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Finding Theresa is her primary agenda; she reroutes from making a stop at her locker and heads straight for Theresa's.
The brunette is at her locker, cheer uniform pressed and glossy ponytail up, laughing shrilly at something she's viewing on her cell phone. Rachel is with her, her burning red hair standing out in the crowd. Haley detests the prickly feeling that sweeps through her instantly when she sees Rachel.
Theresa is one of those people she never interacts with in any way, academically or socially. She's never given her much thought beyond recognizing that she's a cheerleader, and there has never even been any kind of undercurrent between her and Nathan until last night. It's startling the reason why they're having their first conversation.
A reminder of the argument with Nathan makes her tummy do a somersault. She had a fitful night thanks to her funk, tossing around the bed, flipping and rearranging pillows, trying to shut out the voice in her head mocking her about Nathan's past.
Drawing a resigned sigh, she walks up to them. "Hey."
They both look up, Rachel promptly glaring at her. "What do you want?"
Haley flicks her gaze to her for a second before addressing Theresa. "Can I talk to you?"
With a theatrical eye roll, Rachel leaves. Theresa flicks her thick ponytail back in a dramatic fashion. "Is this about the tape? I told Nate that I'll destroy it, alright? There are no copies, so both of you leave me alone."
She turns to go, but Haley blocks her way. Her stomach flips over in surprise.
"'Scuse me."
"Nathan spoke to you?"
"He was at my house so crazy early. I was totally kidding about posting it online but then he, like, got this look on his face, and he was all, like, destroy the tape, and then I was, like, I was just joking, chill, my parents would kill me if I did something so stupid."
Theresa's scowl morphs into something close to dreamy. "It was kinda hot, but also, like, scary. He was super pissed."
"Who else knows about it?" Haley asks, uncomfortable with Theresa's tone. Nathan is the kind of guy who would easily turn women into psychotic stalkers.
"I don't know if Nate told anyone, but I never did. And Jazz has done way worse to, like, make a big deal. She was, like, older and I think it was, like, illegal or something."
Theresa grins dreamily again. "Super scores of fun."
Irritated by the girl's mental replay of the events of that night, Haley draws closer, gritting her teeth. Theresa's taller, but she doesn't let their height difference intimidate her.
"You better have destroyed that tape, Theresa, because if there ever comes a time where I hear or see anything about it, I will hurt you."
"Weird much?" Theresa grumbles with a slight eye roll. "It's just a sex tape."
"'Just'? Didn't you just say that your parents will kill you if they get wind of it?"
Theresa shrugs, the motion grating her for some reason. She takes another step towards Theresa, her eyes narrowed with intent.
"Hey—"
"Do you know what would happen if that tape got out? You'd be charged with possessing and distributing child pornography. All three of you. And your friend Jazz? Since she was older, she would also be charged with statutory rape. It may have been consensual, but you and Nathan would be lucky enough to get less than fifteen years and Jazz less than twenty. You wouldn't be in juvenile prison. No. You'd be in the big house with the adults, and for a pretty girl like you, it wouldn't take long for someone to dominate you. The world would keep revolving while you were gone, Theresa. Your friends would forget about you, all because you thought it would be cool to show everyone that you're springy and fearless."
She takes a breath when she's done, her heart thudding heavily in her chest. This has to be some kind of twisted definition of bullying, or psychological assault.
"Stay away from me," Theresa says in a near beseeching tone. She's flattened against her locker, looking like she's been backed into a corner by a hunter.
"Read up on the law before you decide to be audacious enough to post that video, Theresa. Trust me, you won't get away with it. I won't let you get away with it."
Theresa just stares at her incredulously. She blinks, swallows. "What does…audacious mean? Is it bad?"
With a heavy sigh, Haley steps back. "Just get rid of the tape," she says slowly before squaring her shoulders and walking away.
Her immediate stop is Peyton's locker. Before she reaches her friend, she glances towards Nathan's section. He's not there.
"What's the matter, foxy? Looking a little green there."
"I have developed anger issues, Peyton."
Despite her best efforts to stay calm, that brief chat with Theresa has sent her into an apoplectic state. The smug, bragging tone Theresa was using definitely clinched it.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
Conversations swirling around them, Haley leans close, asking in a low voice, "What's the craziest thing you've ever done?"
"Hang gliding is on my bucket list," Peyton answers, glancing up momentarily from the contents of her locker.
"Not that kind of crazy. Sex-wise."
A whisper of embarrassment wafts down her spine, spreading back up to her face. "I mean, is it so shocking that it would piss Luke off? Or has he done anything that would piss you off?"
Peyton is fully attentive and looking at her with wariness. "What did he tell you he did?"
"He didn't tell me anything. I just…"
She rolls out a breath, looking past Peyton's shoulder at a couple laughing loudly a few lockers down. The girl's head is thrown back, her face showing nothing but amusement. She can only see the back of the boy's head as he leans down to say something that the girl finds even more amusing. She wonders if their relationship is unproblematic and uncomplicated, if there are hounding parents and sex tapes involved in their romance. She's caught staring, the girl's wide smile dimming slightly and her eyes narrowing.
Haley looks away, saying, "Nathan has been with a lot of girls."
"I thought you already knew that?"
She nods, a blush creeping up her cheeks. "I did. I do, but…"
"But you can't deal with it?" Peyton nudges.
"He is so out of my league. I can lie to myself that it doesn't matter, but it does matter a little," she says honestly.
"He was the kid with the adorable face who didn't need to yank girls' pigtails at the playground to show that he liked them. He's the one girls daydream about, the one they hope will take them out on a date, the one they want to accidentally bump into and make out with. I was one of those girls whenever I saw him. He's the guy who can have any girl he wants without trying too hard," she rambles nervously, her eyes lowered.
"What exactly did he do?"
Peyton's tone is guarded, her forehead wrinkled slightly. Feeling uncomfortable about mentioning the tape, Haley forces a light smile and waves her hand in a dismissive gesture.
"I'm being weird today," she says, sounding defeated.
Brow still furrowed, Peyton looks at her meaningfully. "Whatever Nathan did, does it matter now? Does it change how you feel about him?"
She thinks about it. Does the tape really matter now? As long as Theresa keeps her mouth shut and destroys the tape, it won't matter.
Does it change how she feels about him? She still loves him, but she's upset with him for engaging in something so reckless with the future he has in mind for himself. Ten years, twenty years down the line, when his career has taken off, who's to say that someone won't dig up that kind of dirt?
"See? There's nothing to worry about. And to answer your question, someone once told me to choke them."
Haley laughs, the amusement shaking off some of her restlessness. "Thanks for that. I gotta get my stuff."
"See ya. Hey, if you share your jelly and bacon sandwich with me during lunch, I'll tell you more crazy stuff."
Already paces away, Haley stops mid-stride and turns around. "Do you guarantee that I'll not lose my appetite?"
"I think you can handle it," Peyton says with a mischievous smile.
Haley gives her a two-finger salute before resuming her walk down the hall. She's just stuffed the last of her books into her bag when Felix shows up, drenched in cologne.
"Morning, gorgeous."
He slings his arm across her shoulders. "You look nice in those jeans."
"What's the matter with you?"
Shutting the thin metal door, she tries to shrug his arm off but it stays put.
"Friends can't hug friends?"
She snorts, heaving his arm away forcefully. "We're friends? Since when?"
"Since we met. And I gave you a big tip yesterday."
"It was a dollar, Richie Rich."
"It'll help you buy something racy, won't it?"
His breath is hot and irritating against her skin.
"I am not interested, Felix, alright?" she says snappily, getting straight to the point.
Since they met, he's been refusing to catch on and she's having to hammer him over the head with it.
"Interested in what?" he asks with a playful smile.
"Going out with you, hanging out with you or whatever you think we can do together. I am not interested."
Felix shrugs and grins cynically. "Because you're dating 'The One.'"
She swallows back a frustrated sigh at the barb and finger quotations.
Felix then tilts his head to the side in thought, and as if he's come to some obvious conclusion, he widens his grin. "You're in a mood. Did you have a fight with your soul mate?"
For an instant, she hates him. Her lips tighten in agitation, and yet again, she ignores his mocking.
"We don't know each other for you to make the assumption that I'm in a bad mood."
"The ten dollar answer. So what do you do for fun in this backward place?"
"Well, there's a fishing contest out by the docks every Friday night, followed by a line dancing contest. Fish and music. It's mandatory to show up."
"Seriously?"
"No."
"Hilarious. I'm liking you every day."
The first bell rings, drowning out his too-loud laughter. She spins around fast to make her escape, but he follows her.
"Did you miss the bell?"
"No. I'm walking you to class."
He doesn't strike her as the type to walk anyone to class, confirming that this is all just a game to him.
"No, thank you."
She slows her pace, coming to a stop near the north hallway's bulletin board. He's a good head taller, the corners of his mouth twitching like he's finding everything amusing.
"Don't you have some girl to annoy?"
"I annoyed her yesterday. You're the lucky girl today."
She was mistaken about his arrogance reminding her of Nathan; Nathan's doesn't make her want to shove him into the wall.
"I think that girl is waving at you."
Felix turns in the direction she's jutting her chin to. "What girl? Where?"
She ducks around the corner, shoving away Felix's dog-with-a-bone antics. She hurriedly makes her way to the chemistry lab, the unpleasant feeling of confronting Nathan renewing in her gut.
He's seated at her work table, finger tapping on the surface like with impatience. His head is lowered, the curled edges of his thick, lengthened hair brushing at the collar of his jacket.
She falters for a step before moving towards him. When she drops her bag on the table top, he looks up, blinking once like he was lost in thought. She slides onto the next stool and they both turn, such that they're facing each other, knees touching.
"Hi."
"Hi."
She props an elbow on the table and tucks her thumbnail between her teeth, an absurd rush of apprehension sweeping over her.
"What's that smell?" Nathan asks, nose crinkled.
"Someone's perfume rubbed off on me," she says vaguely, not in the mood to start explaining.
She has a need to change clothes; Felix's intense cologne has shrouded her own and rubbed off on her, so much so that with every breath she takes, she gets a whiff of it. It's not cheap, but it's not alluring, either.
"You flinched last night," he begins. "When I told you about the tape, you actually flinched when I reached for you. I hate to think that you're repulsed by me."
He sounds truly hurt, and she can only gaze at him solemnly. Quietly, she finally says, "I was angry, Nathan."
His brow furrows in doubt before it levels out. "Are you still angry?"
She drags out a sigh, answering calmly, "A little."
Nathan just nods. He then shoves a hand into his jeans pocket and brings out a folded paper. Her gut flips.
He looks at it for a moment before holding it out. Her gaze jumps from the paper to his face, her pulse drumming faster with each passing second. He wrote it.
"Here's the list, but it's not the list of every girl I've ever been with."
She stares at it. "What is it?"
"It's the list of every girl I've ever been in love with, and your name is the only one that's on it. It's the only one that matters."
Dumbfounded, her eyes snap up to his. For a second, her lips twitch and she smiles for real. But swiftly, her necessity to know the truth settles in. "Nathan…"
He shifts in his chair and leans a little forward, lowering his voice. "The other list would be just rubbish, okay? Of a person that I'm not proud of."
He's visibly distressed and she gently presses a hand on his arm. "That's really sweet, but…"
He takes a breath and lets it out slowly. "But you want the other list."
She dips her chin in a small nod.
His eyes helplessly search her face for a time before he takes out another paper and rests it beside the other one. Her gaze drifts back to the table, to the two papers staring back at her.
Nathan gets off the stool and stands straight. He hesitates like to say something but his mouth closes around the words.
He shakes his head a bit as if to clear it, murmuring, "I guess it's about time you knew."
She looks intently at the folded papers like they're poisonous, daring herself to open them. Her chest pounds as she toys with their edges, wondering what she should do next.
Did she have a right to ask him to do this? Does she have a right to know about his former flames?
She peeks over her shoulder to the back of the room. He's taken his seat, elbows leaning on the table as he writes into his notebook. Probably doodling.
She's regretting asking for the list. Her curiosity has made her open up this can of worms, and she can't back down.
The teacher marches into class, and she rounds up the papers, slipping them into her bag.
Throughout class, her ankle feels heated where it touches her bag, like the papers are burning a hole right through. At the end of the lesson, she sees Nathan exit the room using the rear door. He thinks she's read it and he doesn't want to discuss it just yet.
She's itching to read the list of his old flames, but she doesn't want to do it hurriedly in between classes and locker stops. Lunch period she'll have at least an hour to read to her heart's discontent. It can't get there soon enough, her mind zoning in on the pieces of notebook paper tucked away.
The moment the bell rings signalling lunchtime, she bolts for the bathroom, locking herself up in a stall and plunking down on the toilet lid. Her fingers are shaky and her breathing is harsh as she pulls out the papers. This is her Pandora's box.
She pauses for a moment, considering her options. Does she really want to know? Is she going to deal with the repercussions in a mature manner?
Turning a blind eye to the warnings creeping over the surface, she pulls open the first one without confirming which one it is. A rapt knock on the door gives her a jolt.
"Occupied," she says without breaking her gaze from the words on the paper.
Haley, I love you.
Warmth creeps over her, but her smile doesn't last long. She doesn't doubt that Nathan loves her, but her nosiness has so overtaken her that she can't back off from this.
The pressure in her chest increases as she unfolds the second paper. She lets her eyes trail down the page, soaking in the names written in the lopsided handwriting. Some of them she recognizes, others she doesn't. Some of them are just first names, others are both names; Arlette Heller. Cynthia. Theresa. Jasmine. Jo Daugherty. One of them is simply stated as "eyebrow ring girl."
She remembers Jo Daugherty, an exchange student from Canada in their sophomore year. Jo was also a very shrewd germaphobe; she would constantly squeeze out unusual amounts of hand sanitizer from a tiny plastic bottle she always carried with her, and rub her hands feverishly. She wonders whether Jo took a chemical decontamination shower afterwards and how Nathan felt about that.
As though hypnotized, she rereads the list like she's committing those names to memory. It's obvious that Nathan's level of experience is eons ahead of hers. Briefly, she muses on what he's doing with her. He could add onto this list easily with more anonymous hookups if they were not together. He could meet other girls who have more special features, not her with her ordinary body and face.
As soon as she's done, her shoulders slump with the breath she lets out. She drags the paper from her face, her hand balling into a fist around it. A headache erupts above her right eye.
Twenty-three. That has stunned her into silent horror.
He was fourteen his first time, and with twenty-three names on the list, that's a hell of a number for someone who hasn't even celebrated his eighteenth birthday. No wonder he had a reputation for being a jerk and a freak in the sheets. And not in the list are girls he didn't sleep with but did things with.
It's a clearly unbalanced situation, him being the only one on her list and twenty-three on his list. Her apprehensiveness has just blazed to life.
She clasps her head in her hands, the paper crinkling against her skin. Those faceless girls have names, some with faces she's seen in shared classes, gorgeous faces at that. The internal battle of self-consciousness and self-esteem rages within her. She likes to think she's a sensible person, but at the end of it, she's a teenage girl fighting body image issues and insecurities. Reading this list has provoked every one of them.
Another knock, a sharper one, breaks her concentration.
"Occupied!" she practically screams.
Her face is flushing, and her fingers are bent where they clutch the list.
"Sweet mother," she mumbles constantly to herself, unable to think.
Twenty-three. Twenty-three? Twenty-three!
Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she stuffs both lists back into her bag and draws in a few long breaths.
Confident that she's steady enough to walk and talk despite the dark mood coursing through her, she steps out of the stall. Her eyes wander over the cluster of girls in the bathroom. They sweep their gazes over her, the ones in line for her stall looking obviously irritated at having to wait. The thought of running into one of Nathan's bed sheet buddies right now is too angering to think about.
"Sorry," she gabbles awkwardly, wandering to a sink.
She washes her hands twice, like she's ridding herself of a contagious toxin. Hands wet and resting on the edge of the sink, she watches the water pour out of the tap until it automatically turns off. Stupid Pandora's box. Stupid that she gave in to her stupid nosiness.
Realizing where she is, she dries her hands off and storms out of the bathroom, leaving behind whispers of how "crazy" and "psycho" she is. Theresa defaming her is the least of her concerns.
When she steps out of the cold building, she soaks in the sunny warmth for a blessed second before pointing towards the courtyard. On a pleasantly warm day like today, she's sure she'll find him outside, not the cafeteria.
The picnic tables are filled, and so are patches of grass in the courtyard, most of everyone taking advantage of the sunshine; it sure beats the chill and rain of winter.
After scanning the area, she sees him sitting alone at one of the tables close to a shady eucalyptus. Books are haphazardly spread out in front of him and he's in deep concentration scribbling something across his notebook. Where she lives for quietness to study, he likes noise.
"For a popular guy, you can be quite the loner."
Looking up from his books, he blinks against the sunlight. "Hey."
"Hey."
Instead of going around the picnic bench, she just plunks herself down beside him, his legs under the table, hers facing the yard.
"You spoke to Theresa."
Nathan makes no reply.
"Sometimes it shocks me how experienced you are," she says very quietly without bitterness. "No, no. It always shocks me how experienced you are."
Her eyes lower, vulnerability and self-doubt wrapping themselves around her. She can't get that number out of her head. How peculiar that it's also his jersey number.
"You've done a lot of…stuff that I've only heard about, and it's intimidating. Your history is intimidating."
Embarrassed at the confession, she glances at her shoe, shoulders hunching over. Being reminded of Nathan's serial seducing ways makes her crazed with anxiety.
When his cool fingers skim over her cheek, she instinctively reaches out, desperately closing her fingers over his. She feels so wretched that she's scared she may never want him to see her body again after this.
He gently pushes her chin up, her head tilting back so that she meets his eyes. As they search deep into his, her chin suddenly trembles, and her throat jams with tears.
"We've never talked about my past in great detail," he speaks softly, "but I have never lied to you about it."
She's beyond mortified that she's close to choking on tears because she's the twenty-fourth girl on his list. Without turning her eyes away from him, she inaudibly drinks in a deep breath to hold back that flood.
"It was just sex. I didn't care about them and they didn't care about me. I didn't want to know their stories and they didn't want to know mine. They wanted to sleep with a basketball player and I wanted to sleep with them because they were on board with it. It was a win-win. When any of them gave me the impression that they wanted to save me or turn me from a lost cause to a devoted boyfriend, I walked."
An uncomfortable pause follows. Nathan drops his hand, his eyes shifting around behind her like he's in search of something. "You and me, it's not about my reputation and it's not about a quick f—"
"Stop right there."
He chuckles under his breath, dipping his head until their foreheads are touching. "I was going to say a quick fix."
She blushes, feeling foolish.
"Although we do the other thing pretty well when it's quick."
He brushes the backs of his fingers gently down her cheek.
Pushed by impulse, she explodes, "I don't mean to be dramatic but what if you meet someone and become so insanely attracted to them that you'll think, 'It's just sex. Haley won't mind.'"
She feels remorseful and all kinds of wrong when she hears his sharp intake of breath. She should have stopped herself before the words leaked out.
He leans back and blinks at her like he's just had the wind knocked out of him. There's a long pause. A dark, grieving look passes over his face before it smoothly changes to one of anger.
"You've thought that? You've thought that of me?" he asks, tight-lipped.
"Last night I did," she says with brutal honesty.
His eyes dim further with that anger, and it's gone when he scrubs a hand down his face. He takes a breath and tips his head slightly sideways, looking at her seriously.
"Since I met you, the idea of meaningless hookups does not work for me. I wouldn't cheat on you. I don't want to screw this up, I don't want to screw us up, and I hate that trash like this threatens to ruin what we have."
He tugs her close and gives her a slow kiss. "Believe me. Trust me."
To her astonishment, something remarkable happens as she listens to him: she doesn't care about those twenty-three girls. For that brief moment, she's relaxed in the fact that he loves her.
She wraps a hand around his nape and pulls him in for a warm, hard kiss.
A crooked smile forms on his lips. "What was that for?"
Swinging a foot across the bench like to straddle it, she slips her arms around his neck. "Your sincerity."
Slithering an arm around her waist, he tips his head back, curious. "And the list?"
She sidles closer to him. "I liked the one written by the guy I fell in love with."
He caresses her cheek, dipping his head and slanting his mouth across hers. His lips coax and tease, his tongue slipping forth between her parted lips, hungry and demanding.
Mid-kiss, Nathan pauses, drawing back slowly. His eyes are narrowed like in confusion, lips still puckered.
"What?"
"You said you liked the list with your name on it. Which means that you didn't like the other list."
Haley smacks her lips together, and then says, "Okay, I read the other list."
His smile drops a fraction. "You did?"
"I was too curious not to. I mean, did you expect me not to read it?"
He nods, colour streaking across his cheeks. "Well, yeah."
She presses a quick kiss to his lips. "You hit the double digits but it wasn't as bad as I'd imagined."
"Really? What number did you have in mind?"
"Fifties?"
He looks like he's swallowed a few thumbtacks. "Are you serious?"
She chuckles, cradling his cheek in her palm and lightly kissing the corner of his mouth. "I'm sorry! Can you blame me? You got around before we met."
His head propped up on her shoulder, he rubs his hands up and down her back. "Just call me a slut already."
"Yeah, you were."
As if the list is teasing her, she sees Arlette Heller across the yard, sitting cross-legged with a bunch of girls that resemble her; remarkable skin, hair, eyes, smile, body.
She's barely grasped everything, and the sight of someone from the list is like a scorching touch on a raw wound. It leaves her winded that Arlette shares a physical familiarity with Nathan.
Nathan nudges her. "You've become really tense. And I don't like the look on your face. What's going on in that brain of yours?"
Things are a reeling mess in that brain of hers.
"How did it get to twenty-three?" she asks curiously, sparing Arlette another glance. "Do you still talk to some of them?"
She's not asking because she's on the brink of acting like a crazy, jealous person, although she wants to act that way; she's interested in the interactions that followed.
Nathan looks uncomfortable, but in total honesty he says defensively, "I'm not proud of that list. I used to be, but I'm not."
She shakes her head, swiping a thumb tip along his jawline. "Baby, it's not about that. I'm wondering if you ever acknowledge each other or just ignore each other, when you've been, you know, naked together."
He scrunches his eyebrows and tightens his grip on her waist. "You're really overthinking it."
She shrugs and smiles sheepishly, feeling like easing into the behaviour of a child drama queen.
He's silent for a moment.
"Okay, let me see if I can address those pestering thoughts that are suffocating you. I don't talk to them beyond a casual greeting. Like I said, we got what we wanted and there was no need to know each other. On my part, anyway. We met at parties or games or school or through friends. Always casual, never serious. And if it happened that we were drunk, I wasn't wasted enough not to be safe."
As hard as it is to hear, she's glad that he's told her.
"I didn't—"
"You didn't ask," he throws in, "but you were thinking it."
She fidgets awkwardly because he's right.
He clears his throat. "I was reckless once, and I never made that mistake again."
Her heart has just stopped. She gave him such a hard time about his past that she's learning things she didn't want to learn.
"Reckless?" she squeaks, her face remaining expressionless.
He sighs, raising a hand to stroke his fingers down the side of her face. "I'm clean, Hales, remember? You are important to me and I wouldn't do that to you."
There he goes again, knocking down her defences.
Her lips crash into his for another hard kiss. "Maybe I should be thanking these girls."
A thick, dark eyebrow quirks up in question.
"I'm reaping the benefits from your training," she says softly.
She relaxes against him, the rumble of his laughter vibrating through her. He strokes her back, rests his chin on her head, kisses her forehead.
"You're my present," he whispers into her skin.
"A belated birthday gift?"
She lifts her head up to look up at him, disguising the temptation she has to keep reading too much into this. She needs to get over the stupid list that's burning a hole in her chest.
"The past is the past, right?"
One corner of his mouth turns up and his face perks up. "Right."
Her lips glide lightly on his cheek. "I love us." Without taking her eyes from his, she grazes her lips across his. "And I love you."
Their lips stroke every inch of each other's mouths with the increasing intensity of the kiss. She's a nibble away from straddling him when they're interrupted by a throat-clearing that's being laid on thick.
"Can we sit here?"
Two girls and a guy are standing to the side of the table with lunch trays and amused grins. Her heart leaps when she realizes that she forgot that they're in school in the middle of the day.
Nathan smiles slyly at her, saying to them, "Sure."
She twists her body to tuck her legs under the table, leaning her head on his shoulder.
The table is covered in silence as they all consider each other and share polite smiles. Nathan's cell phone vibrates on top of the books, breaking the quietness. The trio across the table now feels comfortable enough to pull their heads together and chat.
While Nathan replies to a message, Haley looks at the page of equations that he was working on. He has given his eraser a serious workout, the page close to tearing in places.
"Differential equations?" she asks when he puts his phone down.
He nods, jerking the spiral notebook away from her and flipping it closed. "Assignment."
"Can I see?"
He shakes his head. "If you see, you'll end up supervising me while I labour through the calculations. I'll figure them out eventually."
She stifles a laugh. "Come on. I won't."
"Have you eaten?" he asks, deflecting.
She lets out a sigh and dumps her lunch out on the table.
Nathan's eyebrows go up, eyes clouded with amusement. "Cookies and water?"
"I was in a hurry this morning."
"And you decided to eat lunch like a convict?"
She has to press a hand against her mouth to hold the giggles and the food.
When the bell goes off, the trio across the table quickly gathers their things to leave while still in a debate about pottery. Getting to her feet, Haley arranges the strap of her bag around her wrist. As they walk along the paved path, Nathan curls an arm around her shoulders and switches routes.
"Where are we…"
"Let's cut through shop."
Haley stops abruptly, her gaze cutting between the workshop building and the paved path. "You can cut through shop?" she asks with a look of surprise on her face.
Nathan shakes his head like with disappointment, tugging her to resume walking. "You are such a nerd."
She pinches his arm lightly. "I'm an honour student."
An easy smile slides across his lips. "Exactly. A nerd."
"Whatever. You don't know what you'd do without me."
Following him into the workshop, she can suddenly feel the weight of the twenty-three names settling heavily on her shoulders again. Her stomach turns over. Her runaway mind strikes doubts into her like icy fists. Above all, she contemplates whether things will be the same again.