“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I laughed.

Against my lips, she whispered, “I’m not.”

After Noelle got the next question wrong (she was too busy playing with my fingers to really listen), it was her turn to read the next one for me.

However, instead she suddenly asked, “Hey . . . can I tell you something?”

I nodded, leaning back a little to get rid of the kiss-induced fog in my head.

Noelle’s expression was much more serious now, her fingers nervously fidgeting, so I gently clasped her hands with mine.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, you know?”

“No,” she said. “I told you I would try to be more open with you.”

I gave her an encouraging smile. “Okay. I’m all ears.”

“So . . . you probably noticed how I read in a . . . weird way?”

she asked in an uncertain voice.

“It’s not weird.”

“You know what I mean, all the pauses and words I skip and stuff.”

I silently looked at her, willing her to go on.

“I’m dyslexic.”

“I kind of assumed that already.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” I reached out to tuck a curl behind her ear. “Why were you so nervous about telling me?”

“I don’t know, it’s stupid really,” she said, her eyes fixed on a dent in the table. “I guess I didn’t want you to think I’m dumb or anything.”

“Why would I think that?”

“I don’t know.” Noelle shrugged. “It’s just that I still have problems reading out loud and sometimes in quiet, too, and my spelling and grammar and all of that are shit.”

“Is that why you never read out loud in class?”

“Yeah. And it’s also why I was acting like a dick when you went through my notes during your first week here. I didn’t want you to find out that way. Do you remember that?”

“Oh my God, that was the reason?” I asked. “Jesus, I thought you were hiding something much worse.”

“Like what?”

“Like notes for The Chitter Chatter.”

Noelle blinked a few times like she wasn’t sure she had heard me right. Then, she burst out laughing. “You really thought I was The Watcher?”

Now that I said it out loud, I felt stupid. “Well, what did you expect when you acted all mean and mysterious?”

“Evelyn, have you ever seen me voluntarily read a book or set foot in this library? Does it seem like I have the patience or the vocabulary to regularly write blog entries?”

“I don’t know,” I chuckled. Desperate to change the subject, I picked up the worksheet again. “Let’s do a few more questions.”

She agreed, and soon we were back to quietly asking and answering and exchanging short kisses.

That was until someone suddenly cleared their throat behind us. With my heart feeling like it was being dropped from the castle’s highest tower, I immediately lowered my hands that had been tangled in Noelle’s hair. No one ever came here on a regular day, which was the only reason I hadn’t been concerned about kissing Noelle here.