Heartache and Hope (Heartache Duet #1)(7)

So, with that said, it’s no real surprise that my experience with those of the opposite sex is limited to a few make-out sessions at post-win celebrations. I’d never been in a relationship. Never even dated. And so the aggressiveness of the attention I was suddenly getting was intimidating, to say the least, and uncomfortable as hell. Especially when it’s constant. Like this girl, Karen, who’s somehow managed to find me at my locker every single morning. There’s no doubt she’s cute, in the kind of way that money can buy attractiveness. Perfect make-up to go with her perfect skin and perfect hair and perfect attitude. And I’m sure she’s perfect for a guy who’s just as perfect for her. But for me? I’m not interested in her, at least not in that way, and I sure as hell don’t have the time to try to match that level of perfection. Or the time at all… just ask my dad.

Monday morning. First period. Psychology. And guess who’s in my class?

Karen.

Karen… who’s currently staring at me from across the room. Or maybe she’s looking at the girl next to me; Ava—whose name I worked out through other people because she still won’t talk to me even though she sits next to me every psych class.

She’s a goddamn enigma.

I’ve never seen her outside of this class, not even in the cafeteria. Not that I’ve been looking. Lie. Unless she’s conspicuously making a grab for her phone under the desk, she shows no other signs of life. It’s as if she lives in a bubble, and everyone accepts that.

Sometimes, sitting next to her like we are, I wonder what it would be like to burst that bubble.

“One thing I forgot to mention—” Mr. McCallister’s voice booms, pulling me from my thoughts, “the nature versus nurture paper you’re all going to submit will be done in pairs. You have three seconds to choose your partners.”

Across the room, Karen’s eyes widen and zone in on me. Chairs scrape, students move, and panic fills my bloodline. Instantly—stupidly—I reach for Ava’s arm at the same time she stands. Not a second later, Karen’s in front of us, her gaze switching from me to Ava to my hand on Ava’s arm. Ava’s wide-eyed as she looks up at me, then at Karen, then to our touch. Behind me, a throat clears. It’s Rhys, and he’s looking at all three of us with unmasked confusion.

“Ava,” Karen says, motioning to me. Ava’s shoulders rise with her intake of breath, and she pulls her arm from my grasp. My eyes drift shut, embarrassment heating my cheeks. What the hell was I thinking?

“Ava?” Karen repeats. Firmer. Stronger. There’s a hidden question there, one I can’t decipher.

Rhys asks, “You good, A?” It’s the first time I’ve heard a student speak to Ava this way, as if they care, and I sure as shit didn’t expect it from him.

Ava swallows, nervous, her eyes flitting to mine quickly before moving away. “I’d rather work with Rhys,” she says, so quiet I barely hear her. But I do, and there’s a sudden knot in my gut, a flashback to my past. Awkward, anxious, loner. I bite my tongue, physically and metaphorically, and try to push down my insecurities. I feel like I’m being judged, and it sucks that the one person in the entire school who’s paid absolutely no attention to me in the past is the one doing the judging.

“Groups of two, not four,” the teacher yells, waving a hand toward us. “And since none of you can take basic direction, I’ll make the choice for you. Ava and Connor. Rhys and Karen.”

Rhys curses under his breath, his lips pressed tight as he eyes Ava. “You going to be okay?”

“Jesus Christ,” I murmur. “Way to make a guy feel good.”

I watch Ava for a response, but I don’t get one. At least not to me. Rhys does, though, in the form of a painstakingly slow nod from her.

In front of me, Karen stomps her foot, spins and walks back to her seat, Rhys following after her.

I turn to the girl next to me, my insecurities switching to annoyance. “I’m not stupid.”

Her gaze locks on mine, her head shaking slowly. “I’m sor—”

I interrupt because I don’t need her sympathy. “No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry to disappoint you before you even get to know me.” I take a breath, try to regain some composure. “I’m not stupid,” I repeat, calmer. “Just because I’m new and I’m here on an athletic scholarship doesn’t mean I’m a dumbass. I’ll work just as hard as you, if not more, because I have something to prove. I don’t expect you to carry the weight if that’s what you’re thinking.” I keep my eyes trained on her, watching the confusion settle across her face.

“It’s Connor, right?”

“Yeah…?”

“Let’s just get this clear, Connor.” She spits my name. “I have no assumptions about you at all because I haven’t thought of you once. Not even for a second. And I don’t care enough about you to judge you. So, let’s just get to work.” She slaps a sheet of paper between us and scrawls my name and hers across the top, then glares up at me. Daggers upon daggers. “Do you think it’s nature or nurture that has you believing that your woe-is-me attitude isn’t just another form of self-entitlement?”

My head spins, but I can’t come up with a retort. Not even a decent response. All this time I spent wondering what it would be like to burst her bubble, and now here she was… completely obliterating mine.