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grading and stuff to do at home. I’ll be back in a sec.”
    That’s some good information—that his mother is a science teacher. I love science. Maybe one day that’ll work in my favor to win hers. With Marco gone, I’m tempted to snoop around the kitchen, but I don’t. Even if his on-again girl is back in the picture and I’m mega-confused about whether I’m even ready for a boyfriend, maybe by the time I finally figure it out, Marco will have remembered why he left Angelique in the first place. I’d hate to ruin my chances all because I couldn’t help my nosey self. So I check out what I can from my seat at the table.
    It’s amazing what you can learn from a family’s refrigerator door, and what I learn in two minutes is that Marco is clearly the star of the family and he isn’t even an only child. His older brother is away in the military, but still . . . Marco is in every last picture, at the center of them all. My mom has a couple of me on the fridge, but they’re mixed in with my grandparents, Lana’s cop friends during a girls’ night, her partner Falcone holding a big fish he’d just caught, and there are one or two people I don’t recognize. And my photos are recent. Marco’s family has pictures of him ranging from his first birthday right up to him in his Langdon Knights football uniform. I’m the first to admit he’s the cutest thing ever, but somebody went overboard. There’s one photo with another boy besides Marco, who I’m guessing is his brother, though he looks too young. I’m about to go in for a closer look, but just then, Marco returns with my notebook.
    â€œThanks,” we say at the same time, to which I add, “Jinx!” and immediately feel like a dork. I bet Angelique acts like she’s seventeen instead of seven, though in my defense, I’m not even sixteen yet. I’m relieved when the microwave pings and hopefully distracts him.
    â€œI can’t believe you stood out in the cold waiting for me,” Marco says as he hands me the mug. Our fingers touch just for a second, but it warms me more than the cocoa will. He turns a chair backward, straddles it, and leans his arms against the back. I love the way guys do that.
    â€œI didn’t want you to flunk French because of me.”
    â€œStill, that’s pretty dedicated. I mean, it’s what—fifty degrees out?”
    The way he says it, I’m beginning to feel less like a considerate study partner and more like a desperate ex-girlfriend. It doesn’t help that I keep staring at his shoulders and how they look a little broader than I remember. Must be all the football workouts.
    â€œWhat?” he asks, smiling. Oh my God, did he notice me staring? If he did, he decides to let me off the hook. “I need to send a quick text, then we can hit the books.”
    He keeps talking while he texts. I try hard not to stare at him even though he’s looking down at his phone. I notice his hair is still the teeniest bit damp from his after-practice shower.
    â€œI thought what’s-his-name gave you a ride home.”
    â€œReginald? He did.”
    â€œBut you still have a full backpack. And you’re still in your school uniform.”
    Dang with all the questions. He’s been hanging around me too much.
    â€œOkay, so he didn’t take me home. We went to Tastee Treets, but before we made our order, I realized you and I really needed to get started on the project. I told Reginald I’d have to take a rain check and walked straight here, full backpack, uniform and all,” I lie, hoping he didn’t notice how I kept fidgeting as I told it, even though it’s only partly a lie. I can sell a lie to just about anyone, even Lana half the time, but not so much with Marco. Maybe I did have ulterior motives for dropping by.
    â€œIs anything else going on? You seem different than when I saw you a