In Waves | ✔️

05 | nerves and honey

News of Rachel's party is dancing on everyone's lips by the end of the day. All she had to do was tell Kristy Landry for it to spread like wildfire, sort of like the STD rumor that went around about Carter last year. Kristy spread that one as fast as, well, an STD.

I'm pacing the halls in search of Rob, dodging the stragglers eager to get out of here like they've been imprisoned for months. I turn yet another corner, peering into empty classrooms before I catch a glimpse of Mr. Clarke at his desk. His hand dips into the cookie packet I gave him earlier, fishing one out and giving a hearty bite while he reads.

I haven't actually had a class with him yet, but I made all of my cookie deliveries today. I guess I am quite literally buttering them up as a precaution. He takes a sip from his mug and I keep walking so he doesn't catch me creeping.

Rob trying to bail on restaurant work is typical, but Mom made a point of getting him there today. And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't chomping at the bit to throw my party attending decision in his face, too.

Jogging down the entrance steps, I immediately meet two clear blue skies at the bottom. "Matt!"

"Hey, I was looking for you," he says, and I'm almost blinded by that megawatt smile. Or maybe it's the beginning signs of a stroke about to occur from being looked at so intently by Matt Benson.

"You were?"

"Yeah, I missed you at lunch."

I tug at my backpack straps, dropping my attention to his spotless white sneakers. Truth is, agreeing to go to a party is a lot easier than making moves in the moment. It's still four days away. But seeing Matt and his rowdy friends in the cafeteria was like being zapped by a taser.

The unnerving thought of joining them drove me straight to the music room, a comfortable shell for me to hide in. And here I am wanting to brag to Rob about getting out of that shell. Pathetic.

"I usually eat lunch in the quad," I respond. That might not have been the case today, but it's true.

The cafeteria is loud, stuffy, and it always smells like stale oil and beans. Why would I subject myself to that when I could be sitting in the fresh air with the sound of either, A: mine and Rachel's frivolous conversations about nothing and everything, or B: my pen scraping in a notebook, accompanied by the rustling leaves of an oak tree while I eat alone in peace.

"Then I guess I'm eating lunch in the quad tomorrow," he says, sweeping my eyes to his shining ones.

I have a feeling he knows I was hiding out, and his lack of pressure in getting me to jump right into his group makes me like him even more. If that's possible.

"It's a date," I say, instantly panicked. "I mean, a lunch date. Casual."

"Sounds good."

I tuck loose strands of hair behind my ears. "Have you seen my brother around? He's my ride."

"Oh." He nods to his left, his lips twitching like he's fighting a smile. "Sure have."

I look past a knot of people, over the grass and to the unseemly sight of Rob in an aggressive game of tonsil tennis with Clara Booker. Pawing at her body, pressing her up against the building as if he's trying to push her straight through that brick wall. He may as well be sucking her face clean off.

"Jesus," I mutter, ripping my eyes from the scene.

"First day." Matt slips his hands in his jacket pockets. "He works pretty fast, huh?" I lightly slap his arm and he laughs, feigning hurt. "Where're you going? I can give you a ride."