Chapter 6
June
The weeks trudged on, and hardly anything changed. I made no new friends, attended no new parties, and worst of all, Oliver remained dead set on making my life a living hell.
Whenever I answered a question, he was there to argue.
Whenever we received a test back, he would peek over at my grade.
That’s probably why he refused to sit in a different seat farther away from me. I sure as fuck wasn’t going to be the one to surrender and move. So, we sat next to each other every fucking class, shoving each other’s raised hands out of the way and hiding each other’s backpacks when the other wasn’t looking.
Mary often left me alone in our dorm room, though she was nice enough to hand out pity invites each time it wasn’t for a hook-up with some toy. Actually, she sometimes handed out invites even then, but those types of offers weren’t exactly on my bingo card.
I continued to read about Sherry, and the lady with the corset, and some guy named Bailey, and a person named Tyler. I chewed through books, finally understanding why some people even took the time to look at those things. I never had to sit alone in my dorm room again. I could simply let the pages fall open and fly off to some fantasy land.
And by the time I lifted my head, it was an early October Thursday at 9:15 a.m. I entered the lecture hall for history and landed in the exact same seat as I had all semester. Not seconds after my ass hit the chair did Oliver thump down to my right, a rude comment already locked and loaded.
“Back to spew more informational clutter instead of focusing on what we do know?” he asked as he organized his things on the desk.
He was always saying shit like that, and I was more than used to it by now. He considered my alternative views of mainstream topics to be frivolous. I considered his stupid closed-mindedness to be stupid and closed-minded.
“Not today. I’ve finally decided you’re right,” I said, sinking into my seat with my arms crossed tightly. “We should never critique nor question history. I mean, surely, we’ve already captured it all, right?”
“Not at all. As Denis Diderot wrote, ‘All things must be examined, debated, investigated without exception and without regard for anyone’s feelings.’ Still, I’ll note that your manner of investigation makes me feel like you have a habit of overcomplicating things.”
I pinned him with a sharp look. He wore a blue flannel today, and I hated how much I loved the color of it. What I hated even more was how perfectly it matched his gray T-shirt and the black trousers he never seemed to take off. I looked down at my own ripped jeans and black sweater, wondering if Oliver had beaten me in the style department today. I’d kill him if he did.
I snapped back to the present. “Good one, and excellent observation. My entire personality can be surmised by how I present myself in history class. I’m glad you’ve learned so much during these last few weeks.”
“Well, I’m very acute.” The complacent smirk on his face as he said that made my blood boil, and the stupid piece of metal he sometimes wore in his tongue glinted every time he spoke. I was furious with myself for being a little curious about what it could do. Not him, of course. The metal. Only the metal.
“Ha!” I laughed aloud, the thumping in my chest pumping prickly heat to my ears. “You are anything but acute.”
He stared down at me fiercely. “Was that a reference to my size, Miss Juni?”
“It was, sir. How does that investigation make you feel?”
His mouth quirked up, unveiling the tips of his teeth. “Well, I have to agree with you. While my mind is acute, I can assure you that, physically, everything is really quite…obtuse.”
I ignored the way his eyes flicked over my body as he said that. “Dull and slow-witted?”
“Large in comparison to other angles.” His canines peeked out even further from between his lips just as an odd flutter spilled into my gut, disappearing in an instant. I rolled my eyes, prying my attention away from his stupid mouth. His teeth should’ve been more crooked, in my opinion. It was totally unfair how straight and white they were, considering all he ever did was spew bullshit.
“Thank you, Oliver, for that imagery.”
“Now you’re imagining things?” he teased. “Really, Juni, I have to say… First you comment on my size, and now you imply you’re visualizing my body.”
“Careful, Oliver. Please don’t forget that I have boobs. All it takes is a low-cut shirt and you’ll flunk out of school entirely.” I threw him a wry look before turning my attention to the front of the room, deciding this interaction was over. Mr. Brown fiddled with the giant screen on the wall. Couldn’t he move any faster? It was time to get this class started and time for Oliver to shut up.
“Mild sexism. Interesting tactic. And it’s funny you think I’d care to look down your shirt.” Oliver turned toward the front as well. He most definitely cared to look down my shirt.
“Oh, well, you know how much I like investigating,” I said. “Now I’m determined to figure it out. I think I’ll start my research next class.”
“So you’ll be intentionally trying to make me look at you, whiz kid?”
“And you’ll be unintentionally looking, dipshit.”
He sounded calm, amused, as he asked, “Would you like that, Juni? If I looked at you?”
I clenched my jaw, observing the slide that Mr. Brown finally pulled up behind himself, trying hard not to rip my hair out of my scalp as I squeezed in a final bash. “Not nearly as much as watching you flunk out over it.”
Our professor finally began to speak. Thank god.
“All right, class,” Mr. Brown projected from the front of the room, pacing in his brown sweater and tan corduroys. “Midterms!”
A collective sigh sent a literal gust of wind through the lecture hall, but I wasn’t worried. I was at the top of my classes. Midterms would be a cakewalk, and we still had a couple of weeks before they even started.
“You will not have one for this class,” Mr. Brown continued. A few claps and whistles filled the air. “Ha, not so fast. Instead, you have a doubly extensive final project which will constitute 25% of your grade. This is a big one, which is why I’m announcing it early, so those of you who would like to get a head start may do so. The semester is out in about eleven weeks, which means we will start presentations in nine. I really want to see what you can all do here. The topic is open. You may present any historical event or period you choose between the years 1 CE and 2000 CE. More details can be found on the document uploaded to our online board. Your presentations will be twenty minutes in length each, we will present during our last four classes in the order I dictate, there is a lengthy essay to accompany it which must contain a bibliography, and I have chosen your partners.”
A general groan echoed around me, accompanied by a few frantic pen scratches from worried students taking urgent notes.
“I know, I know,” Mr. Brown said. “I’m the worst.” He picked up a sheet of paper from his desk, adjusting his thick glasses on his nose as he read from it. “Joe, you will work with Nathan. Judy, you’re with Gianna. Daphne E., you’ll be with Jackson. Daphne C., you’re with Toni…” Mr. Brown continued down the list, grouping all thirty-six of us until my worst nightmare came true. “June and Oliver, that leaves you two.”
“What? Why?!” I screeched, smacking a hand on the desk. I was practically out of my seat, which I quickly realized, so I forced myself to get a grip and plopped back down.
“Because you’re both top of the class and an enormous pain in all of our asses.” Mr. Brown smiled as he tossed the paper back on his desk, and the rest of the class giggled. Surely Daya had suggested this to him as some sort of prank. I’d complained to her about Oliver enough over the last few weeks that I certainly wouldn’t have put it past her.
“Oh, come on, Mr. B!” I leaned back in my chair with a thump and a groan.
“Do not argue with him,” Oliver whispered, flabbergasted that I spoke back. He was stiff as a board, staring at his hands which were folded neatly on top of his notebook. Oliver was like that. Authority figures made him straighten up real quick.
I clicked my tongue. “He’s not a drill sergeant, he’s a teacher, you weirdo. And a cool one at that.”
Oliver didn’t answer.
“We’re all really looking forward to seeing what you two pull together,” Mr. Brown said, his grin wrinkling his eyes.
◆◆◆
I stomped into the quad, trying to put as much distance between myself and Oliver as possible. I hardly liked working on projects with partners to begin with, and now this? I could’ve fucking screamed. Students swirled around me in different directions, all on their way to their next classes, but it did nothing to mitigate the very noticeable sensation that Oliver was following. He refused to let me get too far, pursuing me with his ridiculously long stride.
“We need to figure out our work schedule.” His voice was just behind me now. I stopped, ignoring the fact that I’d become an obstruction in the middle of a busy pathway.
“Oh, I could just kill Mr. B!” I said, whirling around to come face to chest with him. Now that I was seeing his gray T-shirt from the front, I realized it was one of those silly metal band shirts. He wore one literally every day, so I don’t know why it surprised me. They always had weird shit on them like ugly grim reapers and zombies with their brains half out. Or maybe they were just old pictures of Oliver. His brain was usually oozing out of his ears too.
“He is our professor and he’s made his decision.”
I hardly heard him say that. I was too focused on his shirt. “You really need people to know you like rock and roll, huh?” Considering he plastered it to his fucking chest every day.
“I— Excuse me?” He followed my line of vision to his T-shirt, his face distorting with utter offense. “Did you just say rock and roll?”
I quirked an eyebrow. “Yeah?” What was so bad about that? He wore rock T-shirts.
“Uhm, this is a metalcore band…” He pointed to his chest, his sass level turned up to a thousand. This was hands down the most defensive I’d ever seen him. He was suddenly more focused and more passionate than in any debate we’d had together.
So he was one of those guys when it came to music. Persnickety and particular. This was beautiful. I had a new and very effective way to get under his skin. My grin tried to stretch from ear to ear, but I held it in. “Oh, so like, heavy metal?”
He held up a finger. “No. Like metalcore. I literally just said that.”
I wasn’t an idiot. I knew there were subgenres, but I didn’t care enough to learn about them. I did, however, care about ticking Oliver off.
“Like AC/DC and stuff?” I asked innocently. I was 100% fucking with him.
“No, that’s—”
“Screamo?”
“That’s very different, June—”
“Oh, wait, no! I know this one! Pop punk, right?”
His mouth dropped open. For a second, he just stood there staring openly at me. I tried to hold a straight face, but a laugh shot out my nose, giving me away entirely.
“I’m gonna… June, I am gonna kick your ass if you keep it up.” He placed a hand on my upper arm, leading me off the path and into the grass just a couple of feet to my left. I shook my shoulder away with a giggle and went myself. He followed.
“Please,” I said with a groan, planting my feet in the green and crossing my arms over my chest as I reeled in my smile. “Do you chill, like, ever? Or is this your constant state of being?” If it was, this project process of ours was going to be very long and very irritating.
He tutted, looking tiredly over my head. “When are we going to meet?”
Honestly, he seemed just as upset about the project assignments as I was. Oliver didn’t show huge emotions; he was too formal for that. But I could still tell. I could see it in the utter boredom in his eyes, in the exhaustion dragging his cheeks down. Apparently, my superpower was provoking that sensation in others.
“Never.”
Oliver sighed. “Juni, your guard is up so high, it almost makes you look stupid.”
“Stupid?!” I beat my fits down firmly, all amusement draining from me in an instant. “Ugh! He is the fucking worst,” I mumbled to the breeze. Before he could say another idiotic thing, I turned to walk away, stomping across the grass toward my next class. A large hand wrapped my bicep, tugging me back lightly. I whipped the rest of the way around. “Well, you’re feeling mighty touchy today, Oliver.”
I stared at him, waiting for some sort of apology, but he wasn’t even paying attention. His eyebrows furrowed, his gaze passing my face and moving right along to where his hand held my arm, tangled in my long hair. He watched his fingers as he retracted them, my dark waves trailing through each and every one, right to the ends.
I snapped my fingers, pointing to my eyes. “Up here, asshole.”
“Sorry,” he said quietly, a swallow passing through his throat. “Your hair.”
I looked down at my hair which hung to my waist just as it always did. I had to admit, it looked pretty good today. But what the hell would it matter to Oliver?
“My hair?” I cocked an eyebrow, sinking into my hip.
He closed his eyes and winced slightly. “It’s, uhm… Nothing.” He cleared his throat. “Shiny. Uh, June, when are we gonna meet? How do Tuesday afternoons look for you?”
My chin sailed out, my neck stretching as I stared at him in disbelief. My hair isuhm, nothing, shiny? “I, uhm, nothing, brushed it today,” I mocked. “And Tuesday afternoons are fine.” Considering I usually spend them staring at the wall.
He nodded. “I have…commitments…most days.” He said that like he very obviously did not want me to know what those commitments were. “Tuesdays work best for me if you can be flexible. I can do weekends too.”
I flicked my eyes over his obnoxiously coordinated outfit, judging him from head to toe. “Tuesdays and Saturdays. 4:00 p.m.” I tossed my shiny hair over my shoulder and began to walk away.
“Can’t I have your number?” he called after me.
“Pig!”
“For scheduling purposes. Don’t get a big head now, Juni. We’ve got a long eleven weeks ahead of us before the semester is out.”
I stopped in my tracks, stomping in a little circle to face him for only two more seconds before I could finally get away. “Tuesdays and Saturdays. 4:00 p.m. In the library. We start this weekend so we can get it the fuck over with.”
My blood boiled as I watched him stand there among the random students, bodies filling in the space between us. I could’ve sworn the edges of his mouth started to quirk up.
“Looking forward to it, Juni.”
“It’s. June!” I shoved my middle finger in the air and held it up as I walked away.