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I took one last look at Luca, who kept his focus on the desk in front of him like he hadn’t seen a thing. Even their own were getting tired of their antics. Or maybe he was just playing dumb. It was hard to tell.
Regardless, there were plenty of others who could step in and take their place in picking on the nerd, so I kept my head down and said nothing. Trying to blend in had pretty much been my MO since junior high when all the other boys shot up and towered over me while I remained short and skinny. It wasn’t until my sophomore year that I finally grew pit hair and had a pubescent growth spurt, but by then, it was too late. My social status had already been blown from here to the galaxy GN-z11, which for those who are counting, is about 13.4 billion lightyears from Earth. That’s 134 nonillion kilometers.
Yes, nonillion really is a number. No, I’m not making it up.
I squared my shoulders and ignored JT, a knee-jerk reaction to his taunting that came naturally after years of practice.
From the front of the class, Mr. Gray, our chemistry teacher, cleared his throat, and when I shifted my gaze to him, it was like a punch of fate straight to the solar plexus. Ella Randalls stood by his side. Long golden waves framed a heart-shaped face with whisky eyes and glossy pink lips. And when those Jonny Walker’s met mine, my heart collided with my ribs. There I was, preparing to seek her out today and make my first move, and here she stood directly in front of me.
She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
“Class, I know we’re a week into the semester, but we have an extra student joining us permanently due to some unforeseen schedule changes.”
“Welcome to hell,” JT hollered from the back.
“Knock it off,” Mr. Gray warned, and I wanted to roll my eyes. JT wouldn’t “knock it off,” and Mr. Gray wouldn’t do anything about it. The teachers at Lakeview Prep seemed to be particularly adept at ignoring the antics of the Royal Party. Why did he even bother wasting his breath?
Mr. Gray focused behind him at the whiteboard where he began to write down today’s lab.
“Yesterday, we talked about ion and redox reactions. So, in today’s lab, you’re going to test it.” He prompted Ella. “Take a seat. Someone pair up with Ella for lab, will you?” As Ella started forward, he added, “You have the next thirty minutes, so get started. Lab sheets are on page one hundred three of your workbooks.”
Voices grew around me as everyone started chatting with their partners. Me? I opened my lab workbook to the proper page, preparing to gather the tools I’d need to do the experiment myself. No one ever asked me to be their partner, and I didn’t bother joining another group. There were an odd number of students, and besides, I knew myself well enough to know no matter who I partnered with, I’d wind up doing the brunt of the work.
As I flipped to the proper page, I made a mental note to muster the courage to speak with Ella after class. If I passed on this opportunity and Thorne found out, he’d kill me.
Beside me, someone cleared their throat, and I glanced over to see her standing there, as if my thoughts alone had conjured her presence. She peered down at me, her gaze expectant as she asked, “Would you mind being my partner?”
I gaped, nearly falling out of my chair onto the freshly waxed floor. Never in a million years would it have occurred to me she might actually chooseme.
I pointed a finger to my chest just to make sure I understood correctly, and when she nodded, I straightened in my chair and kept my cool, like it was no big deal. Like girls stood in line, asking me to work with them every day. “Yeah, sure,” I said, heart pumping. “Do you have a workbook?” I asked at the same time she procured one from her bag.
“Yep. And just between you and me,” she leaned in close and whispered, “I did this experiment last week in the AP class, so it’ll be a piece of cake.”
A whiff of her perfume wafted toward me. It smelled like sunshine and the freesia my mother bought at the local farmer’s market–the scent of summer. I wanted to swim in it and drown. But olfactory senses were a tricky thing, so I closed my eyes to gather my wits. I’d spoken to her all of thirty seconds—go me!—and I was already losing my mind.See?!Thiswas one of the many reasons I had zero chill. “You were in the AP class?” I asked.
She nodded but said nothing, and I fought the urge to ask her why she switched classes. Part of me wondered if the AP class was too hard. “Uh, okay, then,” I said instead. “Why don’t we go get everything we need?”
She smiled and followed me to the back of the room, where together, we grabbed a plastic bin and filled it with all the required supplies–four different metals, water, squeeze bottle, and sandpaper. “I like your shirt, by the way.” Her gaze shifted pointedly to my t-shirt, the one with the diagram of an atom on it and the joke,Never trust an atom. We make up everything.
I glanced down and pinched the soft cotton, eyes wide. “Uh, thanks,” I said, like I’d never received a compliment before. And, well, other than ones from my mother (those didn’t count), I probably hadn’t.
As we headed back to our seats, I watched Ella as she walked. She pushed her shoulders back, chin lifted with an air of confidence I’d only ever seen from one group of people before–the Royals. Heads turned as she passed. Even Luca and JT’s gazes lingered on her back, along with my own. It was a miracle they hadn’t snatched her up as a member of their posse. However, I was so thankful they hadn’t because she was already out of my league. But if she were a Royal, she’d be in a whole different stratosphere.
Once we returned to our seats, Mr. Gray set a white lab coat on the table for Ella, along with a new pair of goggles, and told her to keep them for the semester before we began working.
Almost immediately, Ella took over. She grabbed the pieces of metal and the sandpaper and began scrubbing off the oxidized coating while I sat there, watching on, feeling a little out of sorts not to be the one doing the work, yet wholly impressed.
I blinked over at her in awe while her delicate hands worked. I’d never given much thought before to what my dream girl would be like. Maybe because I knew I had the game of a potato, but if I ever would have imagined what she’d be like, she’d be Ella Randalls, one hundred percent. And today of all days, when I’d already vowed to talk to her, she landed in my classroom and chosemeas her partner. What were the odds? It seemed more than surreal. Yet here we were.
“So, what made you transfer chem classes?” I asked, and it was probably the most words I’ve spoken to a girl (besides my newfound friends Penelope and Scarlett) this whole year.
Ella finished the last bit of metal and glanced over at me. Up this close, I could see tiny flecks of gold in her eyes. They warmed to amber as she shrugged. “I wanted to take AP Psychology instead, so when a spot opened up, I jumped on it.”
“Why psych?”
“I’m going to Columbia in the fall for psychology, and all they had to do was rearrange my schedule, so it all worked out.”
“Wow,” I blurted, then immediately regretted it.
