Page 3 of Icing Hearts

“Shut up, Charity,” he shoots back,colder than frost in January.

But he doesn’t pull his arm away.

He never does.

That delicious warmth uniting us doesn’t last nearly as long as I wish it would because he pauses at the door to our class and lets me walk through first.

Tory can be cruel. But he never takes it too far. He plays the game, feeds into my overtly flirtatious persona by jibing back. If he flirted back or just got bashful, it would ruin the schtick.

A small part of me thinks he does it for my benefit. And abigpart of me wonders why he cares.

Chapter 2

Clara

It’s time to pick partners in history and my hand shoots up—a rocket between white cinder block walls and desks.

“Oh, oh, I must have Tory as my partner. Please, I’ll just implode if I don’t.”

Mr. Macintyre looks at me bouncing in my seat, waving my hand in the air like I’m landing a plane. Then, over at Tory who rolls his eyes and shakes his head vigorously.

“What say you, Vic?” our teacher asks unnecessarily. “Wanna partner up with Clara?”

“Mr. M, I’d rather bathe in a cocktail of bleach and cyanide than be partnered with Charity.” He juts a thumb in my direction, emphasizing the nickname he’s given me in retaliation for the one I’ve given him. None of the other girls get nicknames, though. Just me. He says it’s because I’m a charity case. “She’s been harassing me since the fifth grade—referring to some unfortunate flag football incident as our meet-cute.”

My hands rise to cover my heart in a faux swoon. “I love when you tell people our story. So romantic,” I call toward the back of the room where he’s attempted to hide. The rest of our classmates snicker in response.

“Perfect!” Mr. M claps his hands together at the front of the room. “The last two projects I assigned weren’t your best work, so let’s see how you do with a straight-A partner you apparently loathe. Maybe it’ll motivate you to do the work.”

I gasp and clutch my hands beneath my chin this time. “Mr. M you’re a gentleman and a scholar. I’ll name all our future children after you!”

This schtick keeps me going. When everything else goes awry, I’ve got this game with this boy. Deep down, I think he inherently knows I need this. So, he tolerates it.

Tory groans and lets his head fall to his crossed arms on the desk. I jump up and begin dragging my desk to the back of the room.

“That’s really not necessary, Clara.” My teacher makes a feeble attempt to stop me.

“Too late, Mr. Mac! Clara’s on the move.”

I plop down next to Tory with my desk bumped up against his. “Howdy, partner!”

Groan.

“Where are your manners, young man?”

“Left ’em at home, grandma,” he mumbles through his arms.

I waltz over to Tory’s table at lunch, emboldened by the valid excuse to converse with him and bouncing with exuberance. In all our years, we’ve never been assigned as partners on a school project. In fact, this history class is the first we’ve had together in high school.

He’s surrounded by the hockey boys and a bevy of beauties. Luckily, he’s ignoring the ladies and they’ve moved on to the other guys. I get lost in thought, wondering if they’ve all seen the movieA Beautiful Mind and are enacting the theory discussed in the dance hall scene. I cock my head to the side, pondering. Probably not. Most seventeen-year-olds aren’t familiar with a 2003 film about a brilliant mathematician, even if it won multiple Academy Awards.

I shake the thoughts from my head, zeroing in on my target.

“What do you want, Charity Case? Here to harass me some more? Or are you just gonna stand there like a voyeur?” Tory addresses me without so much as a glance.

I turn to perch my rear on the edge of the table and clutch my books to my chest. I’m the picture of a blushing schoolgirl and tsk at him.

“You rude boy. If this was voyeurism, thenyou’dbe half-clothed, andI’dbe receiving some sort of inappropriate gratification and we are neither. Furthermore, I hate to disappoint, but I’m here on business, not pleasure.”

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