35
You’d think after pushing a guy so hard he lost his footing and had to stumble backward three or four feet before catching himself, he’d take the hint and go bother some other girl. But not Greg.
“Cat, I’m so sorry.” He intercepted me as I came out of Mr. Fizer’s class and shoved a red rose in my face. “I’m such an idiot.”
Only he didn’t say “idiot.” And what he did say was entirely accurate.
Matt passed behind us and mumbled something. I think it included my name.
“Go away,” I told Greg. I started heading toward the doors.
Greg tried again with the rose. “Come on, Cat, please.”
Where did he get the rose? Did he skip class to run out and get it? Or does he just keep a supply in his locker for times like these?
“Go away,” I said again. Suddenly I wasn’t sleepy at all.
Greg follo
