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glanced back into the classroom and saw Mr. Rathi pulling Max Hunter aside. The teacher placed a sympathetic hand on the boy’s shoulder. Max responded with a sheepish grin.
    It appeared that his cheeks were in fact dimpled.
    “Better…definitely better,” she signed distractedly to Felix.
    Max exited the classroom, walking past Felix and Portia, nodding a quick acknowledgement her way.
    As he walked out of sight, Portia saw him secure a pair of ear buds into his ears and adjust his iPod. She wondered what he was listening to.
    Something told her it was definitely not Derek Delacroix.
    ♪
    As the day wore on, Portia tried to focus on all of her new classes, but her mind kept flashing its official new screensaver—the magnificent face of Max Hunter.
    At the beginning of each class, she surveyed the room to see if he was there. A part of her was relieved when he wasn’t, but another part of her felt an unabashed desire to see him again.
    She was about to accept that she would have to wait until Mr. Rathi’s next class when suddenly he walked into AP French. Something about his gait was noncommittal—as if he was present, but a part of him was elsewhere. Once again he had Portia’s full attention as he offered the teacher a flawless, “Bonjour, Je suis Max Hunter…”
    Seated in the back row, a spot she always reserved for foreign language classes in an effort to divert attention from her inability to execute the spoken word, Portia squirmed in her seat. Max caught her eye and motioned to the empty seat beside her. Her heart pounded as she indicated that it was as yet unoccupied.
    “Hey,” he offered as he stuffed his long legs into the cramped space under the desk.
    Portia nodded in response, strategizing in her head what the best approach would be to explain her handicap to him.
    “Portia, right? Griffin, I think I heard someone say? I really enjoyed your comments in Rathi’s class today. I’m sorry if I came off a little harsh. You know—cross to bear and all that…”
    There was that disarming smile again.
    Portia always hated this part. The explaining. In her iPhone notes she had a typed explanation of her handicap and was about to pull it up when he handed her his own phone, setting it to text mode.
    How did he know? Had he been asking about her?
    No, stupid, he saw you use your laptop in Rathi’s class. That was pretty much a dead giveaway. Pull yourself together!
    She couldn’t believe that this guy had reduced her to such silly schoolgirl mode after only one encounter.
    “Nice to meet you, Max,” she typed and then, before she could stop herself, added, “I think.” She handed the phone to him with a smile that she hoped he would read as flirtatious.
    Reign it in, Portia! You’ve known the guy for like less than five minutes!
    But since their earlier meeting, she felt like she had been perched at the top of a roller coaster, knowing that the thrill of the ride was only a moment away. And now that he was here again, she felt that speedy downhill rush. And it didn’t disappoint.
    His lips curled toward a smile, a hint of mischief in his eyes. She noticed that he had the ability to flex just one of his dimples while the other remained dormant.
    “Oh, come on, I’m not so bad. I actually felt like we had a connection in class earlier today.”
    “Is that what you would call it?” she typed out. “I would have gone with ‘intellectual ambush.’ ”
    Max read her response. A darkness veiled his face, adding another dimension to his beauty.
    “I’m sorry, Portia Griffin. I guess some things still set me off.”
    “Like Derek Delacroix?” she wrote.
    “Yeah, like Delacroix…” he offered. He parted his lips as if to say something else but then thought the better of it. Instead he ran his hands through his mess of hair, a mild look of frustration settling upon his flawless face while he opened his notebook.
    Class began before Portia could eke out another written message. She was grateful