Page 2 of Fast Break
He walks past me in the cafeteria with this carefree look on his face, usually with a friend or two beside him. Sometimes I’ll try and do something silly or attention seeking just to see if I can get him to look, but it never works. He just slides on by, too cool and sophisticated for the likes of me.
It kills me, his disregard.
For someone who has never had to try for attention, Quinn’s disregard hurts my soul something fierce.
I need him to see me. I need him to look at me and acknowledge me or something, even just a simple damn smile will do. And I don’t even know why. I don’t know why this is so earth shatteringly important to me, to have Quinn Dayton’s attention on me. But it is. I want him to look, and I want him to see me. And maybe a small part of me wants him to like me too. Is that too much to ask? I’m likeable dammit. Everyone likes me. I’m fun and interesting and maybe a little bit nice looking if it’s not too vain of me to say.
Why won’t he look at me?
“Sup, JT. You’re looking a little stressed over here, bro,” Trey says, shoulder checking me and disturbing my perfect line of vision to where Quinn sits in the front row, pulling out his workbook and looking like he doesn’t have a single concern in the whole entire world.
“Not stressed at all,” I assure my cousin as he slings his bag to the floor and takes the seat beside me.
“My legs are killing me from training yesterday,” Trey groans, stretching out his long limbs. Trey inherited our grandpa’s height from our genetic bloodline, and I do try to be happy for him—even though I would basically trade my soul for those extra few inches. “Coach Vizard must hate us.”
“Yeah, that was a killer sesh,” I agree, latching onto something other than my obsession with Quinn Dayton’s grey school pants. “But what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right?”
Trey laughs, the sound coming out like a bark, causing heads to turn our way. Well, all heads other than the attractive dark brunette in the front row.
“You sound like a fitness commercial, cuz.”
“Nah, just coach’s favourite,” I grin back.
“Why do all our coaches love you so much?” Trey grumbles. “It was the same when we were baby juniors too.”
“Um, maybe because I actually listen and put in the effort.”
“I listen,” Trey protests, poking me sharply in the side. Of course, that kind of challenge cannot be ignored so I poke him back and next minute Mr Peters is walking in and berating us both as we descend into an all-out tussle in the back row. I catch Chanel’s eye, and she sends an amused twinkle my way while my eyes ping back to where Quinn is sitting, only to be disappointed that he is still not looking. Unlike everyone else in class.
Mr Peters looks down his unforgiving nose at us. “If the Mr Sterlings plural are quite done with their antics we can start the class.”
I squirm in my seat and whack Trey one last time after he tries to subtly poke me in the thigh and try my hardest to concentrate. Like Quinn is doing in row number one. The model student who also happens to look like a pinup.
Mr Peters walks to the front of the classroom and brings up a slide on the big screen. I squint to read the tiny font, acutely aware this would be achieved far more simply from the front row. I read:
“Class Project – Investigating Renewable Energy Sources and their Efficiency”.
Well, I know I can’t answer for anyone else in the classroom but that slide certainly sounds ominous.
“Now,” Mr Peters continues, glancing over his spectacles at us, “As I have been threatening all year, we are about to embark on our big class project that will last for the remainder of the term. This is worth thirty percent of your grade so please do take heed of what I am about to say next. Students will be assigned to work in a group of two to investigate different types of renewable energy sources such as solar, wind, hydro and biomass, and compare their efficiency, cost and environmental impact. This project combines elements of physics, chemistry and environmental science, making it interdisciplinary and about as exciting as a high school science project can possibly be.”
I try not to groan even though inwardly I am starting to freak out. Science is so not my forte and I have missed a whole lot of the areas the class already studied last semester. I’m already on the back foot from switching schools and that’s before we even start. The good news is that this is a group project, and I send up a prayer that I will be matched with a person far smarter than me. Though I am aware that probably encompasses most everyone in class.
“Your project partner has been assigned by me,” Mr Peters continues, “and a significant amount of time I don’t have, and energy I have even less of, has been wasted in ensuring the pairings are fair and equitable. As such, any student who feels the need to air their grievances about their project partnership is welcome to do so to the school counsellor or to your friends during your next break. In other words, do not come crying to me. My decision is final.”
Ah, Mr Peters. Nothing like a bit of old-fashioned dictatorship to really set the class’s mind at ease. I tune out as Mr Peters starts reciting names from his list and it wavers that way until I hear a name that has me perking up in my seat.
“Quinn Dayton,” Mr Peters begins, my ears suddenly overly invested, “will be paired with Jethro Thomas Sterling.”
Now, correct me if I’m wrong but that certainly sounded a lot like my name just as the ground starts to feel a little wobbly underfoot. Are we having an earthquake? I’m not sure what’s going on, but I realise I haven’t even corrected Mr Peters double naming me as my eyes drift upwards and find two answered prayers all tied up in one extremely gorgeous package. Because Quinn Dayton’s expectant, expressively intelligent eyes are suddenly looking my way.
Yes, Quinn Dayton is finally looking at me and suddenly there is no air in the room. First earthquakes and now oxygen deprivation? What a day to be alive.
I realise it must have taken some time for me to process these unexpected revelations as both Trey and Quinn are looking at me with an air of expectation. But really, Quinn is just so very distracting, and I was not at all expecting to feel so very powerless under the weight of his attention. Almost like it has a biomass all of its own. Ooh, look at me using science in what is quite probably the completely wrong way.
Millie Bourke is already waiting for me to vacate my seat, so I pull myself to a set of very shaky feet, thrust my gear into my backpack and try very hard to remind myself I am basically an elite athlete as I step towards the front row and the boy watching my every move.
Quinn Dayton is even more breathtaking up close and personal, and I suck in a shaky breath of air as I come to a standstill beside him. He’s watching me with those amused blue eyes. From this close I can see he has really long eyelashes and they are as dark and thick as his hair, and I really don’t think I should be noticing them or fixating on them quite as much as I am.
