Time Between Us Read Online Free PDF

like a complete moron—I lower my gaze to his mouth to find that it’s not only his eyes that are smiling. His mouth is too. Like he’s amused. Like he’s laughing at me. And that’s when I realize I’m missing something.
    He points with his chin, attempting to direct my attention away from his face and toward the hand he’s been extending in my direction this entire time. The one holding a pencil.
    I look at it, and then back at his eyes, puzzled. Then understanding takes over, and I reach forward and take it from him.
    Thanks , I mouth.
    I turn toward the front of the room, stick the pencil through my hair, and get self-conscious when I realize that in the process I’m revealing the flush creeping up the back of my neck. I take a deep breath and force myself to pay attention to the quiz, which has already begun, but I can’t stop the smile creeping onto my face.
    He was paying attention to me yesterday. He noticed me put my hair up.
    It’s probably just a plain yellow Dixon Ticonderoga number two pencil—exactly the same as the one I’m using to complete this ridiculous quiz—but perched in my hair, holding the strands in place, it feels a lot like what we had at the track yesterday: a connection.

    Somehow I’ve managed to go all day without running into Emma. Until now.
    I just finished track practice and I’m walking out of the locker room, heading for the student lot and chatting with a few of my teammates, when I see her. She’s striding toward her car with her field hockey stick swinging by her side as she moves, and even though I assume she broke into a sweat at some point you’d never know now. Her makeup looks perfect, and her knit cap and gloves match the piping on her warm-up suit. I look down at my sweats. I came straight out of the shower, towel-dried my hair, and piled it under a baseball cap to keep it from freezing on my walk home.
    “I’ll get the heat going!” she yells when she sees me. After she opens the door and starts the engine, she gets out of the car and relaxes against the hood, waiting for me.
    I take a quick look up at the sky and see a mass of dark clouds moving into formation, preparing to send down fury in the form of hard snow. I look down again and see Emma, smiling and beckoning. For just a split second, my resolve melts a little and I picture myself collapsing into the heated seat. I really don’t want to walk home. But there is no way, no way , I’m letting her off that easy.
    I keep walking with the group, straight past her car.
    “Anna!” I can hear the shock and hurt in her voice. “Wait.” The sound of her tennis shoes padding cautiously behind me closes in and I pick up my pace a little. “Seriously, can’t you just stop and talk to me? I’m trying to apologize.” My teammates look at me and then at one another. I wave them on and slow down so Emma can catch up.
    She grabs me by the shoulder. “I really am sorry.” Her remorse looks genuine and her British accent makes her sound so sincere that I’m tempted to throw my arms around her and forgive her without another word. But I haven’t forgotten how mortified I felt yesterday, how she made a fool of me. And so instead, I just stare at her.
    “I’m sorry,” she repeats, and hugs me. I want to hug her back but instead stand rigid.
    Her grip loosens, and when she steps back from me I can see how hurt she looks. But then her expression softens and she reaches forward, takes my face in her hands, and squeezes my cheeks in a soft-mittened vise grip. “I was an ass. Please don’t be mad at me anymore. I simply can’t take it.”
    I let out a sigh. “That was really uncool.” My voice comes out garbled since she’s now squeezing so hard my lips are pursed in a fish face.
    “I know. But you love me anyway, right?” She wiggles my cheeks. “Right? Just a little?” And that’s all it takes. Because I do. When I try not to laugh, my lips must look even funnier, because Emma lets out a snort, and