Page 8 of First Echo
She ignored my attempt to redirect her attention and cocked her head. “Tell me then—what is it that Brooke Winters does all day besides being a nerd?”
The wordnerdstung, even though I already suspected she thought of me that way. I hated that she had no issue throwing the insult around, especially consideringshe’sthe one who neededmyhelp. But I tried to stay calm.
“No, we should really keep going,” I said, voice clipped. “We have a lot to do.”
“No.” Her arms folded across her chest in a resolute, final manner.
I blinked. “No? What do you mean,no?”
“I mean no,” she said simply. “We’re not continuing until you tell me what you do every day.”
“Why are you so interested in my life all of a sudden?” I asked, my irritation mounting.
She paused, her gaze flicking momentarily to the paintings on the wall before landing back on me. “I’m just curious, that’s all.”
There was something about the set of her jaw, something stubborn and yet strangely genuine. I felt the prick of frustration—and something else I couldn’t name. It made my face feel hot,and my chest tightened in ways that were unfamiliar. I hated it, but I also felt a tiny spark of… I don’t know. Maybe it was intrigue.
“Fine, if you really want to know.” I sighed, setting the textbook down beside me.
“I do,” she said again, more softly this time. No sarcasm, no bite. Just an earnest interest that almost disarmed me.
“After school, I study for a bit,” I began hesitantly, “sometimes I go to the gym, then I watch Netflix or read a book before bed. Not very exciting, I know.”
She looked at me like I’d just announced I was an alien from another planet. Her eyes widened slightly, her mouth parting in surprise, which quickly turned into an amused grin.
“What is it?” I asked, face warming.
“Okay, first of all… you go to the gym?” she said, obviously struggling not to laugh.
“Yes. Yes, I do,” I answered, lifting my chin. “You can’t tell?”
She snorted, a real, unguarded laugh. “Not really, no.”
I rolled my eyes, but a small grin snuck onto my lips. “Wow. Thanks.”
“Second of all, the studying and reading, yeah, I can see that,” she continued, “but Netflix? That, I cannot believe.”
“Well, you better start believing it. Because it’s the truth.”
She narrowed her eyes playfully. “Prove it. What’s your favorite show?”
I felt a pang of apprehension.If I tell her it’s Game of Thrones,she’ll have a field day. I imagined her smug face, calling me asuper-nerdfor loving dragons, medieval politics, and epic battles. My gaze flicked around her room, searching for an alternative. Some random show name popped into my head—Gossip Girl,a show I could totally picture Madeline starring in.
“Gossip Girl,” I said confidently, trying to keep a straight face.
She actually burst out laughing. It was a musical sound, equal parts amusement and disbelief. “No, it’s not,” she said, wiping a nonexistent tear from her eye. “That was a decent try, but I can see right through you. Now tell me the truth. I wouldn’t lie to you.”
Her words made me pause.I wouldn’t lie to you.It was such a strange thing to say, coming from her. It felt oddly personal, like she was trying to form some sort of connection.
I swallowed, feeling my face grow hot again. “Okay, okay, fine. I’ll tell you. It’s Game of Thrones.”
She smirked, clearly satisfied. “See? Iknewyou were a nerd.”
My jaw tightened. “You know, I really hate that word.”
“Noted,” she said with a lazy grin.
“Alright,” I said, flipping open the chemistry book again. “Now that you’ve pried into my personal life, can we please get back to studying?”
