Page 68 of Where the Little Birds Are (Little Bird Duet 2)

I tried not rolling my eyes, almost scoffing as I type out a quick no. I’m not sure why I relented to enroll at a local college a few towns over from Lincoln other than to please my parents. I’d told them countless times that I’d find a better job than dish washing until my book came out, anything other than wasting my time in classrooms and building debt, but that didn’t go over well.

So, here I am.

Parker: I’m sorry

Kinley: It’s not your fault

Parker told me he’d always wanted to go to college, which his parents were happy about. But from what he’s told me of the New Jersey natives, they didn’t care what he chose to do as long as he was happy. And it made me dwell on my mother’s many conversations about the importance of higher education. If I heard one more time that getting a degree would ensure I’d make something of my life by anyone, I’d rip my hair out.

Parker: What if I surprised you this weekend?

Kinley: Surprised me how?

Gnawing on my bottom lip, I stare at the bubbles dancing across the bottom of the screen with anticipation. Nerves settle into my stomach and only grow as he continues typing.

Then the bubbles disappear.

“What the—” Realizing I spoke out, my eyes widen, and head snaps up to the front of the room. A few kids around me giggle as Professor Ripley turns to me.

His eyes meet mine. “Is there something you’d like to ask?”

Cheeks burning, I slowly shake my head.

I notice the slight twitch of his lips as he gestures toward my lap. “I strictly said no cell phones in class, or I’d ask students to leave. Unless it’s an emergency that can’t be helped, I suggest you pack your things.”

Someone makes a noise from behind me and every set of eyes locked on my burning face. I don’t argue as I gather my things and snatch my phone from my lap before standing up, doing a different kind of walk of shame out of the classroom.

I shoot him a text the same time he finally sends his.

Kinley: I just got kicked out of class

Parker: I have a three-day weekend and was wondering if I could come see you

I stare at his text. And stare some more. Because surely I didn’t just read that Parker Jennings, full-blown city boy, soon to be publicist, wants to come here to the middle of nowhere—to see me.

Stopping in the middle of the empty hallway, I grip the phone with my fingers and scan each word carefully twice more before blinking. It isn’t farfetched to think he’d want to see me considering he’d admitted as much during our many conversations over the summer.

There were hints when he asked about my family, the town, and where I went to school like he wanted to see where I grew up. I’d mentioned Zach, and sometimes even Corbin, but found the silver-eyed boy a topic I tried avoiding whenever he’d bring him up. Parker understood that Corbin is someone I want to stay in the past. He respected it, which made me respect him in return.

But there’s a lot wrong with him wanting to come see me. For one, my family. I haven’t mentioned Parker once since I met him. It isn’t because I don’t want them to know he exists, but because it didn’t seem important. Or maybe I don’t want it to be. I barely speak of anyone other than Zach to my family these days, so suddenly mentioning another guy?

Not to mention an older guy. Parker is four years older than me, which is something my father will definitely have something to say about. It doesn’t matter that he’s fifteen years older than Mom, I’m still his baby. And Gavin?

I shiver.

Parker: Shit. Because of me?

Brows furrowing, I remember what I’d texted him before blowing out a breath.

Kinley: How come you haven’t gotten in trouble for texting me? Shouldn’t you be working?

Parker: I’m making copies of something in the file room

Kinley: In other words, you’re hiding

Instead of answering me, he circles back to the question that has my heart tightening in my chest. I’m not sure if the way it clenches is because of my family’s potential reaction or my own. I like Parker. He’s attractive, determined, and knows what he wants. And, I admit, I like that he’s in the same industry as me.

I finally found someone I can talk to about books and media and everything that doesn’t award me blank stares and empty nods. It makes the hole in my chest close just enough to make the pain a little more bearable.

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