After asking Asher if he believed I could pass the transfer exam, I waited for his answer. One moment passed. Then another.
He still wasn’t looking at me and his frown was only growing deeper.
My own self-doubt began to swirl around, unwelcome in my thoughts. Meanwhile, my heart ached as if it had started cracking straight down the middle.
“Asher,” I prompted, because if he didn’t say something soon, I might totally fall apart.
“I’m worried about you, Cynthia,” he said. “You can’t fault me for wanting to make sure you’ll be okay, no matter what happens next month.”
“Sure.” I inched closer to him. I tilted until I was in his line of vision again, and he had to either look at me or turn away from me.
He looked at me.
I continued, “But you do think me passing the exam is at least a
