Page 52 of One Little Kiss
She sounds so glum I have to give her my best reassuring smile. “You did help. I think I know what I need to do.”
“Yeah?” She looks so hopeful but my mom interrupts by shouting up the steps that my date’s here.
“Gotta go,” I say with a too-bright smile. “Wish me luck?”
“Good luck, Noelle.”
I turn off my phone and tuck it into my clutch. I don’t even peek in the mirror because I’ve been doing little but checking out my appearance for way too long. But I only just reach my bedroom door when there’s a knock.
Pulling it open, I go more than a little breathless at the sight of Elijah in my bedroom doorway, decked out in formal attire.
His eyes widen and he lets out a puff of air as he takes me in the same way I’m giving him a once over. His gazes go dark and distant for a second, but then he blinks and it’s gone, and he’s meeting my stare with a crooked smile I know well. “You look amazing, Noelle.”
“Thanks.” And then, with all the awkwardness in the world, I add, “So do you.”
If he notices my weirdness, he doesn’t let on, nodding instead toward my bed. “Can I come in for a sec?”
I throw open the door and it’s only then I realize he’s carrying something. A book and some papers.
“What’s that?” I ask.
He tosses it all onto the bed and I cross over to look. My heart gives a crazy hiccup as my lips part in surprise. “The driver’s ed textbook?”
I frown over at him, only to find him watching me closely. That glint is back in his eyes but once again it’s gone in the blink of an eye.
“What’s this for?” I ask.
His smile is small and sweet, and it holds just enough uncertainty to make me feel like the ground is tilting and I’m falling. “This is for you. Er, for us.”
“For us,” I repeat slowly.
“To study,” he says.
“For…”
“For the written test?” His smile grows now, and amusement lights up his eyes.
“You’re going to…to help me study?” I barely recognize my voice, and I definitely don’t know what to make of this warmth in my belly, spreading up into my chest…
It’s making it hard to breathe, so I look down, focusing on the textbook and the other papers. He points to one of them. “These are the guidelines for requesting extra time.”
I blink up at him. “What?”
“It’s for people who have learning disabilities or…or whatever,” he says.
That heat sweeps up into my cheeks now, and I look away.
“Look, lots of people have a hard time with tests,” he says. He sounds annoyed and somehow that makes me feel better.
It would be embarrassing and weird if he was pitying me or being condescending. But he’s talking to me like I’m being an idiot.
And maybe I am.
“Especially timed tests,” he continues. “I talked to Mr. Carlson about it—”
“You talked to Mr. Carlson?”
He ignores me. “For starters, we can request extra time.”
