Chapter 2
How I make the potato in front of me vanish, I’m not sure. What was buttery and warm moments before tastes like sawdust. From the corner of my eye, I steal glances at William, peering at him through my lashes, working to be as unobtrusive as possible.
I keep this up until I catch William peering back at me, that hint of pink painting his cheeks once again. My stomach drops, and a wash of dismay makes me blush as well.
Oh, no. He thinks I’m flirting. And I am so not flirting with Orson Yates.
“I wish I didn’t have this meeting,” he says. “We could... I mean...” He bites back his next words and then drowns them with the last of his root beer float. “Let me show you around, okay?”
I nod.
“You can take your drink.”
I nod again. At this point, I’m as articulate as a bobblehead
