“Really?” She beamed. “I was going to ask during class, but he’s not here. If you know how to contact him, would you mind asking him for me?”
I wasn’t sure how to tell her that it wasn’t my place to ask him for things like that. But she looked so excited and hopeful.
“If I see him again, I’ll ask,” I said.
“Thank you!” She looked as if she wanted to throw her arms around me in a giant hug, but she held herself back, no doubt realizing how weird it would be to glomp onto a total stranger. “I really appreciate it.”
“I don’t know the next time I’ll see him, though,” I told her, wanting to manage expectations. “It’s not like we hang out or anything.”
That was sort of a lie. We’d hung out a couple times, if you counted the after-party and our pastry adventures. But it was true that I had no idea when I’d see him again. He had probably already forgotten about me. Sure, we’d had fun a few times, but he hadn’t even noticed that I’d left during that fan-mob at the cafe. And he hadn’t come to today’s class. Whatever interest he had in me must have waned.
I didn’t know why that thought bothered me. It was to be expected, of course. A guy like him, with as many women as he cared to have at his beck and call? There was no reason why he’d pay any particular mind to me.
“I’m Stacey,” the fan told me as she scribbled something down on a piece of paper. “If Zain Weston is interested, can you give him my number?” She chewed on her lip, looking desperate. “I won’t bother him or anything,” she said. “I’m not a creepy stalker, I promise.”
I hid a smile. “I’ll pass along the message, if I can.”
The girl practically bounced back to her station with a hop in her step.
Class ended soon after. I was the last person to leave since I had to clean up the disaster I’d made. Even the instructor had left. I was just wiping down the counter when someone opened the classroom door. I didn’t look up, assuming it was a student who had forgotten something.
“Hey, Grace,” said a familiar voice.
I whipped my head up, startled.
It was Zain.
Twelve
Zain
“If I didn’t know any better,” Kaylee started, popping her head into my room. “I’d almost say you were moping.”
I jumped a foot off the bed, alarmed at the intrusion. Music sheets scattered everywhere.
“Shit, Kay, don’t scare me like that,” I said.
“Boo.” She flashed me a cheeky smile. “Whatcha doin’ in here all alone by yourself?”
“Working.” I gathered up the papers and shuffled them into order. “I thought you had class today.”
“I never have class on Wednesday,” she said.
“It’s Wednesday?” I groaned. “Shit.”
“Is there something important about the middle of the week?” she asked in a sing-song voice.
“Have you been talking to Finn?” I asked, eyeing her.
“Maybe,” she drawled. “I think there’s a certain activity taking place on Wednesdays? Involving a girl, perhaps?”
“Does everyone in this house need to stick their nose in my business?” It was a rhetorical question because I knew the answer already.
“When your business makes you switch between moping around the house and stomping around the house,” she said, “then yeah, it’s our business.”
“I’m not mopingorstomping.”
“You’ve been shaking the walls,” she said. “You’ve got a rain cloud hovering above your head.”
