“Adelard said you read one of my essays.” His fingers tighten around mine. “Not one.” My steps slow. “How many?” He shrugs a shoulder, eyes a dark gray in the low light. “I’m not sure. At least a dozen. Maybe two dozen. Whomever I’ve run into that has used your services.” “Two dozen,” I repeat. “Why?” “Because I like your words,” he says simply. Like it’s obvious. Like he’s not completely blowing my mind. Like it’s normal to read two dozen college essays just because you like someone’s words. “You’re serious?” “It was a way that I could get closer to you.”
