Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“For the record, I hate this.”
Will and I are working late in the library, papers scattered across the table, laptops open.
By some cruel twist of fate, Professor Gene chose us both to be class volunteers.
Apparently, we have similar averages and would each benefit from the volunteer grade bonus—impossible, if you ask me, because there’s no way Will’s doing his work at all, and I’ve been busting my ass—yet he refuses to choose between us.
And trust me, I mean refuses.
Will and I begged. We bargained. We reasoned.
Professor Gene wasn’t budging.
It’s either both of us or neither of us.
“Feel free to quit, then.” Will beams at me. He knows I won’t. We both know I won’t. He huffs out a long breath, leaning back and shoving his laptop to the side. “Look, this sucks. Like, this is my nightmare. Working with you, looking at you, remembering you exist.”
“Will.”
He gives a breathy laugh. “But I also need to pass this class, a class that’s definitely going to get harder by the end of the semester, and I could really use an easy win. So, I’m not quitting. And I don’t think you should quit either.”
Just for that, maybe I will quit. He can’t tell me what to do.
This is never going to work.
“So we have to work together on a few datasets, so what? We might have to create a chart or two together once or twice a week. Not the end of the world.”
“It’s more than that. Like the entire semester,” I point out. “Probably a few evenings per week for months.”
“I know what a semester is.”
I clench my jaw. “And I’m not going to pull your weight. I’m not going to do the work for you.”
“I’m not asking you to, okay? I’m going to do the work because I need to pass. And Professor Gene said if we can’t get along, he’ll give the opportunity to someone else. So, I’m proposing…we get along.”
“Monumental idea. Five stars,” I deadpan.
“I’m serious. What if…we pretend to get along. To be friends, even. Just to pass this class. And then we can go back to hating each other.”
“My favorite hobby. What will I do with all my free time?”
“Opal.” He’s serious in a way that makes me pause. He rarely calls me by my name, so when he does, it sends a pulse through my gut.
I lick my lips, thinking. “I…I don’t trust you not to ruin my report just to embarrass me.”
The corners of his eyes go soft, like he’s actually shocked I said that. “I won’t. I wouldn’t do that.”
I purse my lips. We both know that’s a lie.
“I swear I won’t. We’ll be in this together. Fake partners.”
“We’d be real partners,” I tell him, my voice low.
“Fine. Fake friends, then.”
The taste of pennies fills my mouth. There’s not been a single day of my life that hasn’t been dedicated to hating Will. How would we even pretend to be friends? I wouldn’t know where to start. But…he’s right. I need to pass this class, and doing it this way means an easy A.
I hold my breath. “Fine. But if you use this to embarrass me, or to trick me, or to set me up for some weird little game you and your friends are planning, I will sneak into your bedroom at Christmas, and I will kill you in your sleep.”
He nods solemnly. “Understood.”
We set to work, typing silently next to each other and flipping through stacks of papers we’ve printed out. I’m busy trying to organize a spreadsheet while Will pieces together figures from three different graphs, when I feel him tap my arm.
Begrudgingly, I look up, blinking. “Yes, friend?”
“Money Bags is here.” He jerks his chin toward the door, and I follow his gaze, then immediately regret it.
Banks has just walked into the library, a stack of books in his arms. He catches me staring at him, and it’s so obvious I can’t even pretend to have been looking elsewhere.
I give him a small smile, heat climbing my neck, and turn away.
Will’s eyes twinkle as he watches me, taking far too much delight in my discomfort.
I glare at him, unblinking. “Stop. You look like the Cheshire Cat.”
“He should be so lucky.” Impossibly, his smile grows wider. “Update. Money Bags is coming over here.”
My stomach plummets. “Stop. Will. Stop. Please. I’m begging you. Please. Will.”
“Banks, hey!” Will calls, his voice too loud.
“Shhh.” Someone at a table nearby shushes him, but Will isn’t fazed.
To my utter mortification, I sense the presence of someone standing next to me. He balances his books on the edge of the table and brushes my shoulder with his fingers. “Hey, Opal. And, uh, sorry…I’m blanking.”
“Will,” Will tells him. “Opal’s best friend.”
“Ah, hi. Right. You guys having a late-night study sesh? I always like the library best at night.”
The joy on Will’s face could light the room. “Yeah, we’re just sesh-ing it up, you know.” He jerks his folded arm inward, like aww shucks. He’s making fun of Banks, and Banks either doesn’t realize it or doesn’t care.
“For statistics,” I tell him. “Will and I are the class volunteers.”
“Really? Congrats, you guys. That’s fantastic. Professor Gene can be harsh, but you’ll handle it.” He’s looking directly at me, and the reassurance feels like exactly what I needed to hear. Then, as if he remembers Will is there too, he says, “Well, I don’t want to interrupt.”
“You’re not interrupting at all,” Will says, clearing a space at the table. “Do you want to join us? I, for one, would love that.”
Banks hesitates. “Um…I appreciate it, but I have to prepare for a lecture, so I should really focus. It was nice to see you. I’ll see you in class, Opal.”
“A lecture?” Will calls, drawing Banks back before he has the chance to escape. I sink lower into my chair. He’s doing this on purpose, and he’s enjoying it.
“Oh. I’m a TA. Working on my PhD. It’s why I’m taking the cross-listed statistics course.”
“A TA working on his PhD, hmm? Wow. A lot of letters. That’s impressive. You’d be, like, a doctor,” Will says, still teasing. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him.
“Not the kind you’d want to call on a plane,” Banks tries to joke.
He scrubs a hand over the back of his neck.
“It’s just for elementary education. Probably overkill, but…
I like to be prepared, I guess.” Scarlet patches spread on his cheeks.
“Better than falling behind.” He meets my eyes, and my heart picks up the pace.
He’s so handsome, but that’s not why I’m intrigued by him.
Not really. It’s…a steadiness. He feels grown up. Like nothing rattles him.
“That’s really cool,” I tell him, trying to make up for Will’s obnoxious comments.
“Well, I should get back to it.” He takes a step away. “Nice to see you both.”
When he disappears, my eyes linger. Following him. I can’t help it. He’s so…normal. So calm. Sure of himself.
I feel the burn of stares, heat that rises like flames on my skin, deepening my awareness of my breathing.
Will is watching me now. Not Banks anymore. Me.
For half a second, I don’t think he realizes he’s been caught.
I turn my head to find his eyes narrowed on me with a look of intensity I’ve never seen on his face. Brows drawn. Jaw tight. Not smiling. Not teasing. His face is completely unreadable.
He clears his throat, looking down, and reaches for his pencil. It slips from his fingers and clatters to the floor. He bends, checking to see that I’m still looking, but for once, there’s no joke. Just heavy silence I don’t fully understand.
He grabs the pencil from the floor and readjusts, rolling it between his fingers like he’s considering something. Then one corner of his mouth lifts.
Everything in me sinks. I know that look.
I glare, waiting.
He lifts a finger to his ear, like he’s receiving a message through an earpiece. “So, in a stunning new development, you’ve got a crush on a professor.” He wiggles his brows.
“He’s a teaching assistant. They’re different, and you know it.”
He pretends to wipe tears from his eyes. “What will our moms say when they learn you’re marrying a doctor? Our little girl, all grown up.”
I grind my teeth together. “Shut up, Will. We’re friends. We sit next to each other in one class. Drop it. He doesn’t like me.”
There’s a beat.
“Yeah. He does.” His words are clipped. Like he’s annoyed he’s having to spell it out.
My eyes flick up to meet Will’s without warning, and his own words seem to have caught him off guard. We just stare at each other. His eyes move slowly between mine, jaw tight.
I want to ask how he knows, if he’s sure, but I can’t make myself so vulnerable. The teasing would never end. I can physically feel the weight of Will’s thoughts buzzing a thousand miles a minute.
“But fine. I’ll stop,” he agrees, turning back toward his laptop. Under his breath, he adds, “Not a very smart doctor, anyway. What do elementary teachers even make?”
“More than you’ll make as a…what? Water slide attendant?”
He crosses his fingers without looking my way. “Only if the stripper thing falls through.”
I curl my upper lip. “Like you have the body for stripping.”
He turns toward me again and leans forward. His knee brushes mine, then lingers there. He doesn’t pull away as a wave of unexpected heat lashes at my skin. His voice is low, meant just for me. “Good to know you’ve been thinking about my body.”
I scowl, moving my knee away from his. “Mostly in science.”
His brows give a quick, sharp tug. Barely noticeable, but I see it. “Really? I’m happy to let you experiment.”
“Great. We’re doing dissections next week.”
He throws his hands behind his head with an exaggerated breath.
When he meets my eyes again, I say, “Can you just leave it alone? Why do you care if I like him? Which I don’t. But it’s not just him. It’s you. You’ve always done this. With every guy I’ve ever dated.”
He points his pencil at me. “So, to be clear, you are dating the professor?”
“Leave me alone, Will.”
“Hard to do. You’re practically obsessed with me. We’re besties now. And we’re on this project together. Remember? Besides, if anything, I helped you out.”
I refuse to look his way, but I have to know. “Helped me?”
“He thought we were on a date. Clearly, he could sense our undeniable sexual chemistry. How badly you want me.”
I pretend to barf.
Will’s voice levels out, suddenly serious. “He was jealous.”
Impossible. My breathing stalls. Slowly, I glance over my shoulder. Banks is watching but looks away the second I meet his eyes. I turn back to Will. “He was not.”
“Trust me, he was.” His face remains steady for several seconds, thoughts dancing behind his eyes.
He’s always looking at me like that, like he’s deciding something.
“So, if you want me to flirt a little, make him even more jealous…” He lifts his hand, and for just a second, I’m almost positive he’s going to touch my cheek, brush the hair from my face, but then his arm falls, and he grips the edge of the table instead.
He looks away, returning his gaze to the laptop screen.
“I could be persuaded to suffer through it. Just, you know, say the word or whatever.”
“Please don’t.”
He shrugs. “Your loss.”
“I can get dates all on my own, believe it or not. I don’t need your help.”
“Feel free to prove it.”
“Maybe I will.”
He lifts his head, watching me again. Like before. But this time I don’t give him the satisfaction of looking back.
As the evening drags on, his eyes return to me more than his screen. He thinks I don’t realize it, but I’m very aware.
I wish I wasn’t. I wish I could focus.
There’s something strange about the way he’s watching me now, like I’m the experiment he’s trying desperately to understand.
I don’t say another word the rest of the night.
Thankfully, neither does he.