“Does P-Jamie... like me?"
Malcolm blinked. This was clearly not the kind of dirt he'd been expecting.
"I mean,like me
, like me." I clarified quickly.
"What are you? Twelve?" he asked, incredulous.
"You aren't supposed to make fun of me!" I scolded.
"You never said you were going to act like a teenybopper. That's a special circumstance. Any judge would agree."
"Fine." I started to rise. "Like I said, forget I asked."
"Wait, Amy. Sit down," he said with a sigh. Malcolm was leaning his fits against the wood, staring down at his knuckles.
I sat. "What?"
He didn't look up. "This is all just between us, right?"
"I wouldn't say he likes you."
"Oh." Oh. Of course not. How stupid of me. How ridiculous, really-
"He's pretty much in love with you.”
Rites of Spring (Break)