Page 15 of The Wallflower and the Running Back

“Done.” I step in closer, flexing my fingers with a touch of flare, like that somehow makes shaking on our deal more attractive. She finally gives in and takes my hand, and on some sort of instinct I cover the back of her hand with my other palm when I feel how cold her skin is.

Her eyes drop to our touch and I rub my hands over hers a few times before letting go.

“You were cold,” I say, now feeling the heat of her confused stare.

“I was,” she croaks, quickly hiding both of her hands back in her coat pockets.

Feeling awkward, I tuck mine into the pocket of my hoodie.

“So—” My shoulders lift to my ears.

She quakes with short laugh.

“So, I suppose you’d like to go over the next lesson?”

I exhale, relief pouring out of my chest like a balloon deflating. I can’t hide my grin, either. I can’t pass this class without her.

“That would be amazing, Rachel. Thank you,” I say, picking my backpack up and moving to the empty table in the center of the room.

Rachel rolls a stool over and I grab one from the corner, nestling it next to her—close but not too close. I unzip my backpack and let my notes folder and chem book slide onto the table. Rachel snags the folder with her fingertip, her nails a light blue color, the polish chipped. There’s something sweet about her lack of material perfection. Or maybe I dated a cheerleader for too long.

“You find those missing notes?”

I flinch at her question.

“I uh . . .yeah. I found them.” I swallow and pull the folder away from her, feeling as if my entire face is flashing LIAR.

I flip open the book and pull the syllabus out, which I’m sure Rachel probably wrote for every Chem 101 professor in the department. When I realize she’s still staring at me, I pause and lift my head to meet her gaze. Everything feels tenuous. I’m off my game with her. She’s hard to read, and I’m pretty sure she’s unimpressed with most of the things I consider my best characteristics.

“You know what we agreed to, with the Science Ball?” she finally asks. Her lips pull tight, corners pinched. I hold her gaze for a moment, leaning on my elbow while I study her. I think she’s afraid I’m the one going to back out of things.

My eyes squint as I give her a one-sided smile.

“I think I got it, yeah.”

Her brow pulls in and her chin lowers.

“Are you sure?”

A nervous laugh slips from my mouth but I quickly shut it under the weight of her intense stare. I find myself sitting up taller as I clear my throat.

“Your ex. You want to make him jealous. Right?”

Her head shifts to the side a hair, her eyes remaining on mine, her mouth this slight and perhaps devious grin. Maybe she is one of the toxic poison types of scientists.

“Yeah, I want to make him jealous,” she finally confirms. “And you’re all right with that?”

That nervous laugh I ate before comes back up, a harsh ha! blasting at her. I lean into it and recall the way her ex looked at her, then down on me.

“Yeah, Rachel. I’m one-hundred-percent here for making him regret flipping things up with you,” I say, my smirk undeniable. It stretches high into my cheek, forcing my right eye to squint. I may suck at chemistry, but I can handle making a cute girl feel pretty in front of the jerk who let her go. Especially if it’s the girl who’s going to get me through this semester.

“You don’t need to watch your tongue when it comes to Dalton,” she says. “He fucked up. No need to make it sound nicer than it was.”

Her gaze lingers on mine for a breath, and I wait for her to say more about this ex who clearly hurt her. But she holds her tongue, leaving it at that. And maybe that’s enough. Perhaps Dalton doesn’t deserve an explanation. And really, it’s not my business. But the weight in her eyes, the way the blue somehow deepens the longer she looks at me, causes me to hold my breath and believe her at her word.

7/

rachel

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