A small blush makes its way to her cheeks, and she slowly walks up the stairs to her seat.
“Hey, Finch,” I say softly, treading lightly after yesterday.
“Hey.” She gives me a small smile as I pull out her chair for her.
After the information I just found out, I can’t help but stare at her, my heart hurting for her. I can’t say I completely understand her situation—I don’t feel guilty for constantly rejecting Adrianna. It’s her fault that she can’t accept the fact that I’ll never be with her in the way that she wants. But Olivia is too sweet to have someone treat her that way and make her feel so guilty. That’s why I have to seriously restrain myself when Rat Boy walks in.
The lecture goes by with a breeze, but I can tell something is wrong with Olivia. I can sense her gloomy mood. And it’s not just the lingering tension from yesterday.
When our professor dismisses class and we all begin to pack up, Delilah speaks up. “Hey, Liv, you’re still willing to tutor people, right?” she asks, shooting me a secretive glance.
“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Who needs help?” Olivia asks, looking up from shoving her binder into her backpack.
“Oh, just someone I know. I’m not totally sure if they’re set on a tutor yet, but I’ll let you know,” Delilah says, flashing me another discreet look.
“Yeah, just let me know,” Olivia says, slinging her backpack on. I can see it in her eyes that something is bugging her; her voice is a bit dejected as well.
We all walk out of the lecture hall together, and eventually Delilah and Rat Boy have to veer off to their next class. Olivia and I walk together in silence, and I glance at her frequently, able to tell she’s mulling over something in that pretty little head of hers.
“Hey.” I gently grab her elbow, stopping my stride. She spins around to face me. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she states, giving me an unconvincing smile.
“Finch,” I begin.
“No, really, I’m fine,” she says all too quickly, refusing to meet my gaze.
I sigh and silence floats between us.
A warm breeze passes, causing the tendrils of hair framing her face to wisp across her cheek. Without thinking, I reach up to tuck them behind her ear. It’s then those big, vulnerable eyes peer up at me, nearly knocking the air out of my lungs.
“I wish you would tell me what’s wrong,” I whisper honestly, swiping my thumb across her cheek.
Surprisingly, she leans into my touch. Her eyes flutter closed for a moment as she slowly exhales through her nose. Those warm honey eyes open, the sun hitting them just right.
“It’s just been a really rough day,” she admits, voice tired. “The lab assistants didn’t wash the test tubes so I couldn’t do the original lesson I’d planned for today, leaving me to scramble to come up with a new plan. Then I’m teaching all freshmen who are still so immature. One kid started playing with the Bunsen burner and nearly set the lab on fire,” she says, getting more and more worked up with every word that passes her lips.
She presses her fingers to her eyes, clearly overwhelmed.
“Hey,” I coo, immediately wrapping my arms around her and pulling her into my chest. I run my hand up and down her back in a soothing manner, wishing there was something I could do, something I could say, to make her feel better.
I rest my chin on top of her head, just holding her close, loving the feel of her in my arms.
“Want me to beat that kid’s ass?” I ask in all seriousness, and I feel her shoulders shake.
I immediately think she’s crying, and pull away to assess her. When I finally see her face, I realize she’s laughing.
“No,” she says, through a string of silent giggles, her eyes sad but shining with appreciation and hilarity. “Thank you, though.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, running my hands up and down her arms. “I have a whole football team behind me to take care of the little shit for you.”
She holds back a laugh. “If I ever need your assistance, I’ll let you know,” she assures me, and I can’t help but smile at the light coming back to her eyes.
“Come with me,” I say, grabbing her hand and linking our fingers together.
Her footsteps are hesitant at first, but eventually her stride matches mine. “Bronx, where are we going?” she asks, slightly gawking down at our joined hands.
“You’ll see,” I say, leading her across campus.
