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Oliver grins, and a glint of mischief appears in his eye. He knew exactly what he did when he recommended that stupid book. “Oh, come on! It’s a fantastic short story to get you to dip your toes into the pool of reading!”
“Yeah, my toes were definitely wet,” I snort. The words are out of my mouth before I realise what I said, and I can feel the blush heating up the tips of my ears and my cheeks. Oliver clears his throat, his face a similar shade of red. Luckily, he doesn’t let us sit in awkward silence for too long.
“Well, I’m sure I’ll be able to give you better recommendations in the future. I just have to get to know you better. How was the first class?”
I purse my lips in thought. “Easy enough. We just did some icebreakers and went over the content for the semester. At least it didn’t seem like too much work. Not like my chemistry classes.”
“What’s the first reflection task on?” I turn my laptop towards him, and I watch as a single eyebrow raises. “Oh, that’s easy. Everyone’s read that one.” Noticing the expression on my face, he pauses. “Maybe not everyone.”
I groan. I hate the way he just assumes everyone is just like him. That everyone is just so good at reading and so good at analysing and so good at—
“This is just stupid. Why do I have to do a Literature class when I could have just done another Chemistry class?” The words are tumbling out of me before I can stop them. “I’ve got offers for research projects lining up, but I have to do this! I have to read these books and write pointless essays! Which will certainly not help me in my future profession!”
I’ll admit that maybe I let my emotions get the better of me in the moment, but who could blame me? Oliver watches me strangely, like I’m a chemical equation he can’t seem to balance. Like he cannot understand why Literature would bring anyone stress.
“It’s not all that bad, you know. Critical thinking is essential for every aspect of life. You just have to put the effort in.”
My head snaps to his, and I have to physically restrain myself from pointing a finger in his face. A habit I got from my mother, I’m sure.
“I put the effort in two years ago, and look where that got me,” I spit through gritted teeth. I know he’s just trying to help, but I’ve been wound so tightly worrying about this subject for so long. It feels like my head is going to explode.
He raises his hands defensively. “Hey, you’re the one who wanted me to help. Let me help you.”
“I don’t need your help!”
“You literally hired me! And you certainly will if you want to pass! It’s not my fault the university’s making you do this subject!”
We’re both breathing heavily and speaking a bit too loud considering we’re in a library. He has this look in his eye so different from his usual carefree one. Like he’s worried for me. He’s so close that I can make out a smattering of freckles across his nose. So close I could just grab his face and kiss him. I take a couple of deep breaths, rubbing my finger over my knuckles.
“Fine, fine. Let’s just get on with it.”
Oliver looks at me strangely but doesn’t question my sudden change in attitude. I read the short story that my assignment is based on and we spend the next hour discussing ideas and concerns raised within the text. The focus on ‘authorial intent’ makes my head spin. I don’t know why an old dude from years ago used a specific word. Maybe he just liked to use it. I’m not the expert here.
The work that I should be doing is in the lab, pushing the boundaries of what science is capable of. Not trying to pull meaning from words that may have never even been intended.
By the time our session is almost over, we’ve both calmed down since our earlier disagreement. I thank him, doing my best not to get lost in the depth of those forest green eyes. He gives me a tight smile and then walks away without a backwards glance. I don’t want to admit how much that stings. When I make my way back to my room, I lay face down in my bed. Something that—unfortunately—looks to be becoming a habit whenever Oliver’s involved.
4
CHAPTER FOUR
Oliver.
“You’re distracted.”
“Huh?”
Ben’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. We’ve been in the library for two hours now and I have not made any progress whatsoever in any of my assignments. Although it’s only the first week back, my subjects do not offer any respite. I have my first piece of work to hand in by the end of next week and it’s currently sitting in front of me in the form of a blank document.
“You’re. Distracted. You’ve barely touched your laptop since we’ve sat down! You’re never usually like this.”
Out of anyone, Ben is the one person who can tell my usual from my unusual. We’ve been thick as thieves since our first class together in Year 7, and our connection has only deepened over the years. When I look up at him over my laptop he must spot a look in my eye, because his mouth drops and his eyebrows practically hit his hairline.
“Ben, don’t—“
“It’s the girl, isn’t it! Oh my god, Michelle is going to love this!”
“It’s not that simple!” My desperate attempts to pull him back to reality go ignored as he furiously types a message to his girlfriend. The two of them have been desperately trying to get me back on the dating scene since we started university, and the fact that I’m more interested in fictional worlds than the real one does not help their cause.
