I pushed the button and turned towards her; the famous Cameron Morgan. "Hey," I said, acknowledging her with a head nod. I watched sadness, longing and then a small smile appear on her face and I'm not gonna lie, that pissed me off a little. I thought she'd surely be over the guy now, but evidently not. Deep down though, I knew what really irked me was the way my stomach reacted to her smile.
"Hi," she replied, bashing the button with her index finger, as if it would make the elevator appear faster. It was either a coincidence, or she was talented in ways I didn't know about, but the elevator appeared right on cue. I let her step inside, and followed, much to her disdain. I rested against the railing and watched her size me up, no doubt comparing me to the stupid (literally, I mean who crashes a forklift through a building just to talk to his ex-girlfriend. I mean, really?) civilian she still wasn't over. To help me ignored the pang that came with that thought, I initiated conversation.
"So," I said pointing to the crest on her coat. "The Guggenheim Academy…"
"Gallagher Academy," she corrected.
"I've never heard of it," I lied.
"Well it's my school," she retorted. The higher the elevator climbed, the more she fidgeted.
"You in a hurry or something," I asked, barely managing to suppress my laughter.
"Actually, I'm supposed to meet my teacher at the ruby slipper exhibit. I've only got twenty minutes, and if I'm late, he'll kill me."
I refrained from explaining exactly how qualified he was to do that and instead asked, "How do you know?"
"Because he said, 'Meet me at the ruby slipper exhibit.'"
"No," I said smiling and shaking my head. "How do you know you only have twenty minutes? You're not wearing a watch."
"My friend just told me," she lied convincingly. I'd believe her if I didn't know better.
"You fidget a lot."
"I'm sorry," she said. "I have low blood sugar. I need to eat something."
I fished my bag of M&Ms out of my pocket, unsure if she was lying. "Here," I offered her what was left of the bag. "I ate most of them already."
"Oh…um…" she stammered, clearly knocked for a loop. "That's okay. Thanks, though."
"Oh," I said. So she was lying. "Okay." The elevator doors slid open, revealing the Mall that was painted with dusk.
"Thanks again for the candy," she said, darting outside. With a stealthy smile, I followed her a few paces. Upon hearing my footsteps, she whirled around. "Where are you going?" she demanded to know.
"I thought we were going to meet your teacher in the wonderful world of Oz."
"We!" Cammie exclaimed, on the verge of slightly hysterical laughter.
"Sure," I shrugged nonchalantly, "I'm going with you."
"No you're not," she snapped, her aura of shyness fading with the sun.
"Look," I started confidently. "It's dark. You're by yourself. And this is D.C." I watched her weigh up her options in her head. "And you've only got" – I pretended to ponder it—"fifteen minutes to meet your teacher." I knew I was off by 90 seconds and so did she.
"Fine," she relented and quickened her pace.
"You can walk really fast," I said. She ignored me and I couldn't help but observe how cute she was when she was giving me the silent treatment. While her friend, who I had no doubt Grant was successfully tailing, was model gorgeous, Cammie was a plain type of pretty, and her attitude and demeanour contributed to her girl next door image. And the fact that she was a spy just made her that much more attractive.
"So, do you have a name?" I asked, feigning innocence.
"Sure. Lots of them." This was the only thing she'd said that I didn't doubt was true. I threw a flirty smile her way. She bristled, turned, and continued towards her destination.
"Do you have a boyfriend," I asked, perhaps the only question actually wanted to hear her answer.
"Look, thanks for the chivalry and all, but it really isn't necessary," Cammie muttered, ignoring my flirting. "It's just up here," she said pointing to the Museum of American History, which stood gleaming twenty yards away. "And there's a cop over there."
"What?" I said, slightly offended, "you think that guy can do a better job protecting you than I can?"
"No, I think if you don't leave me alone, I can scream and that cop will arrest you." She smirked shyly at me, under lashes that were a little too long for the good of my sanity. I backed away and smile. Cammie smiled too, and for a moment, I felt like my mission was already accomplished.
"Hey," she spoke to my retreating back. I turned as she said, "Thanks anyway." I nodded and continued to walk away, marvelling that she hadn't figured out why I was here. I let myself think that maybe I distracted her as much as she distracted me. I raced along the quickest route to the ruby slipper display, refusing to think about the annoying habit she had of stirring up feelings in me.
I reached the right floor and stood near the entrance, not wanting to make my presence known yet. I heard footsteps, and watched her approach the display from around the corner, mesmerised by the simple contents of the shiny glass case.
I saw Joe appear and say, "You're four seconds late."
She spun around, and proudly said, "But I'm alone."
"No, Ms. Morgan. You're not," Joe said. That was my cue. I stepped out of the shadows and smiled.
"Hi again, Gallagher Girl."
I took extreme pleasure in the shocked look on her face.
"Nice work, Zach," Mr Solomon said. I met Cammie's eyes and winked at her. Her face contorted with disappointment and disgust, only to be dismissed by a sudden smirk and gleam in her eye.
"Hi, Blackthorne Boy."
I saw Joe blink, I felt my own mouth fall open, and I saw her smirk break into a grin. She wasn't exactly meant to know where I was from.
"Very good, Ms. Morgan," Joe said, recovering. She met my eyes once again, and her face went a similar colour to the shoes behind her. "But not good enough."
I watched as she recalled all the instances she saw me today, and put the pieces together. "Your mission was…what?" Cammie started in an even voice, "to keep us from achieving our mission?"
I cocked my head and raised my eyebrows. "Something like that." I smirked and exhaled a half laugh. "I thought I could make you late for your meeting. I didn't think you'd actually tell me where it was and walk me halfway there." She looked like she was going to be sick, and this gave me equal parts glee and guilt. A crowd of tourists passed the exhibit, and I saw her get swallowed up by the crowd. I took the opportunity to leave. Tomorrow I would be officially introduced to the famous Cammie Morgan, and I, for one, couldn't wait. The girl was brilliant, that much was clear, and she intrigued me. I wanted to know everything about her, who her friends were, her role-models, where she went when she was upset, her favourite food and so much more. So much more.