“Design and tech.”
I stared at his hands, feeling somewhat envious. I’d been rubbish in design and tech. I tried to make a Perspex clock in the shape of a star and it ended up looking like… well… a star that had been in a car crash. My metal coat pegs almost caused me a fatality of the thumb and my wooden pencil case didn’t close correctly. “You must be really good at it to be taking it in fifth year.”
He didn’t say anything, just scowled at a leaf that skittered by on the pavement.
Hmm. “So what do you want to be?”
He shot a quizzical look my way. “What do you want to be?”
“It changes every few months,” I answered in consternation. My friends all knew what they wanted to be when they were older. I still hadn’t made up my mind between a writer, a teacher, a doctor, or a librarian. “I really need to focus.”
“Maybe you should be a reporter.”
I snorted at his teasing. “The twenty questions? Right. Sorry.”
“It doesn’t bother me.” His eyebrows drew together, as if he were surprised by his own confession.
Encouraged, I jumped to my next question. “D’Alessandro? Like the restaurant?” There was an Italian restaurant with that name, only a five-minute walk from my house.
“It’s my uncle’s.”
“Great food,” I said honestly.
Again, he didn’t respond.
I got the feeling he didn’t want to chat about anything related to family. “I heard the pizza in Chicago is the best.”
That received a grin. “You heard right.”
“Do you miss your friends there?”
He was quiet again, so I thought he wasn’t going to answer this one either. I was thinking it was a no-go on any really personal questions, but then… “I didn’t really have friends. Not good ones anyway.”
Our footsteps slowed as we found ourselves on my street. I squinted against the sunlight peeking through a cloud as I looked up at him. “I hope you’ve found good ones here.”
When he looked at me my heart almost puttered to a stop at the warmth in his eyes. “You got a name?” he asked softly.
I shivered, not understanding my body’s reaction to him. “Hannah Nichols.”
He smiled, drawing to a stop to hold out his large hand.
Feeling the butterflies riot in my belly, I determinedly ignored them and placed my small hand in his. I tried to hide my reaction to the tingling that shot up my arm from where we touched. I wanted to tighten my grip and had to mentally stop myself from doing so.
“Nice to meet you, Hannah.”
“You too. Thanks for helping me out with Jenks. And for walking me home.”
“Not a problem.” He let go of my hand and I instantly bemoaned the loss of his touch. He took a step back, preparing to leave, but I grew still at the suddenly stern expression on his face. “Try not to miss the bus again.”
He disappeared down the street before I could say anything, and I stared after his broad back, feeling so many things I’d never felt before.
After walking into my house, only to spend the evening distracted, I came to one conclusion: I had my first crush. On Marco D’Alessandro.
I should have joined the debate team. I shook my head, marching toward the main exit of the school and cursing my shyness to hell. At the beginning of the year my politics teacher had asked me to join the school debate team, and because I was sure I’d never be able to speak up and articulate in person what I was so good at saying on paper, I’d turned the offer down.
Now I’d missed the bus because I’d come across the team working in an empty music classroom and had stopped to listen to them. I’d been filled with the sudden urge to just stride in, introduce myself, and start airing my opinions. I had loads of opinions inside of me. I also had this fear that one day they’d just explode out of me, wreaking havoc and leaving disaster in their wake.
There were so many things I was missing out on because of how damn quiet I was. And in truth, I wasn’t really that quiet anymore. I said what I thought at home, consequences be damned.
I frowned back in the direction of the school as I opened the exit door. It was definitely time for a change. I could feel it coming.
With a sigh of regret, I hurried forward, my eyes searching out Marco and finding him waiting alone by the gate for me.