I’d tried faking it once, only to see how far the relationship could go, and if anything would develop, but nothing. Love was nothing more than a myth, something produced by major corporations to increase profit. According todictionary.com, the verb definition of love means to love someone and be affectionate. The definition of affectionate means to love. Case in point.
Proving my theory once in a high school project, I surveyed fifty people on what love meant to them. Fifty different people, fifty different answers. No one could give me a clear explanation, and what happened when something couldn’t be proven? The results were inconclusive.
I believed in chemistry and comfort. You felt comfort and ease around someone, so you didn’t mind being around them all the time—hence, my father and Diane. My father found some sort of comfort in Diane, more than being alone, so he married her. Chemistry attracts two people together, comfort makes them stay. Simple explanation. Whatdictionary.comshould have said was:
love (verb)
/l?v/
the perfect combination of chemistry and comfort
I sat at my usual table during breakfast and played with my wet eggs as the crew from last night made their way into the mess hall toward their table. Jake waved me over, but I turned away. I’ve had enough of them over the last twenty-four hours.
Soon after, Ollie pulled out a chair and took a seat before finding me across the room. In a matter of seconds, he managed to remind me of our moment from last night, and I bit the inside of my cheek to fight off the tightness in my chest. He offered me a sleepy, lopsided smile, and I averted my eyes.
Chemistry was the damn devil.
The bell rang. I stood in a hurry, grabbed my tray, and left the mess hall before anyone else, walking at a much faster pace than I should have been this early in the morning. The last thing I wanted was for Jake to catch up to me, or anyone else from last night. As soon as I turned the corner down the left wing, I was pulled by the arm from the corridor and through a door.
Face to face with familiar green eyes, I backed against the wall. The room was dark aside from a hint of the morning sun’s rays coming through the window. Ollie leaned over me and rested each palm against the wall beside me. The smell of mint became a passenger between us as he licked his lips. His gum switched from one side of his mouth to the other before my eyes lifted to his. “I can’t stop thinking about last night,” he admitted. “This morning I woke up sober, and still feel a part of me is missing.”
I opened my mouth, and when nothing came out, I closed it again. Ollie was breathing hard. I was breathing hard. His chest rose and fell with every breath. I couldn’t break away from his stare.
“You said it would pass, but it didn’t. And then in the mess hall, you can’t even look at me … but I want to be seen by you, Mia.” His eyes scanned my face. “I really like it.”
“You like being looked at?”Finally, words.I was able to speak.
He raised a brow. “It does feed my narcissism, but it’s different with you.” He lifted a hand off the wall. “Even though you claim this to be so dangerous.”
I straightened my posture when he took a step back. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”
His face was unreadable, and with my books clutched to my chest, I pushed passed him and walked out the door. He remembered every detail of last night—the confessing of my rules and the dangers of crossing the line—then had the nerve to use it against me. He was playing with fire, and in the end, he would get burned.
As I walked into Latin, I had come to the conclusion they were all crazy. People like Bria and Ollie walked around with rules they couldn’t live up to, like “no hurt feelings,” and I should have known better. Whatever happened in Ollie’s dorm would never stay in Ollie’s dorm, but at least I was the one who couldn’t get hurt. I had decided to have my fun with them, and when everything came crashing down, it would be me laughing in the end.
I took a seat beside Liam. He was a year younger than me, and a complete asshole, but I enjoyed every second of it. With blond hair pulled back into a man bun, and full lips, I could see why the girls surrounded him. He was like me in a lot of ways. Perhaps the reason I stuck to him on Tuesdays and Thursdays.
We walked together to lunch, but I refused to sit with him and his friends. His group was something my old self would typically be drawn to, and a part of me did want to change. I kept telling myself I didn’t care whether or not I ended up in a mental institution, but I knew somewhere deep down, I didn’t want to go there, and if I fell into the arms of Liam’s group, I would never make it out of here alive.
“What are your plans tomorrow?” Liam asked as we stood in the lunch line.
“I don’t know … homework, I guess. What else is there to do on Fridays?”
Liam put his arm around my shoulder and turned me toward the students in the mess hall.
He pointed over to the jocks, all of them with muscles bulging from their Dolor shirts and punching each other in the shoulder. “Every Friday, they have a game of football in the yard.” He turned my attention to the group of girls at the table beside them. Gwen was the only one I knew by name. She flipped her short blonde hair as she talked into another girl’s ear. Liam continued, “The girls sit off to the side and watch as they bat their pretty eyes.” His fingers landed on a table seating six thugs. “Poker in the courtyard, 10 quid buy-in.” And, finally, he pointed toward Ollie. Ollie clenched his jaw as Liam leaned into my ear. “They take off to the woods and … no one really knows what the fuck they do. They’re all rubbish.”
“What about you?” I asked, turning my attention away from Ollie’s tense position.
Liam smirked and pulled me to his side. “Meet us after breakfast in the morning and have a gander, yeah?”
His choice of words made me smile. “I’ll think about it.”
After eating the horrible cheese sandwich at my table, I pulledTo Kill a Mockingbirdfrom my stack of books and read, keeping my attention away from Ollie at all costs, and not giving in to his narcissistic behavior.
“Mia, you’re late,” Dr. Conway stated and flicked her eyes over to the clock on the wall behind the couch.
After taking a seat on the sunken brown leather, I handed her the book. “I finished the book. It sucked. What was the point in wasting my time?”
