When In Rome ► Timothée Chalamet

20 | The Rivalry

Y/N

_

"Professor Enzo?" I said, approaching his desk, "è completato."

I set the finished essay on his desk, a wave of satisfaction passing over me. I saw students start to file in, and I tapped my foot against the tiled ground. Enzo looked up from his file cabinet, his eyes brightening slightly with interest.

Without saying anything, the man picked the assignment up and scanned it quickly, his eyes flitting back and forth down the page. His lips were pursed into a line, and his pupils glazed over, making it hard to tell what he was thinking. He flipped through the rest of the pages, before setting it back down on the table.

"I assume you'll be paying attention in this class?" He inquired, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

I nodded my head, goosebumps trailing up my skin. To say I was nervous was an understatement, because getting back on Enzo's good side was important if I wanted to raise my grade. His expression was still blank, which put me on edge.

"Perfezione," he said, finally, "it was perfect."

"Pardon?"

"Your essay. It was excellent. I can see you still have the dedication to take my class."

"Yes, sir."

"Continue to put that effort in everything you do," he directed, "and I will look into raising your grade."

"Grazie, professore," I said, before rushing back to my seat.

I couldn't help but have a smile on my face for the rest of class, my heart bubbling with excitement. I wanted to see the look on Elliot's face when I told him Enzo thought my essay was perfect! As the bell for lunch neared closer and closer, I found myself participating more than ever. With every question the professor asked, I knew the answer, my hand whipping into the air just as fast as any of the other men in the class. I was on fire, as one would say.

As soon as I heard the metallic ring from the hallway, I grabbed my bag and sped off towards the courtyard. I didn't have anyone to meet, but I wanted to throw a tiny, celebratory lunch for my success in the class. Well, not entirely success, but an enormous improvement from the past month. Taking out the Caprese sandwich Elliot had made me this morning, I laid down a napkin on the stone bench I was sitting on.

"y/n?"

I glanced up, a little surprised someone had addressed me. I had eaten alone for a couple weeks now, and I didn't expect anyone to start a conversation.

Unless that person was Percy.

"Oh, hey," I said bluntly, my head spiraling with confusion.

In this whole time since that day in the hallway, the only interactions we've had were sideways glances across the room. Without hesitation, I shoved my sandwich in my mouth, hopeful he'd get the hint I wasn't into small talk. I mean, I was open to a conversation, but considering the fact that he seemed strangely aggressive to Timothee and I, it was better to keep it short.

"I know we left things off on a bad note," he said, inching towards the open space in front of me, "but I've decided to tell you the truth."

Wiping a few stray crumbs off of my mouth, I dragged my napkin closer to me to let him sit down. I suppose the right thing to do is to be nice, at least, no matter what the topic was about.

"About what?" I asked, tapping my finger against my knee.

"About why I disapprove of you and Timothee."