Spellbound. Cara Shultz Lynn
Frank started it,” she suggested hopefully, biting her lip.
“Not from where I was standing,” I said softly. “Regardless, it seemed like Anthony’s a little quick with his hands. I think he might be trying to play you, Ash. I’m sorry.”
“Well, I don’t agree.” Ashley raised her chin defiantly. “Are you sure you’re not just overreacting, because of…well, you know. What you went through?”
I considered the Henry effect for a second. Sure, Anthony was arrogant and ready to punch a guy out at a moment’s notice, but did I really want to put him in the same category as a raging drunk who had no problem backhanding me when I mouthed off?
“I can see where you think I’m overreacting,” I conceded warily. “But just understand that I also have some experience in this area. I think you should be extremely careful around him,” I warned.
“Okay, whatever,” she said, sticking out her bottom lip in a pout. I felt awful. To her, he was so hot, one of the best athletes at the school and definitely one of the “cool” guys at Vince A, whatever that meant. And he had singled her out, a freshman, for attention. And I had to come and rip her little wonderland to shreds.
“Well, tell me about your night.” Ashley sighed, resigned. She flopped into my desk chair and longingly stroked my sticker-covered laptop—a present from Aunt Christine. She probably wanted to open it and log on to Facebook, I realized.
“Did you get to make a love connection with Cisco?” she asked petulantly.
“We’re just friends, Ashley,” I began. “But, that hoodie you’re leaning against—” I paused dramatically “—it’s Brendan Salinger’s.”
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