Lessons in Love (Flirt) by A. Destiny, Catherine Hapka Read Free Book Online Page B

Wren’s name suited her—she was small and birdlike in her movements, with piercing dark eyes. She taught a couple of remedial freshman math classes as well as gym, and also coached girls’ softball and boys’ track.
    “Listen up, people!” she said. “I’ve got papers to grade today, so you’re doing independent exercise.”
    “Whoo-hoo!” Matt shouted, pumping his fist in the air.
    Ms. Wren fixed her sharp gaze on him. “That does not mean goofing off, Matthew. I expect you all to work up a sweat, understand? Hit the weight room, everyone—I’ll be watching.”
    She shooed us toward the weight room adjoining the main part of the gym. Some rich old alumnus had donated a bunch of money a few years earlier, so the place was actually pretty well equipped. There were mats with our school logo on them, a row of free weights along one wall, and all kinds of other exercise machines. Not that I would know good gym equipment from bad, but Zoe claimed it was top of the line.
    Once we got inside, Zoe wandered off to stretch or something with the other softball girls, leaving me alone with Simone at last. “Listen . . . ,” I began uncertainly.
    Simone wasn’t paying attention. “Look, Matt and Darius are over by the free weights,” she said. “Let’s go make fun of their technique, okay?”
    “Wait!” I grabbed her arm before she could rush off to join the boys. “Can we just do our own thing for a sec?” I waved at a machine nearby. “I need to talk to you.”
    “Is it about the test?” Simone looked anxious. “Do you think I’m going to flunk?”
    “No. It’s just—come on.” I dragged her toward the machine.
    “Okay, spot me.” She sat down and adjusted the weights, then started doing leg lifts. “So what’s up, Bails?”
    “It’s about, um, Logan.” I held my breath, hoping she wouldn’t shriek or squeal or anything. At least not too loudly.
    “Logan?” She stopped the leg lifts and stared at me, a smile playing around the edges of her mouth. “What about him? I’m right, aren’t I? You finally decided you’re destined to be together and want me to be the first to know?”
    “No. I mean maybe. I mean . . .” I took a deep breath. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on, okay? That’s why I need to talk to you.”
    She did another leg lift. “Tell me,” she said simply.
    So I did. I filled her in on everything that had happened in art class, and the confusing thoughts and feelings that had resulted. She listened quietly, her legs steadily pumping up and down.
    “. . . so then we walked out together, and we were saying good-bye out in the hall before he went to his next class, and things got a little awkward again,” I finished. “He kind of squeezed my arm, and then acted like he wished he hadn’t, and—”
    “Wait—he touched you?” Her big brown eyes got even bigger. Dropping the weights, she sat up and spun on the machine’s vinyl seat so she was facing me. “Okay, that’s major!”
    “No, wait, it wasn’t a big deal.” I immediately guessed by her reaction that I must have overstated what had happened. “I mean, it was just a quick shoulder squeeze. Like this.”
    I demonstrated on her. She nodded.
    “Okay, but it’s still him touching you. That’s key,” she said. “I mean, how often do random boys just touch you?”
    I thought about that. Not counting adults (like my dad and uncle) or little kids, or random idiots crashing into me accidentally in the halls because they were horsing around, I couldn’t remember the last time a male of the species had made casual skin-to-skin contact. Or skin-to-shirt. Whatever.
    Still, I wanted to be logical about this. Study the issue from every angle. Not jump to any conclusions.
    “Okay,” I said. “But still, Logan has lived all over the world. Maybe he’s used to, like, touchier cultures or something.”
    Simone rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Why can’t you get it through your thick head, Bails? Logan is