed.”

“I agree,” I said. “White rooms feel too much like a hospital.”

“Exactly,” he said, dragging out the last syllable. “You get it.”

I laughed. “So why did you move to Bibridge, average boy?”

“Well, that’s a complicated answer,” he said.

“I’ve got time.”

“I’m not a great storyteller.”

“Then tell it badly.”

“Some people in my life thought it would be a good idea.”

I waited silently, expecting him to continue the story, but he didn’t elaborate beyond that.

“Wow,” I said, holding back a laugh. “You weren’t kidding—you are a terrible storyteller.”

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