Imperfect

Chapter 7

I know it's been forever and for those of you wondering, I'm not dead.

:)

Chapter 7

Nell’s POV

“Don’t be mad at me,” Craig said, sinking into his chair and twisting so that he was facing me.

I quirked a brow, my eyes darting to the stack of books he’d carelessly plopped onto the desk. My fingers itched to straighten them, to make sure all the spines were facing the same direction and all the edges were lined up. “Why would I be mad at you?” I asked, distracted.

“I told my dad you were looking for a job.”

My gaze shot to his, my eyes going wide as his words sank in. “Why?”

“He’s partner at his law firm. I figured he might be able to find something for you.” Craig scanned my face, looking for clues to determine what I was thinking. “It would look good on your college application?” he said, uncertain.

I frowned. “He doesn’t even know me. I’ve never even met him.” I shook my head. “Why would he want to hire me?”

“It’s not guaranteed, Nell. You’d still have to give him your resume and go for an interview. I just mentioned that you were looking for work and he said to send you to him. He wants to meet you.”

I blinked, narrowing my eyes at him. “He does? How does he even know who I am?”

He shrugged, looking down at the scarred desk in front of him, his long, athletic fingers reaching out to flip through his chemistry textbook aimlessly. “Your name’s come up in conversation a few times.”

“You talk about me with your parents?” I mumbled, shocked.

His gaze locked on mine, something like determination filtering into his features. “We’re friends,” he said, his lips tilting into a warm smile as he gave his shoulders a slight shrug. Clearing his throat, he continued. “Is it so weird that I mention you from time to time?” His lips tilted a little further. “Are you saying you never talk about me with your folks?”

My spine straightened and something cold slithered through my veins. “They’re not much for idle chit-chat.” Understatement. They could barely stand it when I talked about myself, never mind bringing another person into the conversation.

In fact, I think they might even prefer it when I didn’t talk at all.

Facing forward, I took my pens from their case and lined them up at the top of my desk, barely stopping myself from getting out a ruler to make sure they were all the same distance apart.

“Nell,” Craig said, his voice quiet, gentle as he reached out and placed his hand on top of mine, staying my movements. When I looked over at him, that determination was back in his eyes and when he swallowed hard, I frowned. Was he nervous about something? “The truth is―”

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Grayson said, pulling a stool up to the shared desk where Craig and I were sitting. He sank onto the stool, eyeing Craig’s hand still resting on top of mine.

I pulled my hand away, breaking the contact.

“What do you want, West?” Craig snapped, his tone bordering on hostile.

“I had a question about the homework. I was hoping Cupcake could enlighten me.”

“What is it?” I asked, not even bothering to remind him not to call me that.