Page 7 of People Like Us

August rambled on for the next hour, highlighting the more important parts as he made me copy each of his color-coded notes. He made sure I followed his ‘foolproof’ organizational system as I went.

After the third time he swatted my hand away from his keyboard when I tried to ask him about a note labeled “Draft One” on his sidebar, I had grown depressingly bored of discussing marine biology.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” I asked abruptly.

August narrowed his eyes at me and answered: “No.”

“Why not?” I frowned.

He only stared at me. “That isn’t going to be on our test tomorrow.” He reminded me, as if I didn’t know Mrs. Deal enjoyed ruining weekends for sport.

“I’m surprised,” I said. “About the girlfriend, not the quiz,” I clarified after his brows knit together.

“Why is that surprising?” His tone carried a hint of mocking as if he somehow knew the answer already.

“Because you’re really handsome.”

Surprise flickered across his face, and I wondered what he was expecting me to say. When it vanished, he suddenly looked about as bored of this conversation as I had been of biology.

“Are you always this standoffish?” I asked.

“Are you always this nosy?” he fired back.

“Yes,” I snapped. “But mostly when I can’t figure out why someone doesn’t like me.”

“Well, for starters, you put trash on my computer this morning,” he said, a bit too harsh.

“It wasn’t trash! It was a pep talk!” I exclaimed.

He looked at me the same way he had when I arrived on Andy’s shoulders earlier. I rolled my eyes and stood to retrieve the bag of cough drops from the front pocket of my bag. When I sat down next to him again, I pulled one of the candies out, unwrapping it. I popped it into my mouth and studied the paper in my hands, debating which text to fold it around.

I found the perfect one and began tucking the corners in. When I was finished I handed the wrapper to August, who looked at it hesitantly.

He took it from me eventually, his warm fingers brushing over mine as he did. He read the text aloud: “Take what you want.”

He stared up at me, no trace of amusement in his features. “How is this meant to be a pep talk?”

I shrugged. “I just think it’s funny.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re all kind of inherently sexual.”

His brows folded inward at that. “So you have the humor of a twelve-year-old boy.”

“Yes,” I agreed instantly.

He eyed me, his attention dropping to my mouth, sucking on the cough drop. The attention made my throat dry, and I had the brief imagery of taking the lozenge out of my mouth and placing it in his.

He does not want your germs, Lola. A violent voice echoed through my thoughts from a place long buried.

“Why do you only eat those on Thursdays?” he asked, catching me off guard.

“How could you possibly know that?”

“I’m very attentive,” he said. “Are you doing something that makes you sick?”

I felt heat rise up in my cheeks. “I hang out with Andy on Wednesday evenings,” I said slowly.