“Never seen it,” I said. “Really?” he asked.
“Pixie-haired gorgeous girl dislikes authority and can’t help but fall for a boy she knows is trouble. It’s your autobiography, so far as I can tell.”
His every syllable flirted. Honestly, he kind of turned me on.
I didn’t even know that guys could turn me on—not, like, in real life.
A younger girl walked past us. “How’s it going, Alisa?” he asked.
She smiled and mumbled, “Hi, Augustus.” “Memorial people,” he explained.
Memorial was the big research hospital. “Where do you go?” “Children’s,” I said, my voice smaller than I expected it to be.
He nodded. The conversation seemed over. “Well,” I said, nodding vaguely toward the steps that led us out of the Literal Heart of Jesus.
I tilted my cart onto its wheels and started walking. He limped beside me.
So, see you next time, maybe?” I asked. “You should see it,” he said.
V for Vendetta, I mean.” “Okay,” I said. “I’ll look it up.”
No. With me. At my house,” he said. “Now.” I stopped walking.
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