The Secret's Out

Chapter Four: Not a Date

“Wait. Repeat that.” Miranda looked over at me as I gathered my books.

“I said: I can’t come with you and the twins Saturday because I’m meeting my defense attorney around noon for lunch.” I ignore her surprise with ease, shoving the massive textbooks in my bag and pulling it up on my shoulder.

The lunch bell had rang a good five minutes ago, but Miranda has lunch detention today and I needed to get to my college classes to get my work, so neither of us were particularly in a hurry.

“Wait. So you’re going to go get lunch with your defense attorney?” She raised a daring brow, like she believed I was making up an excuse.

I nodded slowly, heading towards the door. “He wants to talk strategy and possible questions that could come up during the trial.”

She stopped and put her hands on her hips, giving me a ‘really’ look.

“What?”

“Do you honestly think he called you out, on a Saturday mind you, because he wanted to talk about some old asshole that’s as good as guilty?” she asked.

I blinked. “Huh?”

She rolled her eyes and wrapped her arm around my neck, pulling me against her chest. “Seriously, babe? Think about this for a minute. Why can’t he simply discuss matters about the trial on your appointments? Like the one you had yesterday. You know, those things you have specifically made for conversations like that, in a specific place?”

“He said that a change of scenery would be good for me,” I said defensively, getting out of her grip in order to fix my shirt, which had managed to ride up a little. “Said that since I’m always considerate of him, he wants to pay me back by getting me lunch.”

She snorted. “And you actually believed him? That just sounds like an excuse the shy tutor says in order to get the pretty popular girl to go out with him.”

“What do a tutor and popular girl have to do with anything?” I asked, making my way to my locker. “I’m not some hard-to-approach snob, M, I’m just a normal girl with not-so-normal problems.”

“Gah, you always sell yourself short when it comes to shit like this.” She ruffled her hair in frustration. “You are absolutely, one hundred percent, gorgeous. Your hair is long and pretty, your eyes are the best color brown in this entire state – you don’t really have a chest, which a lot of guys like, but hell, you have a pretty good ass – and you’re the best goddamn person when it comes to taking care of others.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Are you in love with me, Miranda?”

She laughed, linking arms with me. “You would only be so lucky, D.”

I smiled, but sighed. “What’s your point?” I wasn’t going to like this answer.

“He. Likes. You. And I don’t mean in a oh-you’re-a-lovely-client-please-allow-me-to-help-you way. I mean in a I-think-you’re-smoking-hot-and-want-you-to-use-your-mouth-in-more-ways-than-testifying-against-your-dad way.”

I shook my head. “Jesus Christ, why did I ever introduce you to Val?”

“You’re avoiding the subject.”

I rolled my eyes, unlinking our arms to open my locker. “First of all, why in God’s name would he want to “use my mouth” in any way? It’s not that amazing.”

“Not according to Mason~” she sang.

My head snapped to her, face red. “Shut up! The two aren’t linked together in any way!”