Chapter 17
tino
Heart’s Coffee was busier than I expected after school the next day, but I managed to snag a back corner table for Lilah and me to “study.” I thought it was implied that when I said we could have a study date here that we would actually be chatting and drinking coffee, but maybe I should have spelled that out better because the table was covered in her school supplies.
Notebooks, highlighters, sticky notes—the works.
She’d been frowning at Wuthering Heights for so long that I was worried she might end up throwing it across the room in frustration.
I, on the other hand, was busy improving her notes.
“Stop it,” she said without even looking up, swatting my hand away before I could add another doodle.
“I’m making them better,” I said, twirling her pen. “Visual learning, Lilah. You’ll remember the symbolism if you associate it with—” I turned the page toward her, “—that.”
It was a stick figure with fangs labeled Heathcliff.
She stared at it and looked like she was debating whether to stab me with the pen. “Tino. Why does my English homework look like a Halloween coloring book?”
“Because literature is full of monsters,” I said, pleased with myself. “And also, you need to lighten up.”
She made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a growl. “Remind me again why we’re studying together?”
“Because you love me,” I said automatically.
Across the cafe, the bell over the door jingled as a group of juniors walked in, sneaking glances our way, of course.
Yet another reason that I thought it was obvious this wasn’t an actual study date—it was like we were sitting in a giant fishbowl, being watched on all sides.
That mixed with the rickety table, dim lighting that was the worst for actual studying, and the classic coffee shop jazz music playing through the speakers didn’t really make this the ideal place to learn.
The girls ordered and moved their way down the counter ending up only a few feet away from us.
Not quite close enough for me to be able to overhear their conversation, but enough that I noticed every time they looked over and broke into giggles.
Lilah’s shoulders stiffened and she angled her body so she was facing the window.
“Ignore them,” I whispered. Her eyes flicked to mine, looking unamused.
I was sure that she was remembering the girls from the hallway yesterday.
I wished I’d gotten the chance to give those girls a piece of my mind, but they’d all scattered the moment that the bell rang, just like how Lilah had run off.
My heart was shattered seeing the broken expression on her face as she ran off, but I push the memory aside and tap her hand with my pen.
“Come on. You’ve got that quiz on Friday. Let’s make Heathcliff proud.”
Lilah flipped to a fresh page that was covered in my doodles on the margins. “He’d probably just brood about it.”
“Then you’ll fit right in.”
She kicked me under the table. I took it as a good sign.
For the next fifteen minutes, I was on my best behavior. Quizzing her properly with only very minimal distractions (the main one being that I read the questions as dramatically as possible because watching her roll her eyes was my favorite hobby).
“What is the name of the village near Wuthering Heights?” I read off the practice quiz, putting on my worst British accent. When Lilah snorted, I added, “Go on, m’lady.”
“You sound like you’ve never met a British person in your life.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It wasn’t.”
“You’re smiling,” I said.
“That’s just my face.”
“Sure it is.”
Her knee brushed mine under the table—probably by accident, but my brain didn’t get that memo. She didn’t pull away and I sat practically frozen in place, barely daring to breathe in case it made her realize what she was doing and pull away.
Lilah stole the practice quiz back from me and smoothed it out on the table. “I think I’ll do better if I don’t have to hear the questions in your voice.”
“That felt very pointed.”
“Good.”
We managed another stretch of quiet study before I couldn’t take it anymore. She’d been rereading the same paragraph for ten minutes, the frown between her eyebrows deepening.
“You look like you’re about to die,” I said, leaning over her shoulder. Her hair brushed against my cheek, and I pretended I didn’t notice how my pulse jumped.
“I’m fine.”
“You’ve been on the same sentence for—”
“I’m fine, Tino.”
“You should stop trying to fight the book. It already won,” I said. She huffed a laugh but it didn’t reach her eyes. I frowned. “You’re stressed about the quiz.”
“I can’t fail another one,” she murmured. “I’ve been rereading the same section for twenty minutes and it still sounds like gibberish.”
“Then stop reading it.”
“I can’t.”
“Lilah,” I said, voice softening, “you’ve been studying for hours. You know this stuff. You’re just—”
“Panicking?” she muttered.
“Yeah. Spiraling. You need to get out of your own head.”
She groaned quietly and dropped her face into her hands. “Easy for you to say.”
I sighed and stood up. “I’ll get you another drink, okay? And in the meantime, don’t read any more of the book.”
She sighed but let the book fall closed and leaned back in her chair to wait.
I jumped to my feet and went to order her another disgusting drink that could barely be considered coffee, keeping one eye on her the whole time.
I was pretty sure the barista tried to make conversation with me but whatever she said went in one ear and out the other because all I could think about was Lilah. What else was new?
I grabbed the drink the moment it was done and put it down in front of Lilah. She just stared at it for a long minute. At first, I was worried I’d remembered her drink order wrong. But then she turned the cup toward me so I could see the name written in Sharpie on the side.
LILAH’S BOYFRIEND
I grinned. “Well, it’s not inaccurate.”
Lilah shook her head and took a sip, sighing gently. So I guess I did get the order right after all.
“Now what you need is a mental reset,” I said.
She raised her eyebrows. “And how do you suggest I do that?”
“By thinking about literally anything else,” I said, and when she gave me a skeptical look, I added, “Like… this weekend.”
Her brows knit. “What about it?”
“Our romantic getaway,” I said with mock gravity. “Two lovebirds driving across the province. Scandalous.”
That got a snort out of her. “It’s not a romantic getaway, Tino. We’re staying at Luca’s house—it’ll be us, my two brothers, my sister, and the whole band. And probably all of their girlfriends stopping in every day. I don’t really see us getting much alone time.”
“Anyways, point is: this weekend is your reward for surviving Bronte and whatever existential crisis she’s putting you through. And aren’t you excited to see all your siblings?”
Her shoulders relaxed just slightly. “That’s not how school works.”
“It is in my version,” I said. “You get through the quiz, and then we escape. No homework, no whispers, no anyone. Just us, the road, and my terrible singing voice.”
“Oh, great,” she said dryly. “Can’t wait for that.”
“Don’t act like you’re not excited.”
She hesitated—just for a second—but then the corner of her mouth tugged up. “Maybe a little.”
“See? Progress.” I nudged her knee under the table. “Now that’s the face of someone who’s not actively planning her funeral.”
She rolled her eyes but she was smiling for real now, the tension finally cracking.
I let the moment hang there, quiet but warm. Her eyes drifted back to her notes, and this time when she started reading again, she didn’t look like the words were trying to drown her.
“Hey,” I said after a minute.
“Hmm?”
“You’re gonna do fine on Friday.”
She looked up at me then, and for a second the teasing dropped away.
“You really think so?”
“I know so.” I shrugged. “You’ve got that scary determination thing going for you. Plus, if the quiz goes bad, I can always fake a medical emergency halfway through.”
She laughed and shook her head. “You’re not even in the class.”
“I’ll be able to sense your distress from across the school.”
“And run into my classroom to have said medical emergency?”
“You say that like it’s a bad plan.”
She rolled her eyes but the smile was still playing across her lips, making her look more happy than she had since yesterday morning.
I grinned, leaning back in my chair. “Now finish your coffee before it goes cold. That’s step one of my scientifically proven pre-quiz success plan.”
“Oh?” she said. “What’s step two?”
“Step two is letting me quiz you using interpretive dance,” I said. She gave me the flat look I deserved. “Or, you know, flashcards.”
“Yeah, I think I might stick with those.”
I watched her shake her head, amused despite herself, and something in me loosened. For the first time all day, she didn’t look like she was bracing for impact. And if I had to act like an idiot to make that happen—well, that was a price I’d happily keep paying.