Even When You Lie to Me by Jessica Alcott Page B

let rest on the table. He always sat like this in class, his shirt dissolving into wrinkles where he slumped, his shoulders low, as if he were chatting with a group of friends at a party. I liked that he was so comfortable with us, because I so often felt uneasy inside my skin, like I was wearing an ill-fitting coat and the seams were all irregular.
    I had to angle myself to see Dev; Drummond was practically blocking him. “Dev thinks golf is a sport, because he was dropped on his head as a child,” I said.
    “My dad plays,” Dev said.
    “See, dad sport,” I said. “Does that not prove my point entirely?”
    Dev looked so hurt that I laughed. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I do like a sport you can play in khakis.”
    “All right,” Drummond said, “I’ll settle this if I have to.”
    I looked up at him. His eyes were glittering.
    “You have a lot of experience arbitrating this kind of thing?” I asked.
    “It was basically my major in college,” he said. His dimples puckered as he smiled at me.
    “Yeah, but you think curling is a sport. You can’t be trusted.”
    He bumped me on the arm with his elbow. This was new. He’d never touched me before. He was casually affectionate with a lot of people in our class—he’d chuck them on the shoulder or shove them playfully—but never me. Giddiness filled my head like helium.
    “Dev,” Asha called. “I need you over here for a second.”
    “Sorry, guys,” Dev said. “We’ll finish this later.”
    “Yep,” Drummond said. “Just remember your grade depends on whether you answer correctly.” He had moved closer to me now; I could feel the heat from his torso, he was so close. I looked down at his hands—big hands. Nice fingers as well.
    Once Dev was on the other side of the room, Drummond looked down at me and said, “You guys going to do anything about that flirting?”
    I pulled away from him. “Dev?” I said. “No, afraid not.” I was relieved he’d said it out of Dev’s earshot, but embarrassed that he’d considered the idea at all. I hated it when adults assumed that just because you were younger than they were, you wouldn’t mind pairing off with anyone of a similar age. I’d thought he understood us better than that.
    “Sorry,” he said. He bounced his arm slightly; he was still so close that his elbow touched my shoulder. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I just thought you guys…” He shrugged. “It seems like Dev likes you.”
    I tried not to blush. Had he really thought of me that way? I looked around. No one was paying attention to us, at least. I was torn between wanting someone to overhear and being mortified by the thought that they might. He wasn’t supposed to say things like that, was he? Did he like me enough to say them anyway?
    “I think he and Frank are a better fit,” I said finally.
    “True,” he said. “And they both look better in formal wear.”
    “Unlike you,” I said.
    He shoved me with his elbow again, and this time I shoved him back. It was the most I’d ever touched him.
    After a minute he said, “So you don’t like any of the guys here? Or girls?”
    I looked at him. Did he really think I had a shot with anyone? “Nope,” I said.
    “Well, Sean might be available if Katie could possibly relinquish him,” he said. He knocked me on the head and then he finally sat up. “Think about it.”
    —
    I thought about him instead, the entire drive home. We’d touched for less than five minutes, but I managed to replay it for twenty. I felt as if all the charge from his skin was in my body and I had to release it somehow or I’d burn up.
    When I got home, I found a note on the kitchen table: my dad had taken the train into the city to meet a client and my mother was working late. I looked at Frida.
    “We’re alone, huh?” I said.
    She unfolded her ears into triangles, but her head stayed on her paws.
    “You need to stay downstairs. Your owner has something sinful to do.” I shivered as I climbed