“Olivia?” I hear JC’s voice pipe up, and look down the table a few seats to see him leaning in, looking at me. “Did you say Olivia McCausland?”
“Yeah,” I say slowly.
A wide, fond grin spreads across his face. “Dude, Olivia’s awesome! I had her as my physics lab partner last year, and she’s so fucking smart. Get this, the TA for that lab was a total dick. He made the lab way harder than necessary, but Olivia breezed right through it. She didn’t let me slack off either. Just when I thought she’d be the type to do all the work and ask me to stay the hell out of her way, she actually sat there and explained the material to me by having me help her. She probably taught me more than the TA and teacher combined.
“And back to the TA being a dick. Even after she would sit there and walk me through it, explaining everything, we’d still end up getting the lab done way before everyone else, but the TA wouldn’t let us leave until another group finished. Even after he checked our workandinterrogated me about the material—which I actually understood thanks to her—he wouldn’t let us leave early. So to pass the time, Olivia calculated how much force it would take for both me and her to bust through the window and jump out.” He laughs, shaking his head. “She’s the best. You’re lucky, bro.”
I feel a smile tug at my lips. I already knew she was brains and beauty, but this just makes me even more excited for lab.
After lunch, I walk across campus to the language arts building for my English class. On my walk over, just ahead of me, I spot a powder-blue backpack and long caramel-colored hair pulled over a white T-shirt clad shoulder.
“Olivia!” I call, jogging to close the distance between us.
She looks over her shoulder, some wisps of hair flying in front of her face in the hot summer breeze. She tucks the strands behind her ear, smiling when she spots me and slowing her stride to let me catch up.
“Hey,” she greets me when I finally reach her.
“Hey, where are you headed?” I ask, falling into step with her.
She pulls the textbook she’s holding away from her chest, flashing me the cover. “English.”
“Me too,” I say, feeling hopeful as we reach the old cobblestone building. I hold the door open for her. “What teacher do you have?”
“Professor Hobb.”
That name sounds familiar. I pull my phone out of my pocket, double-checking my class schedule to see that I’m in fact also heading to Professor Hobb’s class. “Room 112, right?”
She grins, rounding the corner that leads to room 112. “Right.”
“Looks like we have another class together,” I gloat, following her into a small room that seats about twenty-five people.
She walks to the far side of the class and slips into a desk three rows back. I take the desk right next to her.
“I guess this means we’ll be seeing each other every day,” she notes, bending over to reach into her backpack, which is propped against the back leg of the desk chair. She pulls out a white notebook and a pencil, setting them on top of the textbook in front of her.
I think about it for a moment before realizing she’s right. Our English class is Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, while our anatomy class is Tuesday and Thursday, with the lab on Wednesday. “I guess so.” I smile, feeling excited that I get to see her more than once a week.
Suddenly, I feel a presence to my right. I look over to see a girl standing next to my desk, staring at me while tightly clutching her books.
“Um, hi,” I acknowledge her, not recognizing her whatsoever.
Her eyes narrow and she quickly turns on her heel, scurrying to sit in a desk at the back of the room with a huff.
I stare at her for a moment before slowly turning back to Olivia, baffled. “Okay, I have no clue what all that was about.”
Olivia bites her bottom lip, trying to suppress a giggle. “I think you stole her seat,” she whispers.
“I stole her seat?” I look down at the top of the desk, as if it’ll have the girl’s name carved into it. “Were we assigned seats?”
She shakes her head. “No.”
“Okay, then, at least now I don’t feel like a complete dick.” I chuckle. “From her reaction you would’ve thought I committed first-degree murder. Do you know her?”
That earns me a small laugh. “I believe her name is Lacy. She was the president of the chemistry club for a semester, and she can be a little intense at times,” Olivia admits with a slight cringe.
“I believe it,” I mutter, just as the teacher walks in.
Professor Hobb’s heeled clogs click against the tiled floor, and her black flowy pants with a wildflower print swish around her ankles as she gets ready at the front of the classroom. She’s in a long-sleeve V-neck shirt and her gray hair is tied up into a bun.
