Friendship for Dummies

Chapter Twenty-Three

            “Find Connor,” I state, my eyes scanning the passing students in the hope of spotting that familiar mess of dark hair, “and talk to him. Preferably somewhere Charlotte isn’t.”

            Just as the words leave my mouth, something across the hall catches my eye. The way my head snaps in that direction is almost like an automatic reflex, as if my brain’s become programmed to detect Connor’s presence. And, sure enough, my instincts are right; just in front of the snowflake-ridden poster advertising the Winter Formal, heading for the main staircase, is none other than the guy I’ve been looking for all morning.

            “Got to run,” I tell Ava hastily, sidestepping into the main flow of the hall. This is my golden opportunity and, without my dad and his awful timing around to ruin things, I might actually get somewhere. At least there’s no car nearby to serve as Connor’s escape route when he sees me. Unless he hides out in the boys’ bathroom for the entire day (believe me, I’m not going there), he’s going to have to face me at one point or another.

            And there’s nothing wrong with this point, right now.

            “Um...”

            I don’t get to hear the rest of Ava’s sentence as I’m already whizzing down the hallway, dodging the stream of oncoming classmates with extreme skill and precision (and a whole lot of luck).

            As I quicken my pace, I narrowly miss an overwhelmed freshman, who’s clutching her books tightly to her chest as if they’re some kind of safety shield. Still, I suppose that’s not a bad idea when you’ve got me coming full speed towards you, looking slightly deranged and in hot pursuit of someone on the opposite side of the hallway. Thankfully, at the very last second, she’s able to remove herself from my path and we avoid a collision, which could pose a great risk to my “sprint after Connor and don’t let him out of sight” plan. A couple of mumbled apologies are exchanged just as my target rounds the corner.

            Ugh, this is getting worse than gym class.

            Unfortunately, this thought is enough to falter my concentration for a second – and that second happens to be the precise moment when another familiar guy comes into my line of sight, only giving my brain a chance to register his weirdly close proximity before the two of us slam into each other.

            Well, floor, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?

            Wincing, I lift my head to see Nathan sprawled in an equally odd position as my own just next to me. Our gazes meet and I offer a sheepish smile, wondering why I’ve been cursed with the misfortune of being so clumsy.

            “Well,” he says, pulling himself into a standing position and stretching out his arm to help me too, “I appreciate the affection, but you really didn’t need to rugby tackle me.”

            “Sorry!” Once on my feet again, I brush myself off and readjust my bag on my shoulder, half embarrassed yet half thankful I’ve avoided another Mr. Moore incident. That’s when I get the chance to take a proper look at Nathan; his blonde hair is slightly disheveled but the smile lights up his features completely, and his azure eyes seem to possess an even stronger color in the artificial light of the hall. “My bad.”

            Even though I’ve had a while to take it in, setting eyes upon Nathan triggers a wave of guilt that goes coursing through me. What was I thinking, kissing Connor like that? There’s this guy here, who’s unbelievably sweet and practically perfect – not to mention who actually likes me – yet I still feel the need to go making out with another guy in a store closet.