Most Likely (Most Likely #1) - Sarah Watson Page 0,18
from the gallery. Ava typed out a response.
Who is this?
She watched the blue dots form as her mystery fan revealed himself.
Oh. Sorry. Should have started with that. I got your number from the class directory. It’s Logan.
Ava never responded.
Which made it completely awkward on Monday when she saw him in class. She got there early, and Logan was already at his easel, staring in bewilderment at his hot mess of a self-portrait. It turned out that his talent with a camera did not translate onto the canvas.
Mrs. Simon lit up when Ava entered. “Ava! Get your professional artist butt over here.”
“I guess you saw the gallery announcement?” Ava was very aware of Logan on the other side of the room. “Pretty cool, right?”
“It’s amazing. And further proof that you have got to apply to art school. It doesn’t have to be RISD. The Art Institute would be lucky to get you if you want to stay in Ohio.”
Ava shot a look in Logan’s direction. “I’ll keep thinking about it,” Ava promised quietly.
The bell rang and Ava went to her easel.
“Hey,” Logan said.
“Hey,” she said, eyes forward.
“You never texted me back.”
“I, uh, got busy.”
“You seemed to get conveniently busy once you knew it was me texting.”
“Nope. Just busy.”
“All weekend?”
“Yep.”
“You must be pretty excited. About the art show.”
Ava kept her eyes forward. How was he so bad at picking up on social cues?
“I guess,” she said curtly.
“Why are you being weird?”
“I’m not being weird.”
Ava was totally being weird. She couldn’t help it. When it came to Logan Diffenderfer, she didn’t know any other way to be.
“God, Ava.”
“What?”
“I’m seriously so confused. I thought sending a congratulatory text was generally a nice thing. I don’t understand why you’re being such a—”
She turned to look at him, daring him to finish that sentence. He did not. “Never mind. So… you’re applying to art school?”
Shit. Ava crammed her toes into her shoes harder than she ever had in her life.
“Undecided. It’s… complicated.”
“Why’s it complicated?”
Ava shot her hand in the air. She would ask to switch easels. She would say she preferred a spot in the back row. “Mrs. Simon?”
Mrs. Simon saw her hand but motioned for her to put it down. “One second, Ava. I want to get everyone started on something new.” She paced the rows as she addressed the class. “I’ve been really happy with the progress on your self-portraits even though some of you still need to keep working.” She paused behind Logan, then continued walking again. “But overall, I’m seeing excellent work. Now it’s time to switch gears. What you’re going to discover is that it’s one thing to paint a face that you already know intimately. It’s quite another to have to figure out the features of somebody who isn’t as familiar to you. I think you’ll find it an interesting challenge. So put away your mirrors and turn to the person next to you.”
This could not be happening. This seriously could not be happening. Ava turned to her right and found Logan Diffenderfer staring at her. “Well,” he said, “this should be real fun.”
“What the hell is Ava’s problem?”
Jordan closed her locker door to find Logan Diffenderfer on the other side of it.
“Seriously, why is she always such a—” Jordan’s eyes widened and then narrowed in a way that made Logan’s mouth snap shut.
“Such a what, Logan?”
“I’m always nice to her and she always treats me like… like I killed her puppy.”
“She doesn’t have a puppy.”
“You know what I mean.” Jordan pulled her backpack over her shoulder and started walking. He followed. “Come on. Why is she like that?”
Jordan wished she could just tell him what Ava had overheard. He wouldn’t take delight in knowing that he’d hurt her. He’d feel awful. This is the part she wished Ava could understand. He was a guy who said a bad thing. He wasn’t a bad guy. But as much as she wanted to tell him, Jordan couldn’t violate Ava’s trust. “I have no idea why she doesn’t like you,” Jordan said.
Logan sighed. “You’re lying.”
Jordan’s phone buzzed with an incoming call. She glanced at the number. “Oh my god!”
“What. Who is—”
“Quiet!” She cleared her throat. Then cleared it again. Then she took a deep breath and answered. “This is Jordan James,” she said as calmly and professionally as possible.
“Jordan James?” Logan repeated. “Who are you talking—”
Jordan put her hand over Logan’s mouth. He looked surprised. Far too surprised to try to move it.