The Flynn Effect

17 | sleepwalking

Jo

DANIEL CORRIGAN IS a natural-born charmer. He doesn't hesitate to smile at an unamusing joke and doesn't restrain himself from bedazzling you with his wits and welcoming brown eyes.

He's also pretty forgetful or in his words 'not good with names' and tends to talk about himself a lot. He also doesn't stop calling me Juliet and I don't bother correcting him anymore. Right now, he's telling me about how he got the position of newspaper president and how he managed to charm his way to it as usual. It's an interesting story but I'm a bit time conscious especially since he offered to drive me to the library for my session with Flynn. He'd exchanged numbers with me after school yesterday and offered to give me a ride to the library but I'm guessing it was because he really wanted to finish his story.

His car smells like pineapples and dental floss. It's a weird combination but I'm certain I perceived a used dental floss when he opened the door for me to get in. He's also insanely organized. Every inch of his car is arranged, every book stacked at the corner of the backseat and every bag placed in front of each other on the floor of the car, including mine. Apart from the odd smell that seems to breathe in and out whenever a soft breeze blows in from the wound down window, I'm pretty sure I can see an almost blinding glow of the dashboard and the glass.

"So, are you and Flynn a thing?"

My head jerks to the side immediately I hear his question and I shake my head slowly. Flynn and I have only pretended to be a thing once and that was when Craig was following me around and I don't think Craig would spread an information about Flynn dating a girl he's currently after. Plus, Flynn wasn't at school today and I'm still surprised the collar of my shirt hadn't burnt from Semia's heated glare in History today. Still, I don't think she'd tell anyone especially since she wanted him to herself.

"No," I tell him and lean back on the seat. "We're not even friends. I only tutor him and we're members of the same club."

He nods understandingly and I squint my eyes at his hair when he's not looking. His blonde hair seems to have little bits of highlights in them. "Oh that's good. I just wanted to know what I was getting myself into."

I hesitate to give him a response because the gears are turning in my head. Is that supposed to mean he's interested in me? I mean, anyone could give a girl a ride somewhere. I don't know what's going on but I try not to overthink it even if the tips of my ears are already hot. Maybe things are finally falling into place.

He turns to me again. "Debate club, right? That's cool. I didn't even know we had a debate club."

"Yeah," I laugh awkwardly. I guess Flynn's publicity stunt didn't do jack shit. "We're just a small group."

"Figures," he swerves and the library comes into view. "Anyway," he smiles. "You should show me some of your writing next time we meet. Maybe over coffee or something."

I straighten in my seat and turn to him. "Really?"

"Sure, why not?" He shrugs and presses his foot on the brakes. "I love seeing new stuff. New ideas, new styles of writing. A nice coffee together would be good too," he pauses and then places his hands on the steering wheel. "Except you're busy."

Internally, I'm nervous as hell because the only person who's really seen my writing is grandma and Flynn snooping around my stuff. It's like someone has offered me an opportunity on a platter of gold. I've always wanted a work of mine to appear in the school paper and the school paper president, a cute one at that, is offering to see mine over coffee. It's as thrilling as it is nerve wracking.