You Are the Shell to My Tortoise | ✓

68

After a while, his arms around me slackened a little, but I refused to let go of him.

"Um..." he said, when it became evident that I had no intention of releasing him.

"Let's just stay like this for a little longer," I said, burrowing my head deeper into his soft hoodie.

"Okay."

We let the next several seconds pass without speaking.

Then he said, "Your hair smells great."

"Thanks," I mumbled. "You still smell nicer, though."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"Nah."

As if to prove a point, he proceeded to bury his face into my hair and make a big show of inhaling deeply. The action tickled me a little, causing a tiny shiver to roll down my neck.

He hummed. "Perfect. You smell a bit like green tea."

That was the fragrance of my shampoo, and it in no way smelled nicer than Nolan's hoodie did.

"Do you even have a nose?" I demanded.

"Yes, and it works way better than yours, so I know that I'm right," he said.

Oh, yeah, I forgot about that.

"Nope," I said. "It's not my problem if you can't tell that you have an objectively better scent than me, even with your super sensitive nose."

"Can sense of smell really be objective, though?"

Too lazy to argue my point anymore, I responded with a hum.

We lapsed back into comfortable silence. Nolan started to stroke my hair. If I were a cat, I would have purred right then and there.

Eventually, I said, "Hey."

"Hey," he replied.

"Why do you have a fake last name?" Why did I feel like I was missing something?

"To lose any affiliation with my father while I'm in this school."

"Why do you need to lose your affiliation with him?" The feeling that I was missing some important detail persisted.

"It doesn't look good on him if his son always sleeps in class and skips gym all the time," he said. "He is the principal, you know."

"But you can't help it! It's not like you want to sleep—you have to."

"Yeah, he knows that, but the teachers don't. How do you expect him to tell the teachers about me, anyway?"

"I guess I can see what you mean."

There was no way they wouldn't freak out. I couldn't imagine Miss Wheeler or Mr. Jameson taking that particular piece of news well.

"But isn't it a bit ... cold to pretend that you're not related?" I said. "I mean, nobody else knows."

"It's working out well so far. It's the easiest when teachers send me to the principal's office. I just sit there reading a book or something for fifteen minutes. Everyone assumes that I got a lecture and thinks that the principal is so kind and understanding towards a troubled student for not throwing me out of the school. It's a win-win."

I hesitated. "Troubled student?"

"Since I got sent to the principal's office so often, my father tried to win me sympathy points so that they wouldn't expect too much of me. They don't know the details, but most of the teachers know that I took a gap year from school after my mother passed away before transferring here."