Up close I could smell her perfume. Citrus, I decided. She smelled vibrant and ambrosial. It was mild enough that I didn’t feel that usual jolt of pain between my eyes that I associated with overbearing fragrances. In spite of myself, I grinned before glancing down at my twiddling thumbs. “I’m glad you did.”

Connie’s lips twitched. “It wasn’t half as nerdy as I expected it to be.”

“Why did you think it was gonna be nerdy? It’s a kid’s book.”

“Well—you recommended it, for one.”

I stammered, trying to subdue my blushing cheeks. “Wha—I don’t—I’m not a nerd!” My eyes lowered. “I’m not a nerd.”

Connie laughed, a fascinating sound that I longed to hear again. Something tugged in my chest—a sense of pride, perhaps, that I was the source of that sound. Very often I saw her in the corridor laughing with her friends but knowing that I caused her green eyes to dance with such mirth made that the most beautiful sound in the world. “Yes, yes you are. You might be notoriously quiet and you don’t speak up in class, but I’ve seen your test results. You’re top of the year in English.”

“How do you know that?”

“My head isn’t completely up my arse, you know. I like to learn things about people.”

“That’s beside the point. I’m not a nerd. Narnia are kids’ books.”

“It didn’t feel like a kid book to me.”

“Well…” I cleared my throat. “What is your favorite book then?”

She laughed again, a little lighter, her eyes crinkling at the corner. “As if I’m going to tell you that. I’d bet money that you’re a massive book snob.”

“Not true.”

“I bet you’re a pretentious git, Alex Ryan.”

“You don’t know me at all! You’re basing this on silly presumptions you have about me.”

“Alright. Prove me wrong.” She clicked her teeth and peered at me, a challenge quivering in her gaze. “What’s your favorite book?”

“Well, that’s easy. Gone with the Wind.”

“Gone with the—is that the brick I’ve seen you reading?”

I read Gone with the Wind for the first time that Christmas and read it an infinite number of times since. Sometimes I snuck it into class with me and stole a few pages when the Sisters turned their backs. A commendable task of course, given the size of it. I blushed at the thought that she had seen me hiding the book in class to read when Sister Anna was on a tangent. “Maybe.”

“Why would you bother reading something that long? It’d take me a year!”

“I finished it in twenty-four hours the first time I read it.”

“Jesus! See, I knew you were a snob. You big nerd.”

“Why won’t you tell me yours?”

“I don’t want to,” she replied, but there was mischief in her eyes. Something about her goaded me into feeling bold.

“Afraid I’ll tease you?”

“Yes. Or, worse, you’ll tell someone.”

“You don’t trust me? It’s not like I’ve got anyone to tell,” I retorted with a shrug.