Page 13 of Where the Little Birds Go (Little Bird Duet 1)

He nudges the ground. “How about tomorrow afternoon?”

I stare at him in confusion.

“For the movies?”

“Now we’re watching more than one?”

“Is that a yes?”

I sigh heavily. There’s no way Dad will let me go to a boy’s house to watch movies, especially a stranger. “I have to ask, but I wouldn’t get your hopes up. They let my brother do just about anything when he was my age, but that doesn’t extend to me.”

He playfully pushes my shoulder. “What if I pick you up and put on my charm?”

“I don’t think flirting with my dad will help your case any,” I deadpan. Then I think about it. “Actually, if he thinks you’re gay then you might have a better chance of getting me to come along.”

He full on laughs. “Just ask and let me know. I own all King’s movies, they’re some of my favorites.”

“You have others?”

“I’m a movie guy,” he states simply.

“Movies can be … good.” I cringe at how lame that comes out, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“Agreed. So, get them to let you come. I’ll even have snacks ready. What’s your poison? You mentioned pizza. What else?”

He wants to get us pizza? “Uh…”

“It’s not a hard question, Little Bird,” he muses, sucking in his bottom lip. Even in the dark, his eyes flash a bright color. “What is your favorite food to snack on? Chocolate? Chips? Sour? Swee—”

“Twizzlers,” I blurt. “I like Twizzlers.”

“Red not black right?”

My nose scrunches at the thought of eating black licorice. Dad loves the stuff. Every time he sees black jellybeans in the store, he gets a bag and snacks on them while watching reruns of crime shows at night.

“Definitely red.”

His hand goes to his chest. “A girl after m

y own heart. We’re going to be very good friends, Kinley Thomas.”

My lips part, because I never offered that information during our impromptu school tour the other day. “How do you know my name?”

“Simple,” he states, backing away. “I asked about you.”

Cringing is the best I can do. I can only imagine what people say. He’s a senior to my sophomore—two years older. I’m the quiet girl who doesn’t offer any answers in class unless I’m forced to talk. At lunch, I tend to sit by myself long enough to eat before going to the gym with a book to read. After school, I go right home instead of participating in any extracurriculars.

I’m not popular.

I don’t have many friends.

I’m just … boring.

“Until tomorrow, Little Bird.”

“Don’t call me that!” I yell after him.

I’m left with his laughter in the night.

---