Chapter 7
Starting my Tuesday with English isn’t half bad. Honestly, it might be the best way to ease into the week. Mrs. Tezzarano knows what she’s doing, and the subject matter doesn’t bore me to death. Win-win in my book.
I move past their row without slowing down and slide into an open seat in the back.
I like this class, but that doesn’t mean I’m about to be one of those people sitting front and center.
I can hear just fine from here and more importantly, see without being seen.
As I reach down for my bag, movement up ahead catches my eye.
Long, pale legs stretch out in front of the desk, crossed at the ankle.
Smooth and bare. My gaze trails up before I can stop it, and…
It’s Olivia. My stomach flips, and I hate the way it feels.
I jerk my gaze away and toss my bag onto the desk, digging through it.
My hand finds my water bottle, and I twist the cap off with a little more force than necessary.
“Good morning, class,” Mrs. Tezzarano begins once the final bell rings. “Today we’ll start off with a test. It won’t be graded, just a way to gauge where the majority of you are. What’s the weak point?”
She walks past each row, dropping stacks of papers at the first desk. We pass them back, one by one, until one lands in front of me and immediately, I notice it.
A smell clings faintly to the page, and before I know it, I’m leaning in, breathing it in. I can’t place it exactly. Sweet, but not just sweet. There’s something else buried under it, something familiar.
The room is quiet while everyone flips pages and starts scribbling answers.
Meanwhile, I’m still hunched over like I’ve never seen paper before.
The scent’s already starting to fade, but if I bring the test closer, I can still catch it.
It’s driving me insane. I sigh and glance up at the clock on the wall.
I glare at the clock like it’s to blame, then drag my eyes back down.
That’s when I lock eyes with Liv. She’s on her way back to her seat after turning in her test. Her expression freezes, wide-eyed, like a deer in headlights. The sight makes me grimace. Of course she saw me looking like a complete weirdo.
I glance back at my paper. No name. No answers. What the hell is wrong with me? I sigh again and finally get to work. The scent’s gone now, completely faded. Maybe that’s for the best.
Standing in line at the snack bar with Rafe and Silas, I stare off into the crowd, not really seeing anything.
The two of them are deep in conversation, throwing around strategy for this year’s hockey season.
I’m on the team too, mostly because we’ve always done it together.
I like hockey, sure, but I could take it or leave it.
That’s when I notice the same scent from my English test this morning. Sweet and warm. I glance around and spot a few people holding baked goods from the snack bar. Must be a new batch for the week.
When we reach the front of the line, I grab a water and a pack of jerky.
Rafe does the same. Silas, on the other hand, goes full feast mode.
Chips, cookies, a sandwich, two drinks. The guy’s a bottomless pit and still built like a twig.
Sure, he’s got muscle from hockey and hitting the gym, but he’s all lean, where Rafe’s built like a truck.
I’m somewhere in the middle. We take our stuff back to one of the round stone tables by the courtyard and sit, making the most of the rest of the break.
After changing out for OA, I slam my locker shut and head for the gym. Pushing through the double doors, I spot Rafe and Silas hanging out near the bleachers. A sharp whistle cuts through the air just as I reach them, and we all turn toward the teacher.
“Alright everyone, it’s another ‘make your choice’ day, so head outside and do whatever makes you happy!” one of the teachers shouts.
Even though there are two teachers and two separate classes, we all end up lumped together during OA. No one seems to care. Most of us are just happy to be left alone.
“So, what do you guys wanna do?” Silas asks, crunching on a bag of chips. The guy’s always eating. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him not chewing something.
“I need to get some cardio in,” Rafe says. “Let’s run track.”
Not a suggestion. More of a command. That’s just Rafe. Always in control.
Silas crumples his empty chip bag and tosses it into a nearby trash can. “Sounds good. Let’s go.”
We hit the track and run laps for a solid twenty minutes before finally slowing down. All of us are breathing hard, chest heaving. Silas walks a few circles with his hands on his head. I do the same. Rafe, of course, acts like it was nothing.
“Phew. That was good,” Silas says between breaths.
I turn to agree when it hits me. Minty sweetness. My face twists in disgust as I look around. “Good god. Who the hell is eating candy during OA?” I gawk.
Rafe and Silas glance at each other, then scan the area. I follow their gaze, but there’s no one with food in sight.
“I mean, I would,” Silas says with a shrug. “I usually have a Rice Krispie before working out. Quick energy. You should try it.”
“It’s ridiculous,” I snap, already turning toward the grass. I drop down with a huff and sit, annoyed for reasons I can’t name.
“Why?” Rafe asks, his voice edged with that casual judgment he does so well. “It’s just food. Just ’cause you don’t like sweets doesn’t mean no one else can.”
“Whatever.” I rake a hand through my hair. It’s hotter than usual today, and sweat’s already starting to stick to the back of my neck. I lie back on the grass and cover my eyes with my forearm, trying to bring my heart rate down.
“Dude, what’s got you so peeved?” Silas asks, plopping down beside me. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and tries to peek under my arm.
“Nothing, man. Just been a long week, I guess.”
I drop my arm back over my eyes and let the quiet settle in. The rest of OA passes in silence, with the sun hot on my skin and that damn scent still lingering somewhere in the air.
Public Relations isn’t exactly the most popular elective. Only about ten or so of us signed up, so when I walk in, I just pick a random seat. I only took this class because my grandma suggested it. Said it would “help with my presence.” Whatever that means.
I lean back in my chair and watch the door as Olivia walks in. The second she sees me, she freezes, then heads straight for the farthest desk she can find. I can’t help the smile that pulls at my mouth. She’s squirming, and I haven’t even done anything to her.
If she only knew.
The bell rings, and Mr. Carter strolls to the front of the room. “Hope you all enjoyed lunch,” he says, settling casually against the edge of the desk behind him. “On the first day of school, you took a personality test. I’m sure you all remember that.”
He lifts a thick stack of papers from behind him and holds it up.
“Well, after reviewing your responses, I’ve got your partner assignments.”
My smile fades. I drop my hands from behind my head and sit up straighter. Partners? Guess it was naive to think we wouldn’t get grouped up eventually, but still. I didn’t expect that.
“Your partner will be with you for the entire year,” Mr. Carter adds.
A wave of murmurs ripples across the room. I don’t join in. I’m too busy feeling my stomach drop.
All year? That’s absurd.
“You’ve been grouped together based on a business hierarchy,” Mr. Carter explains. “In the real world, you won’t be working alone, so this gives you a chance to collaborate with someone like-minded.”
He straightens and looks down at the list in his hand. “First up, Archer and Olivia.”
My mouth drops open. I whip my head to the side and catch Olivia wearing the same stunned expression. No way. No way this is happening. As if dealing with Silas’s endless obsession with her wasn’t enough, now I have to spend an entire class partnered with her?
Mr. Carter moves down the list, calling out more names.
“Lana and Marcus.”
There’s a giggle from the back. Lana spins around in her seat with a beaming smile. Marcus grins and gives her a thumbs-up.
“Tyson and Elliot.”
A pair of guys near the window bump fists and laugh like they just won the lottery.
Mr. Carter continues, calling name after name, and the class hums with chatter. Some people are excited. Some are already moving seats, sliding desks together. The energy is light. Except for me and Olivia.
He lifts a stack of papers from his desk. “Get with your partner, figure out why I paired you, and talk through your assignment. You’re free to spend the period anywhere on campus.”
He hands me my sheet and the moment it touches my fingers, that scent hits me again. Minty sweetness. I flick my gaze to his desk. He’s already seated again, sipping from a coffee mug. Next to it, on a folded napkin, are two soft-looking cookies. Will I ever be rid of it?
Olivia is standing nearby, clearly unsure of what to do. I shove the papers into her hands, sling my bag over my shoulder, and head for the door. When she doesn’t follow, I pause just outside and glance back.
“I suggest you start following,” I say.
Outside, the air is warmer. I walk across the courtyard toward a stone table under the shade of a big tree.
Tossing my bag down, I swing one leg over the bench and sit.
A minute later, Olivia takes the seat across from me, her gaze stuck to her lap.
She sets the papers on the table and slides them forward.
“So…” she says quietly, barely looking up. “Where should we start?”
I turn to my right and look at her. She seems to have shrunk into herself.
Not that she’s been loud or overly outgoing, but right now…
she looks small. Fragile, even. I lift an eyebrow, considering, then decide to ease off a little.
With a quiet sigh, I run a hand through my hair and swing my other leg over the bench to fully face her.
“Maybe we should compare our answers,” I say. “Carter said we’re supposed to figure out why he paired us together.”
I grab both of our papers and hold them side by side. That same damn minty smell hits me again, and I do my best to ignore it.
Olivia seems to perk up a bit from behind the pages, and I glance at her over the top.
She’s staring straight at me and I mean really staring.
Her eyes are beautiful. Green, but not just green.
Golden in places, like honey, and mossy in others.
To say they aren’t entrancing would be a total and utter lie.
“Archer?” she says.
I blink. Right. She asked me something. “What did you put for the first question?” she repeats.
I hand her back her paper and look down at mine. The first question: Describe your idea of a perfect day. Weird question, but the more I think about it, the more I get it. You can learn a lot about someone from what they consider perfect.
“I put that I’d spend it with someone who’s no longer with me.” I clear my throat. “How about you?”
There’s a shift. A hitch in her breath. A flush rises just under her collarbone. Her right hand tightens on the paper, crinkling the corner. She starts chewing her bottom lip.
“Liv?” I say quietly.
Her eyes flick from the page to mine. There’s something raw in them.
“I… I put I’d spend it with a heavily missed friend,” she whispers.
I catch the shimmer at the edge of her eyes. Tears that haven’t fallen yet. I glance down at my own paper, trying to understand. Her answer sounds like the person is far away but her reaction tells more. I can’t help another look. She’s still staring at me.