Chapter 16
Oliver
I wondered what Dean liked to eat besides burgers. There were still quite a few hours to figure out dinner. But . . . I wasn’t that patient.
As quietly as I could, I tore a piece of paper out of my notebook.
Dean glanced over at me, making it hard to be inconspicuous.
After writing the question down, I folded it up into a domed shape that fit nicely over the eraser of my pencil.
Stretching my arms out to each side, I tipped the pencil enough that the note fell into the back of his shirt.
He reached around to touch his neck, then shot me a look before he unfolded the paper. When he shook his head, I pouted a little.
I ripped out another piece, highly aware of the way he looked at me. Chewing on my pencil, I tried to think of something more interesting.
My phone buzzed, so I pulled it out quickly.
Broku: Leave me alone
Ignoring the text, I started writing.
You look way too serious right now, Broku. What’s the lecture about?
Rolling it into a ball, I positioned my hand just right and flicked it over to him. It landed on his desk, nearly falling to the floor, but he casually stopped it at the last second. I ducked my head, hoping Mr. Pritchard wouldn’t notice what was going on. It felt like high school all over again.
Without warning, the little paper ball hit me in the eye, making me swear. Everyone looked at me, and I offered them a smile.
“Everything alright, Oli?” Mr. Pritchard asked.
“Peachy. Just broke my lead.” I snapped it off in my lap, then held up the pencil to show him.
When he started going over the material again, I unfolded the paper to see what Dean had written.
You’d know if you were paying attention.
I clicked the end of the pencil to let out more lead. Translation: you’re as lost as I am.
After I rolled it up, I saw him stretch his hand toward me discreetly.
I placed the note in his palm, and he closed his fist, trapping my fingers for a second.
When I looked at him, he was already starting to open it.
The corner of his lips twitched as he read it, but he kept his expression carefully controlled.
He returned the note, and I hurriedly flattened it out. Translation: you’re distracting.
I’m more interesting than Mr. Pritchard.
I could practically hear his next response. You’re delusional.
Yet you’re entertaining my nonsense.
You’d probably get sad if I didn’t.
Does that matter?
This time, he didn’t pass the note back. I considered writing another, but it felt too desperate at this point.
“Okay, kids,” the professor said, resting his hands on the desk. “Get out of here. I’ll see you next week. Don’t forget you have your first check-in for your project due Tuesday.”
I caught Dean at the door before he could get out of sight. He seemed to be moving faster than usual, like he was dying to escape.
“You didn’t answer my last question.”
He barely glanced at me. “I thought it was rhetorical.”
“What about the first?”
“My second favorite food? I don’t sit around rating them.”
“Maybe you should. Life’s all about choices. Gotta make good ones.”
His soft laugh had me staring at the side of his face while we walked down the hall. He held the door open for me, keeping his gaze on my eyes the entire time. I smiled at him, but he just raised a brow.
While I was distracted, someone came barreling out of the door like a man on a mission, colliding with my backpack. It sent me off balance, but strong hands grabbed me, like two vices that even the most powerful wind couldn’t stop from holding me in place.
“Hey, asshole!” Dean shouted. When the guy kept walking, he shook his head. He was still holding onto my arms, and I was just staring at him. I was pretty sure my eyes were wide as saucers, but there was a commanding edge to his voice that froze me in place.
“Want me to find out where he lives?” Brooks asked, coming up beside us.
Dean softened his grip, then dropped his hands. “You okay?”
“All good.” I knew my voice sounded lame as hell, but what was a guy to do about it?
With a nod, he turned on his heel and started walking away. Was I supposed to follow? He hadn’t invited me, but damn, I wanted to.
I jumped a little when Brooks hooked his arm through mine. “Last class, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I know. Just being polite.”
I walked with him toward the parking lot, still thinking about the look in Dean’s eyes. The bass in his voice. His anger should’ve made me feel trapped while his hands were on me, but it hadn’t.
“So, things are going well with you guys,” Brooks said, drawing me out of my head.
“Yeah, we’re doing fine.”
“That’s an understatement.”
Pulling my arm free, I turned toward him and crossed my arms. “Dean ignored you earlier.”
“He’s not my biggest fan at the moment.” He shrugged casually. “A lot of things hang in the balance right now. You choosing sides, Oli?”
After studying him for a second, I shook my head. “Just analyzing.”
“You’re good at that.”
“So are you. For different reasons, though.”
A real chuckle passed his lips. “And both of our reasons have led us to want something we can’t have. Or can we?”
“Your contrived air of mystery doesn’t throw me off, you know.”
His lips thinned for the briefest moment before he forced them to curve upward. “Oh, yeah?”
“Just go after Tilian already.”
“Go after Dean, then.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it. “That’s different.”
“Not really. I told you he’s a nurturer. And look at him, trying to take care of you.”
“I . . .”
“Speechless. I love it.”
“My best friend takes care of me too,” I said. “That’s all it is.”
“Maybe, but you could be open about what you feel.”
“I sort of have been,” I admitted, thinking about when I’d told Dean I was attracted to him.
He hadn’t been bothered by it, but he also clearly wasn’t interested.
He hardly knew me, and if he wanted to take care of me, it was only because he’d seen how much of a mess I made of things on my own. “He’s just being a friend.”
Brooks hummed as he pulled something out of his pocket. My eyes narrowed at the crumpled note. He laughed lightly when I snatched it from him.
“See ya around, Oli.”
I just raised my hand before I walked the rest of the way to my car. Once I sat down, I unfolded the paper. Looking at the last thing Dean had written, I bit my lip.
I like you better when you’re not sad. Sue me.
It wasn’t a weird thing to say. If he’d passed it to me in class, I probably wouldn’t have thought much of it. But he hadn’t given it back. He’d even told me he thought the question was rhetorical. So, why did he respond?
I pulled out my phone, then glanced around as if someone might catch me in the act.
I’d been working on this for a few days.
A couple calls here, a couple calls there—enough to get a decent list of doctors who were hiring.
Most people would’ve stopped there. Normal people.
But Dean’s mom deserved better than ‘good enough,’ and if that meant I had to be a little . . . creative, then so be it.
I wasn’t sure if this was wrong. Or ethical. Or sane. Definitely an invasion of privacy, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how Dean said his mom was stuck at the ER, drowning in twelve-hour shifts. Somebody needed to give her a break. So, I might’ve called a few offices. More than a few.
If this worked, Dean would never have to know. And if it didn’t, no harm done, right?