And now we’re both just standing there. I wrack my brain, trying to think of something interesting to say before he walks away. “Did you get to your math homework yet?”
That’ll do.
He shakes his head. “No. I’ve been busy with thedebate since school ended.”
“Oh. Right.” Duh. Obviously. God, why do I sound like such a moron? “Well, I did it, and it wasn’t too bad.”
Actually, that’s a total lie. There was no way I could focus on math homework when I knew I’d be seeing Liam shortly.
“Okay, good.” He coughs again. “Hey, listen, Olivia, me and some guys from track are going to Charlie’s tomorrow after school, just to hang out and get some food. Would you… I mean, do you want to come with us?”
I stare at him. Is heasking me out? “I…”
The smile on his face falters. “It’s no big deal. Either way.”
“No, I mean… yes. I would like to come. That would be great. It sounds like… fun. You know.”
His brown eyes light up. “Yeah, it’s going to be a lot of fun.”
“Yeah.” My mouth feels almost too dry to speak.
“So… do you want to meet in front of the school at four-thirty? It’s after practice, and we need time to, you know, shower and stuff.”
I nod. “Okay. I’ll be there.”
Okay, maybe it isn’t an official date. But I really think Liam might like me. I mean, he seemed really happy when I said yes. And he wants to shower beforehand so he smells good. So, these are all good signs.
Oh my God, I’ve got a date with Liam. I’m so happy!
Chapter Eight
ERIKA
Liam is a brilliant public speaker. He’s always been good at getting in front of a crowd and doing his thing. If he were different, he would be perfect for politics. He speaks well, he’s good-looking, and he’s incredibly smart. My son is so many good things.
Before the debate begins, Liam is deep in conversation with a beautiful girl. She seems to also be on the debate team, but she looks like she could be a model. She has blond hair that appears professionally styled. And given how skinny she is, it’s amazing how large her breasts are. Do sixteen-year-old girls get implants? I’m horrified by the idea of it.
There’s a woman next to me who is fiddling with her cell phone. The gray laced through her hair makes me think she’s about my age—probably another parent. “Excuse me,” I say.
She looks up and smiles pleasantly. “Yes?”
“Do you know the name of the blond girl on the stage? The one in the yellow blouse.”
The woman nods. “That’s Olivia Reynolds. She’s a really strong debater. But not as good as the boy. Liam.”
“Liam is my son,” I say, allowing for an instant that touch of pride I often deny myself when I talk about Liam these days.
“Is he?” The woman’s eyes light up. “Well, he is absolutelywonderful. Very talented. You must be really proud of him. I wish my son could speak half as well.”
I smile, trying to enjoy the compliment, but my mind is racing. Olivia Reynolds. That’s the girl Liam is interested in. And it’s not surprising, because she is absolutely beautiful. Of course Liam would like her.
I’ve got to fix this.
I excuse myself from this woman who won’t stop gushing about my son, and I step out of the auditorium. I just need to make a quick call. I’ll be back in time for the debate.
I check the contacts on my phone, searching for the name Frank Marino. My heart is pounding as I click on his name. The phone rings once. Then again.
It’s Frank. Leave a message.
