08 | 𝑁𝑒𝑐𝑟𝑜𝑝ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑎

"Rough morning?" Jay pressed with an uneven smile.

I breathed, nodding my head timeously. "Long day."

He glanced at his watch. "It's seven thirty in the morning."

I was well-aware of that. I cupped my paper travel mug with two hands as if it was an antidote to cure all my problems. I had successfully avoided Sullivan any chance I got, but it was November fifteenth, Thursday morning and I knew that I had no other choice, but to inevitably confront him.

Jay seemed to read my mind, because he asked, "Have you talked to Sully yet?"

"No," I uttered into the plastic, taking cautious sips of the hot chocolate, attempting to keep the sweet and scorching taste on my tongue long enough.

"Well, speak of the devil. Gotta run!" he exclaimed, bouncing off the bench we sat at in the hallways. "And don't worry, my schizophrenia is not seeing the actual devil..." He went to leave but pivoted around and added, "this time."

When he disappeared, my eyes trailed after him mindlessly, coincidentally meeting with Sullivan's as he neared. A backpack was crookedly shifted along his build, one strap on his shoulder. He wore his typical red, orange, and white jersey with the number '24' on the back. The maroon polyester mesh loosely hugged his broad shoulders.

Urgh, to be a shirt.

"Hey," he started, running a hand through his blond wave. He seemed breathless. "I've been meaning to talk to you."

"Really? W-what could that be about?" I dumbly questioned while cursing my inability to lie or speak English in times of crises.

"Well, a few things actually," he chuckled awkwardly. "Can I sit down?" He beckoned a hand to the bench seat beside me. My heart throbbed in my chest, my stomach curling unbearably. "Class doesn't start till fifteen minutes--"

"I know," I interjected, my cheeks flaring crazily bright and crimson. I didn't want him to think I was obnoxious for interrupting him like how I did, but when I looked over at his expression, avoiding his eyes, he looked normal and not on edge.

I could never look him in the eyes, he'd always make me get flustered and I wouldn't be able to converse with him. Suddenly, he inquired, "so, how was babysitting?"

"What?" I shook my head trying to see and hear him correctly.

Did he say babysitting? Play it cool? Maybe he's mistaken me for someone else? Should I act or deny?

He drew out a little slower, "yeah, babysitting?"

"Right!" I snapped.

Shit, why do I lie if I can't lie? Exhibit A, right now. I can't even make a decent lie and stick with it. Curse my inability to remember shit.

"Great, totally great!" I expressed vividly, "like, the best."

"Taking it didn't go so well?" he chuckled, but my heart swelled. He didn't laugh like he did when he was with Kayla, it was more of a noise between our silence kinda-chuckle.

I nodded, knowing me, if I spoke too much, I'd accidentally let the truth slip. Nonetheless, I watched as he shifted uncomfortably on the bench, finally raising his voice and asking the inevitable, "why did you let me call you Mia for four years? I mean, I never pay attention to the attendance and I somehow never found out on my own--I just, I don't understand how this could've happened--"

"Oh," I took in a sharp breath. "It's fine, really," but my voice sounded sarcastic when I said it and then I remembered back to what Victor told me. I shook my head, ignoring my cheeks which were possibly the brightest shades of a firetruck. "No," I begin again, "I never corrected you about that and I'm sorry."

"Why?" he chuckled lightly, exactly like Victor predicted. Confused but jokingly.

"Because," I grimaced, keeping my eyes locked on my hands, feeling prepared. "I felt awkward if I corrected you so I let it slide and by time it started to annoy me, I felt that it was too late. It's such a little thing, but social anxiety, am I right?" I teased.

Did I just tell him I had social anxiety?

I explained this to him and then made the fateful and regretful mistake of looking up.

God, his smile was perfect. His lips were the color of a light peachy pink combination, slightly parted with pearly white teeth in neat rows behind them. I really wanted to find out what it was like to kiss him.

Yeah, I'm weird, but I knew that already.

His chiseled jaw became a little rounder when he smiled, his albino complexion increased rosiness. His eyes were so perfectly green it was unbearable, drawn with strands of yellow, enticed into the army hues--

Wait! He was talking.

"Y'know?" he concluded.

Shit, why wasn't I paying attention. Curse my inability to look into his eyes.

I nodded anyway, but then shook my head, Victor told me, guys like honest girls, but there was a small possibility that my honesty is what makes him doubt himself and his self esteem and then I'd ruin him for his life and he'd think that every time he talks it's boring? That or he figured out I was just staring at him the entire time then he'll reject me before I can even tell him I like him-- "Yeah," I agreed with a chuckle.

"Well, I'm glad," he replied, standing up and giving me a curt nod. "I'll see you after school then."

"Wait! What?" I called back hurriedly, pouncing off the bench as he spun around.

"My house?" he repeated. His eyes narrowed. "I'll give you a ride after school today to my house so we can start that project. I think in class we're reviewing for the quiz," he began a bit off topic, "I'll pick you up." He turned around and strolled down to the next hallway.

Do I react now? Or later? Did he say he was gonna drive me? Holy shit, I'm breathing, right?

The bell resounded through the school and all the students scurried every which way before the late bell sounded. I, like many students, quickly walked through the hallway, now beginning to empty, and turned down the first class on my right. Congratulating myself for making it before the actual bell to start first period was heard.

I glanced at the chalkboard to see what we had to do and there it was written;

'Pick a partner and work on the packet that was assigned Tuesday :)'

Before I could even think straight, I ambled to the very back of the classroom since Teacher Leon never cared enough to actually teach.

Play it off cool...

"I need the desk, Kid," I punctuated and the nerdy kid with glasses leapt up. "Please! Sorry!" I apologized with haste. "I'm not mean. I've always wanted to be a bully in another life though--thank you!" I hollered quietly as he ran to the opposing side of the classroom.

"Wow, that's hot," Victor remarked sarcastically. He was sitting at the desk behind the one I not-so-kindly demanded for. "You usually like to scare little kids away? Take their candy out of strollers and eat it in front of them?"

"Can you not make me feel bad," I laughed quietly, seating myself in the chair in front of him and craning my neck to watch him head-on. He worked on the packet mindlessly, answering calculus questions as if it were breathing.

"I need to talk to you!?" I waved my hand in front of his eyes and he steadily and glaringly raised up to look at me without moving his head.

I breathed in and announced, "you're a genius."

"I know," was all he replied with, returning to the packet.

"Except, I need more of your genius-ness."

"No."

"Please?" I begged, giving him puppy dog eyes. "You're the only one who seems to help me."

"And?" He dropped his pencil, arching his back along the chair and crossing his arms, impatiently waiting. "What will I get in return for all these favors I'm doing for you?" he urged with the solemn look etched into my eyes.

I knew exactly what he was wanting, what he was asking for, but a part of me was hoping that it was money, or maybe even food, or advice in return? Though my advice would be shit, I'd rather it that than whatever he implied.

I was ready to do things, but at the same time, not with him. I'd want it to be with Sullivan at least, but I knew in my right mind that wouldn't happen unless Victor helped me.

Over my dead body would Sullivan take my virginity without Victor helping me learn how to get him to like me! I don't think that makes sense. Er, I hope Sullivan isn't into necrophilia. That'd be awkward.

He charged lowly, appearing to be offended, "wait... what are you thinking about?"

I could feel some eyes on us as I admitted louder than expected, "necrophilia."

A wave of chatter filtered through the classroom as I watched Victor cock his head slightly in bafflement. "I mean what..." He stopped himself, questioning me. "I mean what were you thinking I was gonna make you do?" he rephrased slower.

"Oh. Makes sense."

"Yeah," he added, shaking his head and running a hand through his tousled black mop again. Another strange feeling coursed through my body. A coil of heat spun in my stomach like a pinwheel.

He lifted his arm and the leather jacket that hugged him firmly crinkled in response to the arm raise. I saw his black shredded jeans and the red patch on the side, the one Kayla swooned over.

He rolled his eyes and described quietly, "I was gonna suggest you help me with some investigating. It's nothing really, but I wouldn't go around shouting it to the world." His laughter heightened minimally.

My voice cracked as I spoke. "Where are you going with this?" I whispered, tilting my head towards his desk. Teetering them back to his brown eyes that never removed from my face. "It sounds like we really shouldn't be talking about this in school," I admitted, my heart up by my throat.

"Well, I need you to..." he started, "let's just say, you'll find out later."

"Hold on," I declared, "is this where you're taking me Saturday--"

"God no, Saturday is to help you but Sunday, you're helping me," he clarified. My body went cold with a flutter of anxiety warping my assumptions.

It's drugs, isn't it? It just has to be.

"I don't know if I'm available Sunday--" I interrupted, worried.

"Well, you can bring it up with my receptionist," he sarcastically commented, "Sunday works for me so it works for you too," he broke down, then his voice softened. "No need to look so scared, Rhy. I just need your help with a few things."

"That's what scares me," I revealed and he only chuckled, picking up his pencil and resuming his work as if nothing happened prior.

I bit my lip, gnawing on the flesh for a moment or two until I felt a sharp sting. I slapped my hand to my lip soundlessly, feeling the spot that harbored an iron rich taste which flooded my mouth, maybe not flooded, but drizzled onto my tongue. I had chewed on my lip so hard apparently out of anxiety that I was starting to bleed.

A soft and delicate hand placed itself around my wrist and a warmth filled every ounce of nerves. He looked at me with narrowed eyes and hadn't moved his lips to utter a word. He unhurriedly lowered my arm down and away from my lip, which he noticed the bleeding, but nonetheless, pointed to my desk and ordered, "I advise you to do your work. You don't wanna be doing this Sunday. On that day, you're mine."

♡♡♡

I didn't talk to Victor any longer than that and when I searched for him later that day, he already left. Rumor had it, he got suspended for the rest of the day due to fighting a sophomore in the hallways, but I must've been on the opposite side of the school when it happened.

I realized that I'd missed the perfected window of opportunity to ask him about the whole seeing Sullivan after-school thing, decidedly making me become a wreck.

I'd been to Sullivan's house two times, but those were for party occasions. This time around, we would be working together and his attention would be narrowed in on me. I drove myself up the walls with the amount of questions I asked myself between classes.

Do I smell okay? Why didn't I bring an extra toothbrush to school? Why did I have to eat a veggie sandwich for lunch? Is it stuck in my teeth? Do I have sweaty armpits?

I looked in the bathroom reflection many times and so far, I've come to the conclusion, there were no pit stains on my maroon long sleeve crop top and my black leggings weren't covered in stains or hair, and lastly, my teeth looked clean. My hair was a bit frizzy but I slapped the baby hairs down with water, applied a bit of lip gloss and mascara. Lastly, popping in a breath mint as the final touch.

I went as far as worrying about the ear wax in my ears. I clean my ears everyday, but what if he thought my ears were gross? What if he thought I was fat--

Nope!

I stopped myself before I could become insecure. Questions are valid, asking if my breath stinks is different from looking at my weight. No one, not even Sullivan, my biggest crush, could ever make me hate myself and that was something I stood by.

I followed him down the hallway at the end of ninth period. We said our goodbyes to our friends and the typical heat overwhelmed me. This was what it would be like if we'd dated, but instead, I'd ask to hold his hand if we were. I'd be tucked under his arm as we'd wave Kayla and Jay a goodbye, then head out of the hallways.

Rather at the moment, I walked a good few feet behind him.

Damn, why is he walking so fast?

When he realized he was ahead of me by a land-shot, he slowed.

Thank God, because I was out of breath by time we neared the double doors to exit.

He led me to his green BMW Z4 Roadster. I opened the passenger door and seated myself on the gray interior seat while he plopped into the driver's side after throwing his backpack over.

I situated mine by my feet. "Nice car," I complimented discomfitingly, my body tense and afraid to accidentally ruin anything.

He rubbed the steering wheel, nodding his head in reply. "Isn't she?" he chuckled, beginning to veer the car out of the parking lot. The wind cascaded along my face since there was no hood to the car. Reminding me how much I hated hanging with a person for the first time, it was always awkward.

When we arrived at the familiar dwelling, we rode up the driveway, miles from the arch at the beginning that said 'Corbett Family Home.' He parked along the side in a spherical lot and got out. Announcing suddenly while scavenging for his backpack that must've shifted under his seat, "My parents aren't home, they both work late but should be back in a little while."

"What do your parents do?" I asked, though it was intrusive, I did know nothing about him. I suddenly thought about Victor and what he would suggest I say and talk about, but I didn't have an inkling of a clue.

He stifled a laugh but I didn't know what he found funny. "Oh, you know," he continued, "Dad's a Mafia leader and my mom's his Mafia lover." After a moment of me staring at him he broke the silence. "Kidding," he said, "just kidding."

"Oh, right, I knew that!" I laughed uncomfortably, throwing my backpack over my shoulder.

"My mom's a psychiatrist and my dad's a petroleum engineer, a lot less cooler than Mafia leaders," he explained with a few chortles, beginning to walk towards the arch extended roof leading to the doors. It seemed a lot quieter in the mountains when a high school party wasn't being thrown. "What about yours?"

"My mom's a lawyer," I replied, my eyes panning over the surrounding forest, as well as the distant mountains.

He held open the door for me, but before I was able to step in, he asked, "What about your dad?"

I swallowed. "A surgeon."

Just tell him, it's that simple, but what if he pities me--Oh, Goddamnit! How does one know when the moment surpasses?

I was already walking inside while he led me to the ginormous spherical shaped living room with ivory plush couches that had at least ten cushions. The ceilings were furnished in cherry oak, arched so tall I had to crane my neck to study the few orange hued chandeliers expensively dangling from the turret crown ceiling. The rock engraved fireplace was wide with an even bigger flat screen TV screen positioned above it.

He tossed the remote to the couch. "You can put on a music channel," he offered, "I'm gonna get a drink. Do you want anything?"

"Uhh--yeah, do you have water?" I asked.

He snapped his fingers, shaking his head. "Shit, we just ran out of that."

"Oh, that's alright," I assured, beginning to walk around the beige fuzz sofa. I didn't realize anything was wrong until he spoke again.

"Kidding!" he laughed, causing my head to shoot towards him. "You gotta loosen up more. Relax."

He started walking along the extensive hallway out of my view, his thrumming shoes vanishing onto the other side of the house. I sighed and what I never thought I'd do in a million years, I did.

| (Me)

3:24 PM

Hey... I need help

Vicky |

3:25 PM

What now??

| (Me)

3:25 PM

I'm at Liv's house and he told me to relax.

How do I relax?

Vicky |

3:25 PM

Hmm... If only you came to me before you left.

I could show you how to relax ;)

I rolled my eyes, but before I could type a response to the idiot, Sullivan came strolling back into the room, carrying a bowl tucked under his elbow, one glass of water and one soda can.

I hurriedly slapped my phone to the pane of glass on the four legged table in the center, followed by a vibration coursing through the piece of furniture. I shifted over and further away when I saw Sullivan seat himself two cushions from me, but I luckily separated to make it one more.

Shit, why couldn't Victor just help me when I asked him?

"Alright," Sullivan snapped, throwing back his soda can and placing the bowl of Cheeto mix on the center of the glass coffee table. I was already sitting on the couch, noticing the obvious gap between Sullivan and I, three fat and plush cushions with a few throw pillows aside. "So, since we didn't get anything done in class. How about we do some research?"

"Sounds like a plan," I sang, cheekily grinning.

God, why am I so stupid?

He gestured to the phone on the table as it continuously vibrated. "Are you going to get that?"

I nodded frantically, reaching for it, but Sullivan swiped it off the table and handed it to me, though his eyes squinted momentarily after. "Are you texting Vislocky? Sorry I looked."

"Oh, that's fine, but it wouldn't be... if I was texting Vislocky. I was texting my... V-v-va---veterinarian." I nodded, whispering out, "yeah, that's um..." My voice raised in volume, hopefully becoming louder than his dumbfounded expression. "Not my veterinarian. I go to a pediatrician, cause I'm not eighteen yet... but I um, for my uh--" I glanced around seeing a 'bed' in the corner of the room. "Dog. F--for my dog."

He seemed to brighten up at this. "Shit, really? What breed?"

Curse my lack of knowledge on dogs! Why couldn't my mom be a pet person? Also, why can't any breed come to my mind?

I nodded, thinking before admitting to him, "one of the golden ones." I smiled stupidly. "He's a mix."

He leaned in closer, intrigued, and asked, "golden retriever? Goldendoodle? Yorkshire terrier? A cocker-spaniel? German shepherd?"

Shit, why does he know so much about dogs? I recognized some of the names, but why? Why couldn't I lie correctly? Why did everything go blank in my brain under pressure?

"He's a mix," I said confidently, "all of the goldens."

"That's so cool, you have any pictures?" he pressed, and I cursed at myself again for being so brainless.

"No, I actually just cleaned my phone out. It's uh--a new model and nothing could transfer over," I explained weakly.

Shit, he's gotta be done with this conversation already, but I forgot the only way to someone's heart is food, and pets.

"Oh, okay. Well, I will have to see him soon. I'm a huge dog person. We have two huskies," he explained, gesturing to the beds in the corner. "We did have a yorkie a while back, but he passed away sadly a few months ago."

"I'm so sorry," I replied softly, forcing a tight grimace. I was so thankful that the conversation had ended, but he quickly resumed to my dismay.

"What's your dogs' name?" he asked excitedly, genuinely happy and interested.

"Oh, the name? My dogs' name!" I exclaimed, feeling the words on my tongue for the first time. I gritted my teeth and sharply uttered, "not if you don't tell me your dogs' names first."

He chuckled lightly, drawing a hand through his hair before listing off, "names are a little weird in this family, so, Mishka and Arlo. The yorkie was named Zippy."

"That's adorable," I complimented.

I loved dogs growing up, but I never wanted to live with them. It just wasn't my cup of tea, though the only truth in the conversation was when I especially said, "I'd love to meet them sometime."

"You will then," he confirmed, "but don't think I forgot about your big guy?" he teased, quirking a brow.

"Right!" I snapped, laughing all the while.

Think of a name, Azariah! Think of a name. Why can't I think? Think! Use a brain! Come on, you have one for a reason!

I quickly scanned over his shoulder and looked at the first thing my eyes landed on, an old antique circular clock with a big moose behind the minute and big hand.

"Moose!" I yelled a bit too loud, then lowered my voice and cleared my throat professionally. "Moose, that's my dogs' name."

"Moose?" he repeated, a bit confused. "Well, we both like weird names. I love it," he joked around and I admired the way he laughed after. My heart even did a few hundred flips when he said 'love.' He then added, "Big dog, huh?"

"Very," I agreed with a few laughs. "But we should probably get this started--"

"Yeah, good idea," he chuckled lightly, beckoning a hand to the backpack by his feet. A big and long sigh of relief executed between my parted lips at the conclusion of the topic, but unfortunately the beginning of my lies.

x