IMPORTANT

Welcome back, my loves!

I know this took ages — believe me, my other ongoing story, Killer Instinct, has also been paused for months and I apologise for that. I recently came down with a pretty bad case of covid (my first time, actually) which took a lot out of me, and along with house renovations and catching up with work... Long story short, life hasn't been easy. But, as is always the case with my stories, I always like to finish what I'm working on.

So here is the next chapter of No Sparks Required! Now this chapter is actually not like the others – it's both new and old, at the same time. Back in 2016 when I intended to rewrite No Sparks Required, I retitled it Had to be You and revamped the plot.

Looking back on my drafts, I found the plot very solid — I personally like it a lot! Which isn't something I say often about my stories. And I want to share it with you, because it's very unique compared to my recent works.

So in this chapter and moving forward, I will be combining both the original version of No Sparks Required and the revamped plot of Had to be You, written in my current style of writing. I sincerely hope you like it, and thank you so much for your patience!

x Noelle

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T H R E E

a c t i v a t i o n

The process of making a substance chemically or catalytically active.

AS MUCH AS it pains me to admit, avoiding Shane isn't as easy as it should be. Apart from the occasional run-ins we have at school, our moms make us bring food over to each other's houses every weekend. They have a strange, long-lasting friendship that I like to call a 'barter trade'. One week Shane will be over with a casserole made by his mom Vicky, and the next it's my turn to visit with a box of éclairs bought by my mom.

This Saturday isn't any different. It's Shane's turn this week to bring his mum's food over, while I'm supposed to be at the mall with Tamara. But since he doesn't show up, Mom makes me bring a cheesecake over and find out if Shane's fallen ill or something.

Highly unlikely, if you ask me. If he truly has fallen ill, then it's probably to a bout of laziness.

Still, I find myself heading across the road to his house anyway. Better safe than sorry, I guess. I might not be the biggest fan of Shane freaking Corelli, at least I care enough to make sure that he's not on his death bed or something. But as I draw near to the front porch, I stop short in my tracks.

Oh, boy. Is that Delilah Reynolds?

I have to suppress the urge to sigh. Every school comes with a cliché of the hot, blonde cheerleader with a flair for the dramatic and a condescending attitude to boot, and Delilah Reynolds currently holds the title for that. I don't hate her or anything, but I really don't want to go through the trouble of having a conversation with her. It's ten in the freaking morning, and she's standing outside Shane Corelli's house. That could range from anything between a simple friendly visit to a weekend date.

Not that I particularly care either way.

I turn on my heel, ready to leave and drop by later (much, much later), when a sudden 'pssst!' stops me. I blink and look around, only to see...a whiteboard. A portrait-sized whiteboard dancing about in the bushes beside the Corelli's house, to be exact. And that shade of chestnut brown hair peeking out from behind is unmistakable.

"Psst, Bev!"

I narrow my eyes at the talking whiteboard. "If you're trying out Halloween costumes, this looks super uninspired. I think devil horns and a tail will suit you a lot better."

"Shh, not so loud! Get over here!"

"I'm not going anywhere if you're naked behind that thing."

"I'm not naked, will you just get—"

A long tanned arm grabs hold of my sleeve and yanks me behind the white board. It's just in time, too, because there's the click, click, click of high heels coming down the driveway. "Shane? Sha—ane!" Delilah's voice echoes round the corner, but fortunately for him, she doesn't come any closer. And unfortunately for me, I'm left to gawk in dismay at the sight before me.

"You are naked, you liar—"

Shane hastily clasps a hand over my mouth, dragging me further into the bushes with him. "Will you keep your voice down?" he hisses, his breath hot in my ear. "And no, I'm not!"

"One piece of clothing does not make you anywhere near decently dressed."

"What's the big deal? It's not like you haven't seen me in boxers before."

"I— that was years ago, and that's not the point!" I sputter, tugging his hand away from my mouth. My cheeks are aflame, and it's everything I can do to pretend like his proximity isn't affecting me. I want to push him away, but that would mean my hands on his bare chest, and that's not happening anytime soon. "What're you even doing? What's with the whiteboard? And where the hell are your clothes?"

"Damn, you really are fixated on my clothes, or lack thereof, huh?" Shane remarks in amusement, but one look at my unimpressed face and his smirk quickly fades. "Okay, I was rudely awoken this morning by the incessant ringing of my doorbell. Turns out that Delilah has gotten it into her head somehow that she needs help for her Chemistry class, and I'm apparently the best person to turn to. I guess I can understand why, since I'm really smart, you know."

"And modest, too."

"Yep. Too bad for her though, I'm not interested in tutoring anyone. So I climbed out of the window – not naked, mind you – and I've been hiding here for the past ten minutes. I know it's my turn to bring my mom's food over to your place, but I can't get back inside until Delilah leaves."

"Okay, but why can't you just tutor her? The sooner you get this done, the quicker you can get back inside and put on some clothes."

"Do you really think it's going to be a one-time thing? No, once I'm done teaching her today, she'll want to meet again tomorrow. And the day after that. And then in school, and at the gym, and on the field, and – " He pinches the bridge of his nose like he's getting a headache just thinking about it. "I've heard through the grapevine that she might have a thing for me, plus she's been following me around a lot more lately. And you want me to go and greet her looking like this?"

There's a light flush on his cheeks and he looks, dare I say it, embarrassed. It's an incredibly, endearingly boyish look on him. Suddenly, we're fifteen again and confessing how each of us has never had our first kiss. On the cheek doesn't count. I wrench my eyes away and focus on the grass patch beside us.

There's a beat of silence, before Shane goes and ruins it by opening his mouth again. "Come on, can you look at me and say even you wouldn't want a piece of this?" he drawls, gesturing grandly to himself.

I immediately break into a scowl. Trust him to ruin the moment. "The only piece I want is the cake that your mom made which I can smell from all the way over here. And now I can't have it because you're too afraid to go back into your own house." I huff and climb to my feet, dusting my shorts down. "Well, I'm off. I've got better things to do than hide from Delilah Reynolds with you."

"No, don't go! I thought we were having fun."

"What fun? Being stuck in the bushes and having my toes bitten off by ants, with a naked boy holding me hostage on a Saturday? No, thanks."

Shane's lips curl into a smug grin. "It really bothers you that I'm only in my boxers, huh?"

I shoot him a deathly glare and stomp away. Just as I'm about to leave, I turn back around, curiosity getting the better of me. "What's with the whiteboard? You never said anything about it."

Shane blinks, before he laughs. "Oh, this old thing? I got it from a friend. He wasn't using it so I had him leave it here. Good thing, too, because now I get to hide behind it."

I stare at him for a moment longer, before I shake my head. What he does is really none of my business. "You're so weird," the words slip out before I can stop myself. I immediately turn on my heel to leave, hoping that he didn't catch what I said. But he does anyway, and his reply, laced with an air of nostalgia, is carried by the wind.

"Been awhile since I heard that one."

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With Chemistry lessons held only twice a week, it's inevitable that I have to meet Shane on Mondays and Fridays. But come Friday morning, I realise that Shane's the least of my problems when I get called in by my Chemistry teacher.

"Look, Beverly," Mr Richards cuts to the chase as soon as I take a seat opposite him in his office. "I'm quite concerned about how you're faring in class. If there's anything you don't understand, you simply have to speak up."

I fiddle with my fingers – a habit I have when I'm nervous. "Um, then I'll be speaking up quite a lot, Mr Richards. There's a lot I don't really understand."

He frowns. "You'll have to catch up with the class. You're quite good at your other subjects, but Chemistry pulls your grade average down."

I keep silent. It'd be nice if I could drop the subject completely. I consider asking him that, but then decide against it. Mr Richards will probably kick up a fuss if I do. Plus I've spent the better half of senior year taking Chemistry. Might as well see it all the way through.

"That's why I'm going to suggest something," he continues when I don't say anything. His smile is bright, too bright, and my heart sinks. This can't be good news. I can already see the knife's edge in his smile. "I'll have one of your classmates tutor you. Someone who's well ahead of everyone else. What do you think of Shane Corelli?"

"What? No!" I yelp, then blush at my outburst. Really, this is too much! It's one thing to sit next to Shane twice a week, and have him constantly breathe down my neck with his dumb science jokes. But to have him tutor me? I'd probably have nightmares about him having his ion me.

Oh, no, and now I'm using his stupid puns on myself. See how disastrous this would be?

"I mean, given Shane Corelli's extremely busy schedule – what with his advanced classes, and being the star on the soccer team and all, he probably wouldn't have time for me," I say as sweetly as I can. "Perhaps someone else...?"

Mr Richards starts tapping his pen on the table. Please, please let it be someone else, I think, clasping my hands together beneath the table. Hell, I'd even settle for a tutor like Heather.

"Well then, how about Brendan Orland?" Mr Richards suggests at last.

I mull over his suggestion. I've seen Brendan around school before, and from the looks of it, he seems like a nice guy. Just like Shane, he's also on the soccer team. And since he's not in any remedial classes, he must be pretty smart.

"Okay!" I agree with a smile. Better Brendan than Shane, anyway. My first choice would've been Tamara, but I guess Mr Richards must've seen us chatting often enough to know that we're bad influences on each other. "Thanks, Mr Richards."

He dismisses me with a big smile that's usually reserved for his prized students. I leave his office, feeling like a pretty prized student myself. It's a feeling that lasts all through first period, until I reach the chemistry lab and get elbowed out of the way by Heather Fischer.

I barely hold back a muffled curse when I slam right into the door. Fortunately, the books I'm holding against my chest are there to bolster the collision, or I'd be sporting some pretty nasty bruises. I flinch at the sharp pain on my foot, and brace a hand on the door to steady myself.

"Are you blind?" Heather snaps over her shoulder. "Watch where you're going!"

I roll my eyes, but being the prized student that I am, I don't bother picking a fight. There's no use anyway – she's already halfway across the lab, making a beeline for the seats in the back.

"Sha—ane!"

I wince at her loud, nasally call. Honestly, is it a trend to whine his name like that? First Delilah, and now Heather. From across the lab, I can tell that Shane's a bit unnerved by it as well, judging from the wary look on his face. I hobble over at a much slower pace. It's a good thing Tamara isn't here yet, or who knows what she'll do if she saw how Heather pushed me.

" – wanted you to tutor her, she even waited all morning but you weren't in." I manage to catch the tail end of Heather's conversation with him as I draw closer. "And now you're avoiding me as well? Mr Richards says that if I can't pull my average up, then I can't join the cheer competitions next month. You have to help me!"

Ah. Seems like Mr Richards is rounding up the few black sheep in all of his classes. It feels a little disheartening to know that my Chemistry grades are similar to Heather and Delilah's, but it's also nice to know that I'm not the only one he's targeting.

"I don't think I can, Heather," Shane says, calm as ever. "Like I told Delilah earlier, I'd love to help, but I'm afraid I'm far too busy at the moment. You know freshman tryouts for the main team are approaching, and I just can't spare that time."

She pouts like a kicked puppy. "But... what about now, then, before class starts?" She starts to remove his bag that's on the chair beside him. "I'll just sit here and – "

Shane immediately clamps a hand down on his bag. "Sorry, that seat's saved for – " A wide grin spreads across his face when he catches my eye. "Ah, there she is, my lovely partner-in-crime, the photon quanta to my valence electron," he says brightly, before mouthing, in slight desperation, 'Save me!'

I roll my eyes again. I don't really want to save him, but I desperately need to sit down so that I can inspect whatever fresh hell was inflicted on my foot when I slammed into the door. "Move over, Heather," I tell her. "Thanks to you, I have to see whether you've incapacitated me for good."

Shane turns to Heather. "What did you do?"

"N-nothing!" she says breezily, stepping away from our table. "Oh, look, I think Leila's calling me. We'll talk later, Shane, bye!"

As soon as she's out of earshot, I let out a sharp hiss of pain. Shane quickly leans over, steadying a hand around my elbow as I inspect my foot. "What happened? What did Heather do?" The sharp edge of concern in his voice is too familiar for my liking, and I quickly shake his hand off.

"I'm okay, really, just stubbed my toe or – " I start to wave his worries off, only to rapidly pale when I see the blood coating my big toe. "Oh, shit, um... Yeah, this doesn't look fine – " I bite my lip, breathing hard through my mouth. "I should've worn shoes today instead of my sandals but – Wait, what are you doing?!" I shriek when Shane suddenly disappears beneath the table.

A moment later, his fingers curl gently around my ankle, lifting it so he can get a better look. The heat from his palm sends a shiver down my spine, and in my sheer surprise, I forget the pain for a second. I almost jump when his hair brushes my knee. It's everything I can do to keep a straight face. "I think you flipped a nail," he remarks at last, his hand tightening a little.

"Yeah, I think so too – "

"Oh, my, have I interrupted something...?" a familiar voice drawls.

I flinch, and so does Shane. A muffled swear escapes his lips as he bumps his head against the table. I stare wide-eyed at Tamara, who's grinning down at us with a twinkle in her eye. Both eyes, actually. She looks like the damn Cheshire cat.

"Wha – no, we're not doing anything!" I blurt, waving my hands wildly about. It's a good thing the other students are too caught up in their phones or conversations to even care about what's happening at the back of the classroom.

"Hmm, then what's Corelli doing under the table?"

As if on cue, Shane pops back up. I almost groan aloud when he runs a hand through his tousled hair. Right, as if that won't give people the wrong impression. But he doesn't seem to have heard Tamara's words at all – gone are his smug smirks and teasing manners, his expression is entirely serious as he meets Tamara's gaze squarely. "She flipped a nail. I'm taking her to the nurse's office."

Tamara's smile vanishes. "Oh, dear, that's not good."

"I'm fine, I'm fine!" I scramble to my feet, only to falter as a sharp pain lances through my foot. It actually feels like my skin's being yanked all the way back. Shane reaches out to steady me, but I bat his hand away. "I can go on my own – "

Shane frowns. "Bev – "

"Don't worry about me, it's fine – "

"Let him take you," Tamara says, handing my books and bag over to him. "I'll tell Mr Richards what happened. I've been there before and it hurts like a bitch. Corelli can carry you, bridal style."

I turn to Shane with a warning look. The gleam in his eyes is back, and he looks far too entertained by the suggestion for my liking. "If you do that, I'm never speaking to you again."

"Relax. Although you do look a little pale, are you sure you don't want – " he trails off, holding out his arms to me. I scoff and start to hobble away on my own, and he quickly catches up to me, wrapping his hand around my arm. "Okay, at least hold onto me. Can't have you falling for anyone else."

I elbow him half-heartedly in the ribs, which does nothing to stop the amused chuckles spilling from his lips. Nor does it do anything to stop the flutter in my chest, as he brushes his thumb gently, surreptitiously against my arm, like a soft, wordless signal shared between the two of us.