Rhymes With Cupid by Anna Humphrey Page A

difference in helping to preserve the population of giant pandas. And, like I’m sure Elyse told you, the whole theme is going to be black and white, so it’ll be really fun.” Patrick shot me a strange look but, to his credit, didn’t mention that this was the first he’d heard about a panda party. “Elyse is going to be baking some snacks. And, trust me, you don’t want to miss her cheesecake. So, if you’re free . . .” She trailed off.
    “Yeah,” he said, giving me the weird look again. “I think I might be.”
    “Cool.” Her eyes lit up. “Hang on. Just let me ring this up and then I’ll tell you all about Oreo—the panda we’re adopting. I can even show you a picture. Talk about cute!” Patrick politely stepped aside as the paper guy piled six packages of EverTree brand copier stock on the cash.
    “What are you doing here so early?” I asked while Dina rang up the purchase and bagged the paper. My irritation about the driving lesson was still pretty fresh. “I’m not done until four. And you can’t just hang out here. Sometimes Mr. Goodman stops in on weekends.”
    “Who said I was hanging out? I’m shopping.” He picked up a Beanie Baby rabbit and shook its head, flopping its ears around.
    “Oh yeah? For a bunny?”
    “Nah,” he said, setting the Beanie Baby down. “No bunnies today. I need a pen.”
    “You just got one yesterday.”
    “Yeah. About that?” He ran his fingers through his curls. “It’s a little too sploodgy.”
    “Sploodgy?” I raised my eyebrows.
    “Yeah. Like, when you press down on the tip, the ink sploodges out. Do you have anything that writes really crisply?”
    “Right,” I said, trying to keep the mocking tone out of my voice. “Something crisp, not sploodgy. Follow me.”
    Patrick took ages in the pen aisle, doodling with different pens on the scraps of notepaper Mr. Goodman left out for that reason. “This one is pretty good,” he said finally, holding up a WriteSmart ballpoint. “But do you have it in black?” I searched through the bin and thrust a black pen toward him.
    “Here.”
    “Whoa,” he said, jumping back a bit. “Getting hostile with the writing instruments there. You’re not still mad about that parallel parking thing, are you?” he asked, taking the pen from me carefully, like I might have laced it with explosives.
    “Mad? Why would I be mad?” I shot back.
    “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe because I was kind of a jerk about it.” That took me off guard. He tucked his new pen behind his ear. “I’ve been thinking about it, and look, I knew you weren’t going to hit those cars. But that doesn’t mean you felt ready, I guess. Like you said, we probably should have practiced in a parking lot or something first. I’m sorry. Okay? I won’t do anything like that again.”
    “Okay,” I said, my anger melting away so suddenly that I didn’t know what to say or do next. Why had I been so pissed off in the first place? I already almost couldn’t remember. “Um. Anyway,” I stuttered. “I’ve got stuff to finish shelving, but Dina can ring that up for you at the cash.”
    “Okay. But, wait.” He stopped me. “Can you help me with one more thing first?”
    “Yeah?”
    “I need to buy a valentine.” Now it was his turn to look embarrassed.
    “For your girlfriend?” Maybe I could get the dirt Dina was looking for.
    “Not exactly.” His cheeks went kind of red, making his freckles stand out. “Not yet, anyway. Just this girl I met.” I glanced ever-so-quickly in Dina’s direction to see if he’d follow my gaze, but he was busy staring at the floor.
    “Well,” I started, “we have a big selection.” I led him over to the valentine section, which was marked by an absolutely giant, obscenely sparkly heart-shaped sign hanging from the ceiling. LOVE IS IN THE AIR. “This is where the romance happens.” I pointed to the sign, rolling my eyes. “In my personal opinion, almost everything in this section