Free The Trouble With Flirting by Rachel Morgan Page B

Charlotte says. “Wow. That’s extreme.”
    “I, uh, may have had a habit of lying to my parents about test results at school. They like to see proof now. They—Hey, since when do you wear glasses?” she says to me.
    “Uh, since always,” I admit. “I usually wear contacts.”
    “Oh.” Allegra tilts her head as she examines my face. “They’re cute. You should wear them more often.”
    “I should? You don’t think glasses are too … nerdy?”
    “Well, spectacles do sort of have that nerd vibe,” Charlotte says, “but as long as they’re a trendy design and the shape suits your face, they can make you look both intelligent and attractive at the same time.”
    Allegra nods. “Yeah. That. I’m just a bit too tired right now to make my thoughts come out clearly.”
    At the front of the lecture theatre, Professor Batch organises a pile of papers. “No more talking, please,” he booms. “I’m about to hand out the question papers.”
    I try to quiet my brain and recall the main points from all the summaries I made in the past twenty-four hours, but I’m distracted by the guy three rows down who just turned around. The guy smiling at me and mouthing, “Good luck.”
    Jackson.
    Focus, Livi, focus.
    I smile back, then turn my attention to the paper that just landed on the desk in front of me.

    ***

    “That wasn’t so bad, huh?” Jackson leans in the doorway of the lecture theatre, waiting for me. He’s never waited for me before. Something must be different.
    “Yes, I’m quite surprised,” I say. “I was expecting it to be a lot worse.” I reach up to tuck my hair behind my ear, mainly because I don’t know what else to do with my hands.
    Allegra and Co. walk past us. Allegra winks while Charlotte and Amber argue about question twelve.
    Jackson tilts his head to the side. “I like your hair like that. It’s … natural.”
    Holy pink Power Ranger. Here I am on my worst day ever and I’ve already received two compliments? I’ve obviously missed something about the way the world works.
    “Come on, let’s get to Stats,” Jackson says.
    I manage to refrain from squealing as we head to our next lecture venue together. I let my hand dangle casually between us, just in case he wants to hold it. Oh my hat, I am pathetic . Here I am getting all giggly-excited about HAND HOLDING. I can’t help it, though. I’ve only ever had one boyfriend, and he didn’t wait after class for me. He didn’t hold my hand in public, either. We exchanged smiles across the corridors and notes during English and History, but we kept our hanging out for after school. As if it would have been weird to be seen together in front of everyone else. Or something. I can’t remember. We were both orchestra geeks, so perhaps that explains it.
    Of course, my German prince Carl held my hand, but it never happened in public. None of our exchanges ever took place in public.
    “So, uh, we missed you on Saturday at The Banana Pearl ,” I say with a sideways glance at Jackson. I add in a half-smile that’s supposed to look cute and upset at the same time.
    “Ya, no, I wish I could have been there. I had to take on a late shift at work. Only got home around midnight, and then …” He gives me an apologetic look. “Well, I was kinda beat.”
    “Oh, yeah, okay, that’s cool. Where do you work?”
    He scratches his head. “Uh, at the cinema. Kinda lame, I know.”
    “What? No. That’s really cool. Do you get to watch all the movies?”
    He laughs. “Not exactly. I do more of the glamorous work like collecting tickets and sweeping popcorn off the floor.”
    My laughter joins his. My mother would be horrified to learn that I’m interested in a popcorn sweeper, but Jackson’s job—and the fact that he can joke about it—makes him even more adorable to me.
    If only he would attempt to hold my hand now.
    No such luck. We make it to our Statistics lecture without our hands even brushing, but it’s hard to feel disappointed when