I walk into the anatomy lecture hall, feeling surprisingly confident, given the circumstances. Drowning out all the low, ominous, and anxious murmurs, I walk past students who have their noses shoved in textbooks, cramming in a last minute study session, and make my way to my seat. 

Halfway up the stairs, a pair of warm brown irises catch mine and I smile, jogging just a tad bit faster to reach my seat. "Hey, Finch," I greet her once I take a seat, sitting one chair away from her since its test day.

She flashes me a nervous smile. "Ready?"

"So ready." I smirk confidently. "You better start planning out your outfit for The Library."

She rolls her eyes, pressing her lips together to suppress a smile. "Only if you get an A, remember?"

"I've got this. C'mon, Finch, have some faith in me. You are my tutor, after all," I tease.

Her eyes soften, a look in them I can't quite decipher. "I believe in you," she says sincerely.

I smile. "So, what are you going to wear?" I press, quirking a brow.

She rolls her eyes again, shaking her head in amusement. "You're impossible."

I grin, but it quickly fades when I catch rat boy walking in with Delilah, his beady little eyes shooting daggers my way.

"Where were you yesterday?" rat boy demands Olivia as soon as he makes his way to our tier of the lecture hall.

Olivia balances. "Uh, I was too busy studying for this," she says, awkwardly avoiding eye contact by pretending to look for something in her pencil bag.

"Really?" rat boy asks in a demeaning tone that makes me clinch my fists. In my opinion, he might as well should have just said bullshit. "Olivia, you know this stuff like the back of your hand, and you're telling me you blew off the Medical Honor Society meeting just to study?"

He looks at her incredulously.

She gives a weak shrug, still avoiding eye contact. "You guys were only meeting up to get coffee and discuss a few things. It was more of a social event than an actual meeting. You didn't really need me there."

"But you're the president!"

"Let it go, Quinton," Delilah says, sounding tired and annoyed.

He throws her a glare.

Wait, did Olivia skip her meeting just to tutor me?

Yesterday afternoon, Olivia and I met up in the library, cramming in a last minute study session to prepare for today's test. Our study session lasted for three hours, not including our impromptu little dinner date that I may have talked her into halfway.

Before any more questions can be asked or accusations thrown, our anatomy professor walks in and a hush falls over the classroom. Once the rules and guidelines are explained and established, tests start getting passed out.

I look over at Olivia and she gives me a soft, reassuring smile. "Good luck," she mouths, just before copies of the test are passed down our row.

I walk out of the lecture hall, feeling oddly confident. Just as I suspected, I find Olivia waiting for me, sitting on a bench down the hall. She finished her test about twenty minutes ago, but I stayed back, not rushing and triple checking my answers.

Sensing my presence, she looks up from her phone. She sits up straighter, eyes wide, anxious. "Well, how did it go?" she asks impatiently.

I let out a dramatic sigh, plopping down beside her. I practically fall on top of her, purposefully sitting halfway on her lap. Not enough to crush her, though.

"Bronx!" she squeals, playfully pushing me off.

I chuckle, scooting over to fully sit down on the bench, but I sit close enough so that our sides are pressed up against each other. Casually, I throw my arm over her shoulders, rubbing the soft fabric of her sweater between my fingers. "So I'm thinking you should wear something strapless. Maybe tease your hair a bit and throw it up into a high ponytail," I muse. "It can get pretty hot and sweaty inside the club."

She deadpans, arching a brow. "Someone is awfully confident."

I lazily grin, continuing. "Some tight leather pants would be nice, too. They're in, you know."

She gives me a bland look. "I'm a twenty-two year old girl going to a club for the first time, not a forty year old man that just bought a Harley and is going through a midlife crisis."

I laugh and give her a sharp, impish grin. "So you think you're going?"

"So you think you're my stylist?" she counters, crossing her arms over her chest, avoiding my question.

"Touché, Finch. Touché." I stand, stretching my limbs before extending my hand out to her. "But I know I aced that test, so you're going."

She suppresses a smile, accepting my outstretched hand, and I help her up. "You're going to need an A, remember?"

"You believe in me, remember?" I counter, smugly throwing her words back at her.

She bumps her shoulder against mine. "Touché."

She begins walking down the hall, her grip on my hand loosening. I can tell she's going to let go of my hand, but I don't let her pull away. I keep my grip casual but firm, my stride cool as I follow beside her hand in hand.

I feel her eyes burn down at our conjoined hands, and I sneak a quick glance at her out of the corner of my eye. Her cheeks have a noticeable blush on them, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't love that I have this sort of effect on her.

"Lunch?" I ask casually, shoving my free hand in my pocket.

She looks up at me, blinking once, processing. "Lunch? Uh, yeah, sure," she says, clearly flustered, but she still doesn't pull away. She shyly holds my hand all the way to the cafeteria.

Formaldehyde hangs in the air, the dead rats on the tables covered with wet paper towels to prevent them from drying out, making this look like a weird episode of CSI or some shit.

"Class, I have your tests from yesterday. When I call your name, please come up and I will hand them to you," Tracy instructs, pulling a large stack of tests out of her colorful tote bag.

Tracy begins reading off names and I glance at Olivia, who looks nervous.

Chairs scrape against the floor one-by-one as students go up to collect their tests. Olivia's name is the seventh one to be called, and she stands to go grab her test from Tracy, followed by rat boy and Delilah shortly after.

"Pearson," Tracy calls, and Adrianna stands to go grab her test.

As soon as Adrianna's hands grasp the paper, Tracy calls out my name. I stand up, slowly walking to Tracy to try to avoid Adrianna. But Adrianna deliberately walks slower, forcing me to walk past her. She purposefully brushes up against me, sending me a flirtatious smile. You'd think after dodging all of her texts she'd finally give up, but no.

I don't react, breezing past her to grab my test, my heartbeat nervously kicking up a notch. I take my test from Tracy, quickly glancing at my grade, and my heart sinks.

No fucking way.

My shock, disbelief, and disappointment quickly bleed into anger. Fuming, my hands clinch, wrinkling the paper a bit. I turn on my heel and trudge back to my seat, avoiding Olivia's stare. I take a seat, shoving my test under my lab manual so no one can see, and try my best to leash my temper.

"Bronx?" Olivia asks softly, hesitantly.

"Not right now, Finch," I state blatantly, refusing to look at her, and she immediately backs off. I don't mean to be so rude and abrupt, but I know if I don't have a minute to cool down I'm going to lose it.

For the rest of the lab period, Olivia lets me simmer in my sour mood. She lets me be, and as soon as Tracy dismisses class I'm packing up my stuff and leaving in record time.

"Bronx, wait!" I hear Olivia call after me.

Eventually she catches up, rounding me and placing her hand on my chest to stop me. I stop, not wanting to bulldoze her over.

She looks up at me, her warm brown eyes questioning and vulnerable. "Talk to me. What was your score?"

My eyes bore into hers, and for a moment I see a glimmer of hope behind them. I can tell there's a part of her that thinks I'm faking her out—like I did last time.

Silently, without taking my eyes off of hers, I shrug off my backpack and reach inside, handing her my crinkled up test. She takes it, hesitantly tearing her gaze away from mine to look at my score. I watch as a dozen emotions scroll across her face, her expression morphing from shock, to disbelief, to excitement, finally landing on confusion.

"Bronx, you got an 89%! That's amazing!" she exclaims excitedly, showing me my score, as if I misunderstood.

"Yeah, an 89%," I reiterate bitterly. "Which means I'm one percent—just one fucking percent—off."

Wow, who would have thought six months ago I would be the type to get this upset if I didn't get the grade I wanted. Half the time, I didn't even care if I passed or failed. Just as long as I could keep my grades afloat, high enough to play football, that's all I cared about.

And to miss the mark by one percent. One fucking percent. A part of me thinks I would be less mad if I absolutely failed.

Her face falls in realization, and she stares back down at my paper, as if the score will somehow magically change. She quickly flips through my test, scanning my answers. "You sill did really well," she says, trying to be encouraging, but I see the disappointment on her face. It kind of surprises me.

"Yeah, but I still came up short," I mutter.

She frowns. "I'm really proud of you, though. This is an amazing score."

I shrug one shoulder, still disappointed and angry at myself.

Olivia lets out a sigh, her eyes drifting down to my paper and back up at me. "Look, what if I make you a deal?"

I look at her skeptically. "What kind of deal?"

"If you can tell me why you got the answers wrong and correct them during our next study session, I'll go with you to The Library," she offers.

"Seriously?" I ask, surprised, my mood instantly lifting.

She gives me a timid smile. "Yes."

I break out into a full grin. She basically just agreed to go with me, even though I didn't quite get the grade she required me to.

"Admit it, Finch," I drawl teasingly, slinging my arm around her shoulders and steering her down the hallway. "You wanted to go with me all along."

"Hardly," she mutters, but I can tell she's biting back a smile.

"So I'm thinking heels. The sexy, strappy kind."

"You're pushing it," she warns in a singsong voice.

"Miniskirt?" I press teasingly.

She lets out an exasperated groan. "Don't make me regret this."

Hi, friends!

Looks like Olivia is going clubbing! lol

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