I tried to get myself back into the flow, but I couldn’t manage it. I kept thinking about Cynthia’s idea. A small vacation. A break. Just taking off and getting away from everything for a while.
Just as half-formed plans started to fill my head, I could feel someone else nearby. I turned and looked up.
There he was. Riot. Leather jacket and all. I thought of the last time we were together. His secret spot, and all of the nice things he said to me. I’d been touched by how much of himself he’d given me. Even if it was a slow trickle, it felt like a waterfall in comparison to what he showed the rest of the world.
“Hey,” he said simply.
“Hi,” I replied, trying not to beam like a smitten schoolgirl. “Are you here to study?”
He nodded and set his bag down on the desk. He took a seat, pulled out a battered looking notebook, and started writing. No half-smiles or teasing. He really was here to work.
I looked back to my books, trying to sink back into the flow of things again. I tried not to think about what it might look like if people saw both of us together in public. A cursory glance around the room told me everyone had their heads down, minding their business, engrossed in their own books. I relaxed and sank into my chair, concentrating on my studies.
For a while it seemed to work. It was peaceful. It might have been the most peaceful time I’d experienced at this place in a while. No stress, no pressure. Just me and Riot, studying side by side, separate but together.
Before I knew it, I had my notes all written up and ready to go. I needed to ask Riot to sit with me more often during study time. I looked over at him to see if he was still at it.
For most of the time we’d sat together, he had been scribbling furiously in the pages of his notebook. Now he was staring, writing a line here or there, but mostly seemed to be lost in thought.
I placed my hand on his knee, trying to be reassuring.
“Hey,” I said quietly.
Riot looked up from his notebook. His dark eyes were intense, but the small quirk at the corner of his lips softened them.
“Hey,” he replied. “You doing okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said.
“Just fine?”
“There’s just a lot of classwork and studying to do.”
Riot stared at me intently.
“Just classwork?” he said. “Nothing else?”
“Well,” I hedged, not wanting to get into it when Riot was in the middle of his own work.
“There’s the ball,” Riot said. “The rumors. The blackmailer.” He said the last words in a raspy whisper. “So it’s not just classwork. Is it?”
I stared back at him, searching his face. It were open, sincere. He was here for me. I could see it in his eyes.
“It is the ball. And the rumors. And the… other thing,” I said quickly, not wanting to think about it. “But right now it’s mostly the usual stuff. Classes, schoolwork, grades. I have an exam, and I’m worried I might not do well.”
“Your grades are perfect,” he said. “What’s the problem?”
“I just worry that maybe, under all of the stress, I might start to slip. I’ve been thinking a lot about disappointment, letting down everyone close to me.”
“You won’t slip,” he said confidently. “You’re going to kick ass on that exam. You’re going to continue being at the top of your class. You’re going to make everyone proud, including your parents. Including me.”
My cheeks flushed, not used to that kind of praise.
“I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say at once,” I said, deflecting.
“You said you liked me verbose. I’m trying something out.”
“I like it,” I said, squeezing his knee.
