How to Fail at Flirting by Denise Williams
The student in the fourth row glanced left then right as his friends stared in other directions and the bravado drained from his face. My question still hanging in the air, he muttered, “I don’t know.” I itched to call him out for not doing the reading, then texting during class. Disengaged students didn’t usually bother me this much, but it had been a long semester and I was tired of this room. Someone crinkled a bag of chips a few rows back, and the clock on the wall ticked away. The ticking brought back a flash of memory, but I pushed it aside.