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Maddie raises her eyebrows as if she's not surprised, then follows the other two inside.
A few minutes later, a truck pulls up and Evan, the blonde guy, steps out of one side, while Hazel steps out of the other.
I watch with my jaw set as the guy waits for her to round the car before they approach me.
"Hey," I say, my voice sounding a little tight.
"Hi! Thanks for inviting me." Hazel says. "This is Evan, my friend."
Evan smiles and gives me a wave. I smile back politely.
"Hi, I'm Casey. Hazel's friend." I say.
"Cool," Evan says. I wouldn't say I like the way his voice sounds; it's like he's giving me attitude.
"Should we go inside?" He asks. I can't tell if he's being sarcastic or not.
"Yeah, it's getting cold," Hazel says. I guess he wasn't being sarcastic.
We enter, and there are a lot of people already here, including Emilia's boyfriend, who she's sitting next to chatting his ear off. I decided just to sit next to Leah, assuming Hazel was going to be talking to her friend the whole time.
But Hazel sits in the seat on the other side of me, across from Emilia, and Evan sits next to her, across from Emilia's boyfriend.
I quickly found out Evan was good friends with Emilia's boyfriendâhis name is Marco; I never bothered to askâand a lot of the girls on the team.
Hazel nudges me, and I look at her. "You okay?"
I nod. "Yeah," I say. And because she looks like she's waiting for more, I add, "Just tired."
Hazel's outfit is simple; a thick crewneck sweater that cinches at the bottom and a pair of high-waisted jeans; but looks cute nonetheless.
A couple of waiters come and hand us drinks, and since Leah is busy chatting with the two people on her other side, I'm forced to engage in a conversation with Hazel.
"How has your week been?" I ask, resting my hand around the base of my drink and turning to her.
She purses her lips. "It's been okay," she says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Just okay?"
She looks away. "Well, yeah, it hasn't been exceptionally bad."
I nod, understanding.
Something lights up in her eyes and her gaze returns to mine. "Actually, I met this guy."
It's as if my heart sinks into my stomach. God, I hate crushes. The way a person can cause you so much pain by saying something they think is no big deal. She can obviously do whatever she wants, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.
"Really? Who?" I choke out. I'm trying hard to sound like I care.
"His name is Jack."
How is she always surrounded by guys?
"Hm." I hum, nodding. "Is he cute?"
Her nose wrinkles a little, so quickly that I almost miss the action. "I guess he's not ugly . . ." she trails off. Then she blinks. "But that's not the point. I met him at the rehab center when I went to drop off something for my mom."
Oh. Ohhhh. Excuse me for assuming. "Oh, I thought you meantânever mind. That's cool."
Hazel looks confused, then brushes it off. "And guess what?"
"What?" I ask, still skeptical.
"He has a little sister that goes to Landon's school." She says.
"Oh. What a coincidence." I say. My voice comes out flat before I can give it emotion.
Hazel studies my face, and I just look at her.
"Why are you acting weird?" she asks.
I feel my brows furrow. "I'm not acting weird."
She stares at me for a long moment, and again, I stare back at her.
She suddenly speaks, her voice firm. "Tutoring tomorrow. My house, five p.m. Don't be late."
"Okay," I say.
Hazel gives me one last curious look before setting her napkin on the table and standing up.
"Where are you going?" I ask.
"The bathroom," she answers. She sounds annoyed.
~~~
Mr. Cromey holds up a stack of papers, his expression somehow more cheerful than before. I came to school around five minutes late today, and when I walked through the door, Mr. Cromey looked happy.
"You're late," Hazel says. I remove my backpack and set it on the floor by my desk.
I make eye contact with her as I sit down. "Yeah. I accidentally slept in."
Mr. Cromey's voice disturbs our little chat. "I graded your tests last night, and I have to say, I'm impressed. Your hard work is paying off."
I'll be the judge of that.
Mr. Cromey calls her name, and she stands to receive her test.
I'm not trying to act weird, I just . . . I don't know. I just don't feel like putting effort into whatever twisted thing is between us if she's so unattainable.
"One hundred percent? Wow, Hazel." Alyssa says when Hazel sits back down.
"Thanks," Hazel says. She smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes.
Mr. Cromey calls my name and smiles when I reach him. "Good job, Casey."
Sitting back down, I look at my test. Scribbled in a skinny red pen is a ninety-seven percent.
"Wow, Hazel. One hundred?" I say, turning to her.
She turns. "Huh? Oh, thanks."
I smile hesitantly.
"What did you get?" she asks. Her hair is in a low ponytail, and each lock curls at the end.
"Ninety-seven."
Hazel's face brightens. "That's really good," she says, smiling. She turns her head and takes a piece of her hair, twirling it around her finger. It's mesmerizing.
I avert my gaze.
"See how much you've improved? I'm proud of you, Casey." Hazel says.
Her comment tugs at my heart, and my chest grows warm.
"Thanks." I beam. "All thanks to you."
She rolls her eyes, still smiling. "Finals are in a few weeks. Have you started studying?"
I purse my lips. "Only for one or two of my classes."
She doesn't look angry. "That's okay. I like to start as soon as I get all my study guides." She shrugs. "Just a suggestion."
"I'll try that," I say.
Leah is waiting in the hallway when we exit the classroom. "Guess what?"
"What?" I ask. Hazel stands next to me, clutching her binder to her chest.
"Marco's friend Tanner is planning to ask Maddie to the winter formal at lunch."
Right, it's almost December.
"Oh yeah, Emilia mentioned that to me yesterday," Hazel smiles. "I'm supposed to distract her, or something."
Leah claps her hands excitedly. "Oh my gosh, I can't believe you all have dates this year."
I raise a brow at her. "Um."
Leah notices and winces. "Oh, sorry, Casey. I forgot."
I glare at her, and I hear Hazel giggle next to me. I glare at her, too.
"Anyway, I have to get to class," Hazel says, still grinning.
Lunch is fine; with the normal banter between Alex, Carson, and me and the biased mediating from Brandon. The rest of the day breezes by, and practice is light due to the upcoming tournament. As soon as I get home, I take a quick shower and change out of my soccer clothes.
I arrive at Hazel's house five minutes before the time we agreed. Not wanting to be rude, I scroll on my phone to pass the time.
When the time reaches 5:01, I exit my car and ring the doorbell. She opens it immediately with a smirk on her face.
"I was wondering when you'd get out of your car."
I blush. "I didn't want to intrude."
She turns and walks toward the stairs, and I shut the door behind me and follow her.
"My mother took Landon to see a doctor. He hurt his leg." Hazel explains. "So there's nothing to worry about; I have the house to myself."
"Hm." I hum in response. She pushes open the door to her room, and I gasp. It looks much different from the rest of the house. Her bed is in the corner of the room, piled with multiple warm, fuzzy blankets and pillows, and there's a comfy rug on the floor. One of the walls is adorned with Polaroid pictures of people I assume are her friends, and another has a bookshelf filled with books.
The other wall has a floor-to-ceiling mirror with floating wall shelves and those Amazon LED lights.
"Woah." I breathe.
She looks at me and smiles. "What?"
"Your room is so cool," I say.
"Thanks," she says, then she looks around. "I got rid of my desk, so we have to do it on the floor. Or my bed, if that's okay."
"Yeah, that's perfect. I don't care."
"Okay, good." Hazel pulls out her laptop and logs into the online classroom. I'm still mesmerized by her room, and she motions for me to sit beside her on the bed.
"Mr. Cromey's lesson was so confusing today," I say, ignoring how my knee brushes against hers as I sit down.
"For once, I agree with you. I don't think he knew what he was even talking about," she says.
I look at her. "You? Flaming Mr. Cromey? That's something I'd never expect."
She side-eyes me. "I'm not 'flaming' him; I'm just agreeing that he wasn't in his best teaching mind today."
"Mhm. Sure." I say.
Hazel rolls her eyes and hands me the computer. "Here. Look through these. I need to use the bathroom."
She leaves, and I stretch my legs out on the bed, leaning back on the headboard. I scroll through the document of notes, and I see the comments she made. I understand part of it, but not the parts my teacher explained today.
The door opens; Hazel's back. I swing myself back into a sitting position.
Pointing at the screen as she sits down, I say, "How the heck do you get 'log of x-squared' from 'two times log of x'?"
She leans over my lap to see the computer. "Oh." She says when she sees the problem. She turns to me. "When you add two logs together, the index or argument multiplies. So if you multiply two logs together, the index or argument exponentiates."
She uses her hands to describe it, each index finger representing a log function. My brain screams "cute", and a smile attempts to possess my lips, but I blink that and the thoughts away.
"Oh, okay," I say, totally getting it.
I'm sure we're all aware of the extent of my attention span. I get bored easily, and I don't know how I thought initiating a 'tickle fight' was a good idea.
We had long since finished the homework and Hazel was looking up study guides for the upcoming final exams. As I watched her frown at the laptop, the question popped into my head.
"Are you ticklish?" I asked.
She turned to look at me, searching my face for a hint of my intentions. "Why?"
I shrugged. "Just wondering. Are you?" My face stayed serious, and hers remained suspicious of me.
". . . No," she answered, sounding unsure.
"Okay," I said plainly, and after a few seconds of her looking at me suspiciously, she turned back to the laptop.
Bored again, I looked at my hand, which was already in a two-fingers-outstretched position, and poked her lightly in the side.
She immediately recoiled and whipped her head in my direction, a funny expression on her face. "What theâCasey!"
A grin spread across my face. "Oh, you're super ticklish."
She scoffs, cheeks pink in surprise. "I am not."
I raise a brow. "Are you sure? Let's test that theory." I say, reaching toward her again. But Hazel's too fast. She grabs my hand and stretches her free hand out towards me.
Wait, I'm ticklish.
I scramble away from her, moving backward on the bed.
"Hey!" I scream, as she moves faster than me and prods my stomach.
She smiles smugly. "That's what you get--"
Hazel interrupts herself with a shriek as I launch forward and tickle her sides. Giggling uncontrollably, she twists out of my grasp and turns on me. But in my compromising position, it isn't easy for me to get up and overpower her, and she launches a full attack of tickles. I laugh and I swear I can feel tears in my eyes. This is torture.
Raising my hands in surrender, I sputter out: "Okay, okay! I get it, you win!"
Hazel grins devilishly above me, and as she stops, her smile falls. Her hair has slipped from its ponytail, hanging messily over her shoulders and brushing against my cheek.
Holy crap, she's hot.
Her lips are parted, her eyebrows slightly scrunched, as if in concentration, and her chest moves with each ragged breath. Her hands have my arms pinned to the bed, and I force myself to meet her gaze.
But she's staring at my lips.
My heart pounds in my chest as I look at hers again, and I'm hit with the sudden urge to kiss her. But I can't. I can't do that, we're friends. She could never like me; I know that from years of experience. It's foolish for me to keep feeling like this.
Her eyes suddenly flick to mine, and her full face turns pink. I laugh nervously as she blinks multiple times and looks away, pulling herself away from me. "Sorry, um."
A/N:
Don't forget to vote!!!
also can someone help me with chemistry cause what the flip
<3