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"And Greg," I began, my voice surprisingly steady, "dating Tresa is a recipe for heartache."
His brow furrowed, and he bit his lip, a telltale sign of his internal struggle. "Why do you say that?" he asked, his voice laced with defiance and a touch of vulnerability.
"Because Tresa doesn't have eyes for anyone but Dax," I explained, my voice soft but firm. "She's playing a game, and you're just another pawn in her twisted chess match."
His shoulders slumped, and the bravado melted away from his eyes. He looked like a wounded puppy, his hope flickering like a candle in a hurricane. The sight of it tugged at a hidden chord within me, a sympathy for his misguided affections.
"I don't care," he mumbled, his voice barely a whisper. "All I want is for her to see me. To choose me."
He looked so lost, so desperate, that it squeezed my heart. In that moment, I understood the appeal of chasing an impossible dream, the allure of clinging to a sliver of hope even when it threatened to cut your fingers.
My mouth twisted into a wry smile, bitterness clinging to the edges. "Well, Greg, let's just say Tresa's brand of sunshine comes with a platinum price tag. Think bottomless brunches, designer handbags, and weekend getaways to Ibiza. You sure you've got the runway for that kind of flight?"
His jaw clenched, a flicker of defensiveness crossing his features. "Of course I have money! Don't think I'm some pauper."
"I never said that," I shot back, my voice laced with a hint of amusement. "But I wouldn't want you to end up singing the broke blues after a whirlwind romance with Her Majesty, Queen Tresa."
He narrowed his eyes. "Why are you even telling me this, Skye?"
I shrugged, a playful glint in my eyes. "Just a friendly heads-up. Call it a bonus chapter to your crash course in Tresa 101."
"From a friend or a stranger?" he retorted, his voice edged with a reminder of our earlier awkward exchange.
"Both, maybe?" I replied, my smile widening. "I'm a walking contradiction, remember?"
His cheeks flushed, and a grudging chuckle escaped his lips. "Alright, alright, I get it. No need to rub it in."
I held up my hands in mock surrender. "But seriously, Greg, don't expect her to be a fan of your Einstein impersonations. Save the E=mc² for the lab, not the date."
He furrowed his brow, a hint of hurt flashing across his eyes. "Why does everyone keep telling me that?"
The air crackled between us, thick with the unspoken tension and the sting of my thoughtless outburst. "Weird nerd" hung in the air, a clumsy pebble I'd thrown and regretted catching.
Greg's retort, echoing my words with a playful twist, defused the moment a little. I couldn't help but grin, a genuine one this time. "I'll wear that label like a badge of honor," I declared, my voice laced with self-deprecating humor.
He chuckled, the sound rolling like warm honey in the awkward silence. "Alright then, Commander Bookworm," he mock-saluted, "I guess I'll heed your sage advice."
"Strangely," I added, the chuckle bubbling up again. We were an unlikely pair, this awkward science geek and the girl with her nose perpetually buried in a book, but somehow, our banter fit like puzzle pieces.
The silence returned, but this time, it felt less charged, more comfortable. The project, a looming specter in the corner, finally broke the peace.
"So," he began, the question hovering between us like a dandelion seed in the wind, "history project? When do we tackle that beast?"
My throat tightened. The idea of working alone had been a tempting escape hatch, a way to avoid the inevitable awkwardness of group collaboration. But the truth was, the thought of being solely responsible for the project, the fear of failure, gnawed at me.
"I, uh..." I stammered, the words catching in my throat like rogue commas. "I usually work alone," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper.
Greg's brow furrowed, but his eyes held no judgment, just a flicker of curiosity. "Why?" he asked, his voice gentle.
"Because I prefer to work alone!" I repeated.
"It's a group project, though."
"I know it's a group project, but I can do this without having to see my group members!" I said, even though the thought of it bothered me.
A smile touched his lips. "I highly doubt that," he said, his voice filled with a quiet confidence that surprised me. "And besides, Dax and Tresa? They're probably still lost in their own little galaxy. It'll just be you and me, Commander."
"I'm not even surprised about Tresa's laziness," I sighed, leaning back against the wall. "And honestly, I think the only reason she agreed to go out with you is because she wants you to help her with the history project too."
