This Is Kind of an Epic Love Story by Kheryn Callender

Author:Kheryn Callender
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2018-08-21T16:00:00+00:00

12

IT’S KIND OF INSANE HOW QUICKLY THINGS CAN CHANGE. Days pass and Florence still isn’t talking to me, and I don’t really know what to say to her, and as someone who is perpetually awkward, when I don’t know what to say—well, I just don’t speak at all.

Ashley sits with me before school, asking me what happened, saying Flo won’t tell her anything. I don’t want to admit what Florence and I were talking about before she got pissed. Instead, I lie—say that Flo just got randomly angry. Ash promises me she’ll get to the bottom of this with Florence, making me feel even worse for keeping the truth from her.

Things are just as weird with Oliver James—but a different kind of weird. It’s been almost a week since I asked if I could kiss him. We haven’t spoken about it, even though it’s clearly the only thing on our minds. We’ve been hanging out almost every day now, pretty much nonstop, the way we did when we were kids. We walk to school together in the mornings, hang out in the hallways in between classes, sit together during lunch, laugh and talk and act like it never happened, just like we said we would. Other times, I’ll catch him watching me, and I think he might just change his mind about Aiden and lean in to kiss me right there in the middle of school. It’s the sort of tension that makes me want to hide from Ollie all over again.

Oliver James and I sit on the damp benches at lunch and finish up our pre-calc homework before class. Ollie’s using the calculator on his phone, and I’m trying to pay attention, but failing spectacularly.

“This is making my brain hurt.”

Ollie doesn’t notice me trying to speak, so I wave at him. He looks up, surprised. I tap my head, point my two index fingers together. I whip out my phone and type up that I really hate pre-calc—hate it with all the burning passion of hell—and he makes the Y shape with his hand and points the thumb at himself, nodding.

“Then why’re we doing it?”

“Because we’ll fail if we don’t.”

I type on my phone and hand it to him again. What’s the true definition of failing, anyway? I mean, do we really fail just because someone else says so? What if I decide that, by not doing this homework, I’m actually succeeding at life?

He grins as he hands my phone back. “We fail because we don’t graduate.”

I slump over, leaning against him heavily, his hair tickling my ear and my neck—making him laugh and try to push me upright again. He’s smaller, but he’s a pretty strong guy. He’s able to hold me up, hands on my shoulders, fingers squeezing lightly, and there’s a moment where we both pause, and I feel like the most natural thing would be for him to pull me against him right here in the middle of the courtyard, which wouldn’t be the weirdest

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