Page 46 of More Than Chemical
She shrugged and started to gather them into a pile. “Okay, but you better start typing.”
My fingers flew over my screen as I entered my dad’s new number into my phone. It didn’t make me feel good.
“Promise you’ll read them,” I said, watching my mom stick the pamphlets in her purse.
She looked at me. “Promise you won’t delete your dad’s number the second I drop you back off at school?”
I nodded.
She smiled. “Then I guess we have ourselves a deal.”
Seventeen
The Study Date
Dad might be responsible for my insomnia, but I knew who was going to cure it. Dallas.
Mom dropped me off as close to Lund Hall as possible. As I walked, I made good use of my smartphone gloves and called Eric.
It went to voicemail.
At the beep, I said, “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about your AHL team contract! At Christmas, you said you were working for a youth development program, nothing about this. What gives? Call me…” I paused. “This is your sister, by the way, the only one you have, the one you obviously haven’t talked to in weeks.”
I walked up the front steps into the building, took a left down the hall, and entered the study lounge, a large room with a vaulted ceiling.
There he was. At a corner table.
Dallas was so dang hot my heart danced in my chest.
Okay, Operation: Get Laid, here we go.
I made my way to him and sat in the opposite chair. Who knew last week that we’d be sitting here, he and I, face-to-face, about to study together?
“Hi,” Dallas said in a raspy voice.
My gaze dropped to his lips.Mm.I could almost taste them.
From my backpack I took out a three-ring binder with pocket folders, a notebook, my textbook, a calculator, and a pouch of pens and pencils.
He cleared his throat. “How do you fit all that in there?”
“Easily.” I arranged everything in a spot on the table.
He looked at me with a furrowed brow.
“What?” I asked.
“Is this some sort of study ritual you have?”
“No.” My ears heated, and I pushed everything to the side.
He slid a single sheet of paper across the table to me. “Is this the same physics problem your class has?”
I glanced at it. A magnetic-field question. “Yes.”
He took his sheet back, and I pulled out my own from my binder. But I didn’t pick up my pencil to begin. Not yet.
“You ready?” he asked.
