Chapter Two
Ididn’t expect August’s house to be so large. Not that I had ever really pictured it. But I’d been to parties at some of his neighbors’ houses, though I didn’t recall ever seeing him at any of them.
“Do you know Paul?” I asked, pointing across the street as I got out of my car.
“Not at all,” he answered flatly as he pulled his bookbag from his passenger seat. The inside of his car, from what I could see, was spotless.
“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic,” I said.
“I get that a lot,” he replied in the same flat tone as he moved past me to the garage door. He punched a code into a box, which sent the large metal door into a slow cascade upward.
I waited awkwardly beside August. When it was high enough, he ducked under it and made his way across the empty cement room to a set of stairs.
“You’re not leading me to a dungeon to kill me, are you?” I asked as I followed him up the narrow steps.
“I only take girls to the dungeon on the third date,” was the only answer he afforded me before stopping to turn a key into the door. He pushed through it, and I followed.
His room was as large as the two-car garage we had entered through, with a door off the side that sat open, revealing a bathroom that was too clean to belong to a teenage boy.
A perfectly made bed sat in the corner at the far end under the only window.
In the center was a worn blue couch, a coffee table in front of it, and a large flat-screen mounted to the navy wall.
Behind the couch was a dresser that matched the bedframe and coffee table, and a mini fridge sitting on the floor next to it.
All of it boxed in by A-framed walls painted a deep navy color.
It was all so neat.
“This is nice,” I said brightly. “Like your own mini apartment.” I stepped further into the room but August stepped in front of me, frowning down at my Mary Jane’s.
“You want me to take my shoes off?” I guessed.
He nodded, silently. I noted how he didn’t answer with one of his usual smartass comebacks as I bent to undo the buckle at my ankle.
“Are your parents military?” I asked.
His head titled to the side, brows pinched.
“My dad’s a neat freak too. Most people assume it’s ’cause he was in the military.” I pulled my shoes off and placed them next to the door, beside August’s. I didn’t mention that my father hadn’t been trained by a drill sergeant, but a woman who cleaned compulsively.
I reached into my bag’s side pocket and pulled out a travel-size case of hand sanitizer. August watched me carefully as I rubbed the gel between my fingers. I held the tube out to him in offering, but he shook his head in answer.
I pulled my laptop out, a few loose papers coming out with it as I moved across the room. I sat on the floor, my back resting against the front of the couch, as I tucked my legs to the side.
I didn’t wait for August to join me before setting the computer on the coffee table and opening the digital notebook I had for Mrs. Deal’s class. It was empty.
August sat beside me on the floor, opening his own laptop in his lap. His long legs were stretched out under the table. “What parts are you struggling with the most?” he asked.
“All of it,” I said cheerfully.
August’s eyes searched my face for a hint that I was kidding, before moving to my computer, the blank page waiting there patiently.
“You haven’t taken a single note all semester?” he said, eyes wide.
I shook my head. “Look at it this way, you’re getting a clean slate to work with.”
He looked at me, horrified. “Lola…” he began.
I cut him off. “I’ve had the great fortune of being able to carefully craft my schedule to avoid having anything important in the morning. But it just so happens all that good luck has caught up with me, then promptly bent me over and fucked me my senior year, when it matters most.”
He stared at me blankly.
“I’m not a morning person,” I clarified.
“Noted,” his voice tight as if the fact bothered him for a reason I couldn’t pinpoint.
August rambled on for the next hour, highlighting the more important parts as he made me copy each of his color-coded notes. He made sure I followed his ‘foolproof’ organizational system as I went.
After the third time he swatted my hand away from his keyboard when I tried to ask him about a note labeled “Draft One” on his sidebar, I had grown depressingly bored of discussing marine biology.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” I asked abruptly.
August narrowed his eyes at me and answered: “No.”
“Why not?” I frowned.
He only stared at me. “That isn’t going to be on our test tomorrow.” He reminded me, as if I didn’t know Mrs. Deal enjoyed ruining weekends for sport.
“I’m surprised,” I said. “About the girlfriend, not the quiz,” I clarified after his brows knit together.
“Why is that surprising?” His tone carried a hint of mocking as if he somehow knew the answer already.
“Because you’re really handsome.”
Surprise flickered across his face, and I wondered what he was expecting me to say. When it vanished, he suddenly looked about as bored of this conversation as I had been of biology.
“Are you always this standoffish?” I asked.
“Are you always this nosy?” he fired back.
“Yes,” I snapped. “But mostly when I can’t figure out why someone doesn’t like me.”
“Well, for starters, you put trash on my computer this morning,” he said, a bit too harsh.
“It wasn’t trash! It was a pep talk!” I exclaimed.
He looked at me the same way he had when I arrived on Andy’s shoulders earlier.
I rolled my eyes and stood to retrieve the bag of cough drops from the front pocket of my bag.
When I sat down next to him again, I pulled one of the candies out, unwrapping it.
I popped it into my mouth and studied the paper in my hands, debating which text to fold it around.
I found the perfect one and began tucking the corners in. When I was finished I handed the wrapper to August, who looked at it hesitantly.
He took it from me eventually, his warm fingers brushing over mine as he did. He read the text aloud: “Take what you want.”
He stared up at me, no trace of amusement in his features. “How is this meant to be a pep talk?”
I shrugged. “I just think it’s funny.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re all kind of inherently sexual.”
His brows folded inward at that. “So you have the humor of a twelve-year-old boy.”
“Yes,” I agreed instantly.
He eyed me, his attention dropping to my mouth, sucking on the cough drop. The attention made my throat dry, and I had the brief imagery of taking the lozenge out of my mouth and placing it in his.
He does not want your germs, Lola. A violent voice echoed through my thoughts from a place long buried.
“Why do you only eat those on Thursdays?” he asked, catching me off guard.
“How could you possibly know that?”
“I’m very attentive,” he said. “Are you doing something that makes you sick?”
I felt heat rise up in my cheeks. “I hang out with Andy on Wednesday evenings,” I said slowly.
“And he’s what, only contagious on Wednesdays?”
I rolled my eyes. “My sore throat isn’t from anything contagious, August,” I said even slower.
His brows furrowed, and I watched as the realization flooded his features, turning his cheeks into a flush that shone a bright coral under his tan skin.
“Jesus, no wonder girls don’t like doing that,” he said.
I laughed. “Well, not every guy is as rough as Andy is.”
August searched my expression in a way that made me feel exposed. “Do you like that?”
I swallowed, then shrugged. “I don’t mind.”
“That isn’t a yes,” he said sternly.
“Well, it isn’t any of your business, is it?”
August’s face moved into something even harder than his usual scowl. “No. It’s not. I just don’t see why you’d do something that hurts you that much.”
“Because relationships are a compromise,” the words sounded rehearsed even to me.
“Well, I hope you’re cashing in on your end. Would hate to think of Woodland High’s favorite couple as being anything but transactional.”
I slammed my laptop shut. “How much do I owe you?”
He looked at me, bewildered. “You don’t have to pay me.”
“I said I would, so name your price.”
He shook his head. “I don’t want your money, Lola.”
“Then why did you agree to tutor me?”
“Because you needed it,” he said, as if the answer should be obvious.
I stared at him. “Fine.”
“Fine,” he said back, no emotion in it.
“Thanks for the notes. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You’re leaving?” he asked, but I ignored the suddenly soft inflection of the words.
“Yes. We’re done studying and I don’t feel like being judged, or slut-shamed or whatever this is by someone who’s probably never been in a relationship before.”
He reared back, and I regretted saying it instantly.
“I wasn’t judging you. I would never judge a woman for enjoying sex, Lola,” he said, a bit angry.
“Sure feels like you are,” I bit back.
“I’m sorry,” he said instantly.
I didn’t know what to do with that, so I just said, “Okay.”
He gave me a sad smile. “You don’t have to say okay if you’re mad at me, Lola.” I wished he’d stop saying my name like that.
“Stop talking to me like a child, August. I don’t need you to micromanage my feelings for me.”
He grimaced. “I don’t mean to.”
I marched over to my bag, shoving the laptop and cough drops back in. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”
“I don’t know how to make friends very easily,” he called from his spot on the floor. I turned back to find him staring at me. “Especially girls.”
“Shocker,” I said.
He grimaced, and I felt like I’d kicked a puppy. A thought flickered across me instantly. Before I could think it through, I was moving to sit on the couch. His expression was weary as he looked up at me.
“Do you want to have girl friends, August?” He nodded silently. “Alright, well I want to pass biology. So maybe we can help each other.”
He graced me with one of those rare lopsided grins. “You gonna tutor me in girls, Lola?”
I nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, August, I am.”