I shake my head. “No, that’s not what I meant. I just—”
“I know what you meant—what you think of me, and everyone else thinks of me.” She snatches her bag from the desk, sniffs her shirt, and shrugs. “But some advice: Maybe you shouldn’t judge people by their looks.”
“I don’t,” I assure her, feeling a pang of guilt. “I’m sorry if you think I judged you.”
She grabs her phone from the desk, tosses it into her bag, then heads for the door. “Listen, if some guy named Jesse comes by, can you pretend that you haven’t seen me all day?”
“Why?” I ask, sitting up.
“Because I don’t want him to know I’ve been here.” She opens the door and glances back over her shoulder. “God, you’ve been a little snippy lately. When I first met you, I thought you were like a doormat. But lately, you’ve been kind
