Read The Distance from A to Z for Free Online

in.
    â€œWe’re together for all eight weeks,” Zeke says, scootinghis chair closer to me. He puts his hand on my shoulder, the hand that had been on Stephie’s back. I try to shrug it off but Zeke doesn’t move.
    â€œEnough,” I whisper loudly to him when Drew has turned to the person at the next table, a woman with a shoulder-length bob.
    Eighty hours? I’m going to need to spend an additional eighty hours with this guy?
    Merde .

FOUR
    â€œSORRY YOUR GIRLFRIEND DIDN’T MAKE it in to the class,” I snicker to Zeke as we exit the room. My brain is hurting from all the words I’ve copied down and the additional assignments Marianne has given us, including a written critique of a newspaper article. Three hours of French that pushes my ability level, and I have a royal headache.
    A headache that is further exacerbated by Zeke’s calm and collected manner, the ease with which he flips his backpack over one shoulder, his open smile.
    That and the fact I missed my full dose of morning coffee due to my extreme spill earlier.
    Basically it’s a miracle I’m still standing and stringing words together like a normal person. Albeit a normal bitchy person.
    Zeke’s lip curls a little and the look he’s giving me says he can see right through me and my bitchiness has nothing todo with French verb tenses and assignments and the lack of coffee. That it has everything to do with a redhead whose back he was grazing with his fingertips.
    â€œI met her last night at dinner. She’s hardly girlfriend material. Yet.”
    â€œGood luck with that,” I snap.
    The edge in my voice seems to only widen his smile and that irks me more. I want unflappable, happy-go-lucky Zeke to stop toying with me by . . . being nice. All he’s doing is being nice and friendly.
    What I really need is to get some exercise, work off this tension. Because between the extended car ride with my brothers and then this morning’s epic fail with my coffee, I’m turning into someone I’m not.
    Or at least I don’t want to be.
    It’s only when we get to the hallway that I notice Zeke’s limp.
    â€œWhat’s wrong with your leg?”
    It wasn’t meant as a mean comment but given its close proximity to the rest of my unpleasantness, I can certainly understand why it causes Zeke’s smile to drop, his eyes to roll up. “What’s your problem with me?” he says, taking a step away.
    â€œI’m sorry,” I say, burying the words beneath the sound of his bright red Chucks smacking against the linoleumflooring. “I’m not good without coffee in the morning.”
    He stops, breathing in and out, and something tells me it isn’t just the agitation with my bitchiness. He opens his mouth and closes it again, shaking his head. “My leg is fine,” he says, the meaning behind it loud and clear. Drop it.
    And he’s right. It’s none of my business. And if I’m going to succeed in this class, I can’t be fighting with my partner. Time to make amends.
    â€œIf you wouldn’t mind helping me get some more caffeine into my body, we can plan out how we’ll get this crazy amount of work accomplished. I’ll even buy the coffee treats.” It’s an olive branch and at first I think he’s not going to take it. His eyes are wary and his shoulders are more stooped than before.
    Unflappable Zeke has been flapped.
    Bravo, Abby , bravo .
    â€œPlease?” I add, and he nods. I’m sure the campus coffee shop will have enough sugary treats to make a dent in his misery.
    Turns out that dent requires three bagels, an extra-large iced sugary coffee confection, and a chocolate chunk cookie.
    And that’s before I put in my order.
    â€œSo what did you think of class?” he asks, a thin line of chocolate on his top lip. A thin line I can’t stop staring at.
    Not because it’s Zeke’s lips. Not because