3. Everett

Everett (Steal My Girl by One Direction)

In the blink of an eye, it's Monday again.

I couldn't sleep well last night. I kept tossing and turning and my mind was everywhere at once.

This morning, I made Amelia ride back to campus with me.

By force, of course.

"I can take the bus," she protested the second I showed up at her front door.

"You're my maid, remember?" I said, opening the passenger door. "You're required to stay within three feet of me at all times."

She glared at me like she was imagining twenty different ways to kill me.

But it was very worth it, because I actually learned two things on that drive.

One: Amelia Hart has the attention span of a goldfish. She spent ten minutes arguing with me, then another twenty singing along to songs she barely knew the lyrics to.

Two: she commutes from Westside to campus almost every day.

I hadn't known that.

The girl has a talent for disappearing the second her classes end. Never hangs around campus. Never joins group conversations. Never attends parties.

She just… vanishes.

Which makes sense, I guess.

Right now, she's trudging behind me with two backpacks, hers slung over her back, mine hanging across her chest, and my volleyball bag dragging down one of her shoulders.

I glance over my shoulder and smirk. The weight's slowing her down.

"Three feet," I remind her.

She shoots me a murderous glare but reluctantly closes the distance.

Good girl, Hart.

I almost laugh, but I keep it in.

When we reach my locker, I take my things from her, and she lets out the biggest sigh of relief, rolling one shoulder before rubbing the back of her neck.

"I'll see you later, Hart." I close my locker, then add casually, "And don't forget. When I text, you answer within milliseconds."

She salutes dramatically. "Noted, Captain."

Then she's gone. Just like that.

I watch her disappear into the sea of students, a small smile playing on my lips.

She really doesn't like being seen with me, I've noticed.

Too bad, Hart.

You're going to have to get used to it.

***

Exercise Physiology II is my first class.

Like always… slow and boring. Maybe even more boring today.

Girls keep stealing glances my way. As always.

One winks. Another waves…

I ignore all of them. As always.

Instead, I find myself checking the clock every few minutes.

The second it hits twelve, I'm out of there.

"Dude!"

Harper catches up with me outside the lecture hall.

"You seriously left without me this morning?" He slings an arm around my shoulders. "What gives?"

"I had something to do."

His eyes narrow. "Something?"

"Yeah."

He studies me for a second, then snorts. "Screw you, bud."

I laugh.

He'd still been asleep when I left this morning. If he'd been awake, the three of us probably would've driven to campus together. I could have woken him...

Instead… I left with Amelia.

For no reason. None whatsoever.

That's what I tell myself, anyway.

We head to the next lecture hall.

My parents spend most of their time at their place in Southside because of work, so our house in Westside is usually just mine. Whenever I decide to go home for a night or two, mostly to clean, Harper sometimes tags along. The others do too, occasionally. Cole and Spencer.

The rest of the time, we stay at Oakswood, only a few minutes from campus.

"Hey, buds!" Spencer throws up a hand as Harper and I walk in.

Cole's already seated beside him. We exchange handshakes before dropping into the empty seats next to them.

"The weekend must've been boooring without me around, huh?" Spencer sighs dramatically, his gaze shamelessly following a girl walking past.

I snort. "It was peaceful. No Spencer around to burn the house down with his ridiculous shenanigans."

He clutches his chest. "That hurt."

"As it should."

Harper barks out a laugh while Cole shakes his head. "You two are hopeless."

While they bicker, I pull out my phone and glance at the time.

Again.

For absolutely no reason.

"Bro." Harper nudges me. "You expecting someone?"

"No."

"Liar."

"I'm not."

He gives me a look that says sure.

Before he can keep digging, the lecturer walks in and I'm saved.

***

Biomechanics ends a little over an hour later.

The second the lecturer dismisses us, I'm on my feet.

"Boys. Practice."

None of them complain. Volleyball always comes first. It has become part and parcel of us. It's the bane of our existence.

A grin creeps onto my face as I pull out my phone.

My locker. Now.

I hit send, imagining Hart glaring at her phone.

Ridiculously satisfying.

By the time we swing by the locker rooms, she's already waiting outside, looking like she'd rather be anywhere else on the planet.

"Hart."

Her head snaps toward me, and the frown she sends my way could probably kill plants.

I crook two fingers as I walk past her. "Come here."

She trudges over with the enthusiasm of someone heading to her own execution.

A silent snort escapes me, and I pull a twenty-dollar bill from my wallet.

"Five bottles of water." I pause. "Hurry."

She snatches the money without a word and marches off.

The second she's out of earshot, all three idiots turn to stare at me.

Cole blinks. "You're talking to your neighbor? The quiet one?"

"The mute one?" Spencer says.

"She's not mute."

Three pairs of brows rise.

"And she's my maid for the week."

Silence.

"…What?" All three chorus in perfect unison.

I smirk and pull open my locker. "You'll survive without the details."

By the time we're changed and ready to head out of the locker room, Hart comes jogging back, breathing a little harder than before. She hands each of us a bottle, then twists the cap off the spare and drinks it herself.

Smart girl.

I casually place my volleyball bag on her shoulder, earning a scowl.

"Thanks for helping my friends and me study last week, Griffin," a freshman smiles at me, and I smile back.

I glance at Hart and she has surprised written all over her face.

Funny.

"Let's go."

Her eyes narrow. She sighs dramatically before slinging the slipping bag over her shoulder properly.

Ignoring the amused looks my friends keep throwing our way, I lead the walk toward the court.

Four volleyball players, and one unwilling maid trailing behind...

For some reason… I don't hate the picture.

I like it.

***

When we arrive, Hart helps herself to a seat on the bleachers. Her eyes sweep across the court with unconcealed excitement, sparkling like a kid who's just been dropped into an amusement park.

Cute.

While the boys and I head straight onto the court. Coach is already here, so there's no time to fool around. The rest of the team is here too.

Practice begins immediately.

Serve. Receive. Spike. Block.

Again.

Again, and,

Again.

Every now and then, my eyes drift toward the stands, only to find that Hart isn't looking at me.

She's watching everything. The footwork. The rotations. The setters' hand placement. Even Coach Reynolds. Like she's trying to memorize every single movement.

Interesting.

I knew she liked volleyball.

I just didn't realize she loved it.

"Hart!"

She startles, nearly dropping the notebook she's somehow pulled out.

I hide my grin. "Water."

She hurries over, shoves a bottle into my hand, and jogs back to the sidelines.

Five minutes later—

"Hart!"

She looks up with an expression that clearly says, What now?

"Towel."

She grabs one with an exaggerated sigh and tosses it at me.

It smacks me square in the face, and the guys burst into laughter.

"Nice throw, Maid!" Spencer hollers.

"I was aiming for his mouth," Hart mutters.

Oh, wow.

My lips twitch.

A little later—

"Hart."

She doesn't even look up anymore.

Instead, she blindly holds out a bottle.

I blink. "…"

"How'd you know I wanted water?"

"You've called my name eight times. I've been counting. So, I know it's water you want. So. Here."

Harper doubles over laughing. "Bro, she's literally keeping stats on your bossiness."

Cole shakes his head. "That's actually insane."

I take the bottle anyway.

"…That makes it nine."

She stares at me, clearly irritated, then mouths something that very much looks like asshole.

I almost laugh out loud.

It's only the first day, and I'm pretty sure Amelia Hart hates me even more than she did two days ago. Apparently, the hate keeps growing.

Oddly enough… I don't mind at all. Not even a bit.

***

Amelia

This guy's such a jerk, and I'm gon' punch him in the face real soon.

Don't beg me.