“Hey, Mirabe, the director asked me to let you know that they’ve retrieved your eptance letter from the security guard. Poor guy had a stomach upset and left his phone behind, so that’s why the morning was such a mess. Don’t sweat it okay?”
Ate ryed Anthony’s message straight to the point.
Mirabe pondered for a moment before responding softly, “Got It, Ms. Ate.”
Noticing how well–behaved Mirabe was, Ate couldn’t help but give her <b>some </b>advice, “I know you’re new around here, and Parkside High School’s teaching methods might <b>be </b>different from what <b>you’re </b>used to back in your hometown. Senior year is crucial so if there’s anything you <b>don’t </b>understand<b>, </b>you must ask your teachers. Alright?”
Mirabe, facing Ate’s <b>“</b><b>1</b>–know–you’re–struggling–but–l–want–to–help‘ <b>expression</b>, just <b>curled </b>her lips into a confident smile and gave <b>a </b>yful wink. “Ms. Ate, you could stand to have <b>a </b>little more faith in me.”
Ate was momentarily <b>bemused </b>by Mirabe’s smile, and by the time she snapped back to reality, Mirabe had already walked away.
This student… maybe she isn’t as hopeless as Morgan made her out to be<b>. </b>
As soon as Mirabe stepped out of the school gates, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out to see an unknown number calling. At that moment, a series of car horns sounded nearby. She looked up to see a familiar ck sedan. Raising an eyebrow. Mirabe chose not to answer the call. Instead, she walked slowly toward the car.
The car <b>window </b>rolled down to reveal the face she had seen that morning. “Need a lift?”
“Are you offering to buy me dinner?” Mirabe teased, not moving an inch or asking if he had been waiting for her.
James satinside the car, a soft smile ying across <b>his </b>lips, softening his usually stem features. “I don’t see why not.” After a moment’s thought, Mirabe opened the rear door and said, “Sure, but I have to head home after. Don’t want to worry the folks.” Once settled in the car, she quickly texted Delh.
“ying the good girl now?” James started the engine and nced at Mirabe with disbelief, as if the rebellious girl–next–door he remembered was just an illusion.
Turning to face him, Mirabe’s response was coy, “When have I ever been anything but?”
James chuckled and shook his head, deciding against mentioning her past midnight escapades. Bringing that up might just earn him an usation of snooping.
Before long, they pulled up in front of a quaint bistro in the city. <b>The </b>ce had a certain charm to it. They entered the private dining <b>room</b>. Mirabells tossed her backpack onto a chair and, without ceremony, grabbed the menu. She quickly picked out a few of her favorites before remembering her host was also waiting to order.
James added a couple of dishes and then dismissed the waiter, leaving them alone in the room.
Mirabe fiddled with her phone, casually asking. “How’d you get my number, anyway?”
She was sure she hadn’t given it to him.
Pouring himself a cup of coffee with deliberate slowness, James watched the steam rise and vanish into the air before answering, “Your grandma asked <b>me </b>to look out for you.”
At this, Mirabe looked up, her expression a mix of surprise and curiosity, clearly not expecting such a revtion from him.