As embarrassing as it is to admit, I don't have many friends in this class. Well, I don’t have many friends in general. It’s always just been me, Wren, and Kennedy since we were kids and I like it that way. I’ve always been fine with solitude. I’ve had to be, growing up with all brothers and feeling like the odd one out.
People either don’t care about my existence or hate me because they think I've got everything handed to me, which couldn’t be further from the truth. I worked hard for my spot at North University, and I’ve never once taken that for granted. I've accepted the way I'm going to be perceived and I'm fine with it. But it stings that I have to sit here and play the“I hate you so much that it makes me sick”game with Branson while everyone else can laugh and talk with their friends.
That's why it sucks when I swear I hear Anderson introduce a new project for this year. I raise my hand, almost knocking over my water bottle in the process.This can’t be happening.
“Yes, Scarlett?”
“Uh, sorry, but could you repeat that? I think I just missed the end of that,” I say nervously as slowly, one by one, people in the rows below me turn towards me, snickering. I swear it’s like high school all over again. I sit up straighter, pushing my dark brown hair over my shoulder, feigning confidence.
“I’ve been talking for the last hour, but you only missed the end of it?” Anderson asks. I shrug. “You need to start paying more attention. I want to do something a little different to incorporate productivity and fun for this year. So, I’d like everyone to pair up with someone else in the class and I want you to create a hypothetical business. It can be anything from clothing to food, to an app; I’m not fussed. As long as you can present to me a project by the end of the school year on how you would market your business, your target audience, and the realistic ways you would build it from the ground up. It might come more naturally to some more than others, but the whole point is for this to be some fun before we…”
That’s about where I start to drone him out.
I’m confident in all the ways that matter, but not with talking to people my own age, especially those that make it no secret that they don’t like me. I’ve always found it hard to make friends, but the friends that I do have, I hold them dear to my heart and I appreciate them more than anything. It’s the making of them that sucks the most and is the hardest.
The sound of Evan’s annoying voice draws me back to the class. “Do we get to choose our own partners?” Anderson nods and the strangest thing happens: Evan turns back to me, looks me dead in the eye and he smiles. Not a sweet, genuine smile, but one that holds mischief. Danger.
No.No.
He wouldn’t.
Oh, but he would. He’d do it just to torture me.
I raise my hand this time. “Can we also reject offers of partnership?”
Anderson sighs, pushing his glasses up his head. “I don’t care. As long as you come to me with a project before summer break, then it’s fine.”
With that, everyone in the class rushes around, yelling and finding their partners and I sit there, hoping that someone will be left without a partner and lead me to pair up with them. I don’t think I could handle the rejection right now if I tried to ask someone.
When my row has cleared, people partnering in different sides of the lecture theatre, Evan turns back around, leaning on the table behind him with a lazy smile hanging off his lips.
“Then there were two,” he drawls.
I roll my eyes. “There’s one: you. I would rather drop out of this class than work with you for the next few months.”
“We’re really carrying this on, huh?” Evan says, chuckling low. I’m glad he finds this so amusing because I cannot work with him. “Our housemates are dating, the least we can do is be civil with each other.”
“Thisisme being civil,” I retort. He raises his eyebrows at me, tilting his head.
“Really? ‘Cause it looks like you're ready to gauge my eyes out.”
“Listen, Branson, this is not going to work out.”
“Why not?” he asks, scratching his eyebrow, not taking his eyes off me as if he can see right through me. “It’s not like people are exactly lining up to work with us.”
I pin my arms across my chest, suddenly feeling defensive. I know he doesn’t have many friends in this class either, but admitting it aloud, watching everyone else being paired up, makes it seem more real.
“What’s in it for you?” I ask.
“You're the smartest person in here, second to me, and I could do with some extra credits. It turns out that going on vacation during the semester isn't always the smartest idea,” he admits. Of course, he believes he’s the smartest person in every room he walks into.
I try to mull over the idea. In reality, it could work, but that would mean having to speak to him nearly every day and interact with him when I don’t need to. It also means putting up with more competition than usual, purposefully letting him get under my skin.
“Just being in your presence gives me a headache,” I mutter, rubbing at my temples for extra effect. It can’t be a coincidence that since I’ve seen him and his snobbish self, my head has started to hurt.
“Oh, ‘cause you’re such a delight, aren’t you, Angel?” My body automatically shivers, and he smirks when he watches the way I squirm. “Believe me, I don't want to do this as much as you do. I need the grade and you're my best shot at getting it. Are we clear?”
I roll my neck before nodding, adding, “Fine.”
