Grace speaks without thinking. “If you get here early, I’ll braid your hair.” Phoebe practically guffaws. “Okay, I know you said we’re not talking about it, but that is flirting. That is good flirting. Hendy, you got game. You didn’t even show me this before—well, I guess with the whole kissing-me-not-on-my-mouth thing. That was game, too.” Grace breathes through her nose and keeps her eyes on her locker. Matthews feels like the sun, like if Grace looks too closely, she’ll go blind. That smile is even brighter.
