“I wrote it,” Ronan repeated.
Baskin pursed his lips. “Teachers have methods of knowing if that’s true or not.” He tucked the paper under his arm. “I’ll see you both on Monday, unless there’s anything else?”
“Nothing else,” I said tightly.
Baskin shot us a final dubious glance. We stepped back and he drove away.
“What an asshole,” I burst out when he was gone. “That paper is excellent. It’s smart and strong and…deep. It’s one hundred percent you.”
I felt Ronan’s eyes on me and realized what I’d said. A flush of heat burned my cheeks. “I mean…anyway, whatever, we did it.”
“You did it,” Ronan said. He was looking at me like he had the other night, and the parking lot—the entire planet—suddenly felt very empty. Just him and me…
“It was nothing,” I said.
“You probably saved my grade. That means a lot.”
The moment caught and held. Me, who planned and prepared to the Nth degree, had no clue what was going to happen next. The feeling was woozy and exhilarating at the same time. And completely unacceptable. I was getting in too deep. Too invested in whether or not this guy passed History.
Too invested, period.
“I gotta go,” I blurted. “Lots of work.”
Ronan stiffened. “Yeah, me too.”
We both turned and went our separate ways; from being alone together to just being alone.
Monday afternoon, Violet was absent from History. She’d texted me that she’d been up late studying for the SAT and AP tests. But I knew she was hurting to have to go to school and see Miller holding hands with Amber Blake.
Like a knife in my heart, said her text.
I wished I had something to say to make her feel better, but my own heart was twisted in knots, and talking to Violet about my feelings felt silly compared to everything she was dealing with.
In class, Baskin passed back our Russian Revolution papers. Mine had an A-minus in red ink on the cover page.
“All in all, I’m very impressed,” Baskin said, almost grudgingly. “Some of you picked interesting topics, indeed.” He seemed to look at Ronan when he said this.
I itched to know what grade Ronan had received. Not because I cared all that much, I told myself. But to make sure my efforts hadn’t been in vain.
After class, I waited outside. “Well?”
“B-minus,” Ronan said.
“What? That’s bullshit. Your paper was better than mine.”
“I passed. Thanks to you.”
“Nah, I told you. It was nothing.”
“It wasn’t nothing. I appreciate it. A lot.” His gray eyes met mine. “Thank you.”
I started to make a joke—my usual defense. Instead, I said softly, “You’re welcome.”
Ronan glanced around and rubbed the back of his neck like he was nervous. It was a strange look on him…and sweet.
“So listen, I was thinking. There’s this place…”
I held perfectly still, my pulse counting down the seconds until his next words.