On a brighter note, I got to introduce Winter to Morgan at lunch. They got along wonderfully, as I expected they would. Zoey isn’t at school today. She said she’s sick. Translation: she’s swiping on Tinder and maxing out her mom’s credit card online shopping.
Morgan and I stop by our table to drop our things. I greet Luke, who’s already seated and getting a head start on his project. We were assigned the same table at the beginning of the year. Bianca Reed’s supposed to fill seat number four, but she’s never here. The girl ditches this class almost as much as she hooks up and gets her heart bulldozered by Haze.
My art teacher tells us we’re continuing last week’s project, but the class doesn’t pay him much mind. We’ve been at this for a month. Word trees is what we call it. Consists of painting trees, finding words that resonate with us, and gluing them on where leaves should be. I don’t speak art, obviously, but I do speak honesty and the truth is that mine looks like shit.
Morgan and I stroll to the front of the class to collect our projects off the teacher’s desk. Morgan is quick to shuffle through the pile, find her tree, and saunter back to her seat.
By the time I manage to push my way through the students, there are only a few projects left. I grab my piece-of-crap project, intending to walk away, but the tree beneath mine roots me in place.
It’s not exceptionally beautiful. In fact, it almost looks… dead? No, what really stands out is the message it holds. The pain radiating from it. My eyes sweep over the words cut out from magazine pages and clumsily glued on.
What if,
Forgive,
Never,
Damn, this guy’s life does not sound easy.
“Enjoying my talents?”
I jerk in surprise and whip around, expecting to find one of the loners of the class staring back at me, but the person I see instead… is the well-liked guy who always wears a smile.
Will.
I forgot I shared this class with him.
I blink at him. “Wait, that’s yours?”
Only then do I realize I’m holding his project. Picked it up for a better look. He must think I’m a weirdo.
He arches an eyebrow. “Might be. Why? That so hard to believe?”
“It’s just so…”
Sad.
“I know. Picasso ain’t got shit on me,” he teases, swiping his project out of my hands and setting off for his table.
Except that his table isn’t his.
It’s mine.
Morgan’s just as confused as I am when Will plops down in Bianca’s seat without a care. I follow, sitting across from him. He notices our perplexed expressions and huffs a laugh.
“Teacher didn’t tell you? I’m a ‘nuisance’ when I sit with Alex. I’m at your table now. Surprise.”
Morgan and I exchange sideways looks.
“What’s wrong, control freak?” His eyes lift to mine. “Are you not happy to see me?”
My cheeks heat up on cue.
What the fuck, Kass?
“About damn time they sent another guy here,” Luke says, and he and Will start up a conversation.
My mind returns to his tree.
I would’ve expected his words to be downright stupid. I mean, that’s Will, the guy who once got so drunk at my brother’s birthday he sang “Hello” by Adele to every guest he saw for three hours straight. He’s the guy initiating “how many hot Cheetos can I put into my mouth without puking” competitions with my brother.
Will is not a tortured soul.
Or deep.
Will is Will, end of story.
Kicking unwelcomed thoughts out of my brain, I focus on my own tree. I swear the harder I try, the uglier it gets.
“Did you get an interview yet?” Morgan asks ten minutes in.
I sigh. “None. And my car’s getting worse. I almost gave a granny a heart attack this morning.”
Morgan chortles. “You’ll find a job. Stop stressing.”
Luke’s head jerks up.
“Sorry. Did you just say you were looking for a job?”
“Yeah,” I admit. “But every business in the world is conspiring against me, apparently.”
He laughs. “Your timing is insane. My aunt owns a pet store downtown, and she’s kind of desperate.”
At first, I’m ecstatic.
Until…
“Got any experience in retail?”
There it is.
“Not really,” I reluctantly admit. “But I want to learn.”
“She’s looking for someone with a bit of experience, but I think she’d be willing to meet with you. Since you’re a friend and all. It’s worth a shot. What do you say?”
I rejoice. “Are you kidding? I’d love that.”
“Great. I’m supposed to see her at family dinner tonight. I’ll talk to her and text you about an interview?”
“That sounds great.” I can barely contain myself.
“Shit.” Luke realizes something. “I can’t text you. You should give me your number.”
“Oh, right. Give me your phone.”
He slides it over to me so I can add my number into his contacts.
“Thanks, Luke. That means a lot.” I hand it back to him.
“Anytime.” He smiles and rises off his stool, retreating to the front of the class to ask the teacher a question.
As soon as he’s out of range, Will scoffs.
“I can’t text you. Give me your number. Seriously? You didn’t catch that? Come on, control freak, oldest trick in the book.”
I frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He looks baffled by my stupidity. “Come on, it’s so obvious the dude’s into you.”
“What? You’re crazy. He’s just being nice.”
Could it be?
Could Luke like me?
I mean, he’s definitely good-looking, but… is he my type? Is any guy my type after what happened with Blake?
“A little help here?” Will begs Morgan.
I turn to my best friend, a confident grin smacked across my face, but the backup I anticipated never comes.
She caves. “Well, it’s not not true.”
“Really, Morg? You too?” I wince.
“It’s just… he’s always so nice to you. Smiling at you in the halls, sparking conversations. I’ve always thought there might be something there.”
Traitor.
“See? Even your friend agrees.” Will gestures to Morgan. “You should give him a chance. He could loosen you up a bit.”
“Excuse me?” I’m offended.
“You know… make you less controlling.”
“I’m not controlling!”
Will wrestles a smile but doesn’t argue, reaching for the glue stick sitting in the center of the table to re-attach a word that keeps falling off his tree.
I can’t help myself.
“Don’t. Use the hot glue. Works a lot better.”
He stops moving, sharp blue eyes finding mine. It takes me a solid second to realize what I just did.
“See?” he smirks. “Controlling.”
“Shut up,” I grumble.
Butthurt, I keep to myself for the rest of the class. Will reports for duty as designated clown and takes it upon himself to make Morgan and Luke laugh until the bell rings. And I don’t mean a “small chuckle”—I mean “I’m choking. Someone help.”