Chapter Nine: First Errand 4

Rhea's POV

"I can't believe he's making you do this." Elz fell into step beside me as we moved through the hall after class. "Now I support the saying never judge a book by its cover. From afar, he's so hot, but deep down he's a jerk."

I swallowed without saying anything. His words had been ringing in my head through every single class that day, tangled up with what Cleo had said to me yesterday. I had told Elz I had another errand to run, and she hadn't been able to hide how annoyed that made her.

"Ricky's the big jerk. Jiles is more cool than him." I found myself saying, finding some strange type of relief saying it out.

If he hadn't opened his mouth to talk to me at all, Jiles would have had no reason to speak to me the way he had. Maybe we would even had talked properly. Maybe he would have taken the tea without all of that.

"No. I think Ricky is more cool."

I turned to look at her properly with my eyebrows halfway up, genuinely thrown that she had said that. Ricky's reputation was no news to everyone in school.

She shrugged. "What?"

I just shook my head as we reached the senior locker room, already scanning the rows, quick to spot his name near the end.

"You know you can actually talk to me.”

"I'm just surprised you're defending a guy who changes girls like socks." I met her eyes, working the combination. "But I guess we can't control who we like, can we."

She bit her lip and nodded slowly. "I don't know. I just think he's not that bad. I'm not crushing on him though. Just to be clear."

"You think you don't?"

"No, I don't. Now stop looking at me like that." She was laughing even as she said it, and I smiled right along with her.

The locker popped open and I pushed the door back. It was packed full of hockey posters, a spare pair of gloves shoved in sideways, and a folded jersey that smelled like sweat.

His wallet sat wedged between a water bottle and a stack of protein bars. I pulled it out and counted through the bills for his lunch, but I left out the amount I had spent on his pills. For some reason, I didn't have the heart to take that back from him. I'm just worried about him.

"Does this look right to you?" I held the cash out. "For a Gatorade and fries and sausage."

She squinted at it and nodded. "Should be more than enough."

I tucked his wallet back into place and went to get his lunch. I asked Elz to wait for me at the cafeteria, texted him where he was, and his reply came back a minute later. Class 14.

I swallowed the lump sitting in my throat the whole walk over, bracing myself to face him again after how things had ended that morning.

When I pushed the door open, he was the only one inside, bent over a notebook, pen moving steady across the page. A few chairs sat pulled down from their desks.

I walked in, eyes fixed on him, and set the bag down on his table.

"I didn't know the flavor you wanted, so I got the zero sugar one. Thought you might like it." I watched his pen pause for half a second before continuing on without him even looking up.

He just tipped his chin toward the chair adjacent to him. I sat down carefully, my heart climbing at how close that put us. He stopped writing then, reached into his bag, and pulled out a stack of books, sliding them across to me.

"You're writing the next four pages. That's your lunch." He nodded toward the bag I had brought.

My eyes went wide. "What. I'm writing your notes for you?"

He finally looked up. "Is that a no?"

"I just think it's not really appropriate." I searched his face for some kind of reaction. "For someone to write your notes for you."

He held my gaze a beat too long before looking away again. "You're starting on page ten."

I sat there stiff, still processing how he seemed to care about not wasting words on an actual answer. I pushed the fries toward him anyway, trying to sound casual.

"I don't like fries without sauce. You could eat this while we write.”

He didn't glance up. "Leave it, then."

My stomach twisted slightly. "What about the sausage? I actually like making sausages, so you can have that. I will just take the fries." I dug through the small paper bag and held it out toward him.

That got him to look up. "What part of that's your lunch didn't you understand?"

My chest sank at how sharp that came out. But I didn't want to give him any more reason to say what he had said to me earlier, so I kept my voice even.

"I understand you. But that means you're not eating anything for lunch, and I don't want that. We're going to be here a while together. Let's just eat."

My heart pounded louder, watching his eyes drop to the sausage still held out between us. He didn't take it.

He opened his mouth like he was about to say something, and for the first time since I had known him, he actually hesitated.

"Do you have it on you?"

My brows pulled together. "Have what?"

He looked away, and I watched his throat move as he swallowed. "The sleeping tea."

My eyes went wide behind my glasses, my stomach doing something complicated.

"Yes. I mean, not right now, but I can go get it. Just give me a second, I will be…" I was already halfway out of my seat.

"Don't bother." He went back to his notes like the question had never happened.

My shoulders dropped. "What?"

"You can give it to me after practice." He said it so casually that it took several seconds to fully register.

Is he inviting me to his practice?

My hand flew up to cover my mouth on instinct, a grin already threatening to break through before I could stop it, and that was exactly when he shot me a look sharp enough to make me drop my hand and wipe the expression clean off my face.

I picked up the pen and flipped the notebook open to page ten.

A minute later I looked up again. "You never said anything about wanting the sausage."

He didn't pause, didn't look at me, kept writing like I hadn't spoken at all. That should have been my cue to let it go. It wasn't.

I slid the Gatorade across to him instead. "I prefer the orange one," I said, setting it down directly in front of him without waiting for permission.

Then I started writing, eating the sausage and fries. The quiet that settled between us actually felt comfortable, right up until the bell rang. I was only halfway through the pages when he started packing up his bag.

"I will have it done before your practice ends," I said quickly, and he nodded once, already standing.

He arranged his books inside his bag and slung it over one shoulder, grabbed the Gatorade off the table and cracked it open.

My eyes widened slightly watching him take a long drink of it, his gaze steady on me the whole time.

"Be at the rink after the final bell." He said it like a fact, and I nodded immediately before he looked away and walked out.

My heart wouldn't slow down for a long time after that. He barely said anything most of the time, and somehow that only made him seem cooler.

I bit my lip, covered my face with both hands, and grinned into my palms with my stomach completely full of butterflies.