Greya's POV...

Whoever invented this class, did it to torture everyone. Why are there so many different math classes? Give us a class that covers the basics and teaches us to survive in the world as normal functioning adults.

Thankfully, Fynn and Ari are also able to share in the relentless misery that Calculus class brings and they try to help me out as much as they can. They also sit on either side of me, which isn't always a good thing because they're always distracting me, and this is my least favorite subject. I'm terrible at anything with numbers, but I need this class if I want to go to medical school someday.

I take my seat in the 2nd row from the back and place my books on my desk. Everyone's loud chatter turns into whispers as the school's " golden boy" Becker Reeves, strolls in, brushing his fingers through his dark brown hair and teasing all the girls with his perfect smile and dimples. As he passes my desk he locks eyes with mine and I see straight through those caribbean blues. Unlike everyone else who are oblivious to anything other than his appearance, I can tell something's wrong by the way his stare lingers slightly longer than usual. For a moment he seems lost in his head until I smile at him.

He takes his seat right behind me in the back row. All eyes are on me, well more like on him when he leans forward and begins talking.

"You going to win your game today, Love? The UCLA scout will be looking at me today too," he gloats while I roll my eyes at the nickname he insists on calling me. As soon as he found out my middle name was Love, he's decided to use it every chance he gets. It's about the only thing he does know about me. For whatever reason he's content not knowing anything more. He doesn't even ask Cohen who I've also been friends with since elementary school.

He wants to talk to me though, the only way he knows how, so I play along like I have been every day for the last five years. There isn't much in my life that I've been able to control and most of the time I've felt useless in preventing bad things from happening. I wasn't able to help my mom or my dad, but I can help Becker, in any way he needs me to without him actually knowing I'm trying to help.

" I heard...I wish you luck today then," I nicely respond to him without turning around to look at him. If I face him, he'll figure out what I'm trying to do and he'll stop talking.

"The scout will be impressed with who scores the most goals," he's trying to egg me on, it's his funny way of communicating.

"That's a given, B," is what I respond with.

I hear him inhale a sharp painful breath as he adjusts in his seat. It almost makes me turn around and ask if he's alright. I want to ask, I want to know what happens to him that makes him feel so lost. Unlikely he'll answer me truthfully though, so I think of other ways of getting the truth out of him. Like I said, he doesn't talk to me much and never admits when something's bothering him. I think he'd rather not have me ask questions because he's afraid of what I'll find out. Not so different than the world I myself live in.

"Are you up to the challenge?" I ask him instead. If I play into his facade, he's more likely to reveal in his own subtle way, whether or not he needs my help. Of course he'd never directly ask for my help, nor does he avoid our once or twice a day encounters. Our relationship is complicated, Becker is complicated.

There's always been something off about him. I see the subtle expressions he tries to hide, like when he's sad or hurting. He's not the picture perfect storybook character everyone thinks he is. I realized that the first day he walked into my 7th grade class. There's a completely different side to him that no one else seems to notice because they're too busy admiring his physical features and pretending to want to be his friend or girlfriend for status. He's managed to fool everyone for so long, it's a wonder how much longer he can keep up with it.

He's never had a high school girlfriend, nor have I ever seen him close to anyone except for Declan and Cohen who happen to be his only real friends. He's always flinching and he always sits in the back, so he has a view of everyone in front of him. It's strange and no doubt there's an underlying reason for it, but all these superficial girls think it's a game and who ever Becker finally chooses to be with in the end is the ultimate winner. Becker probably doesn't even realize he's playing this game. Or maybe he does and if he plays it right, no one will win and no one will see his other side.

Frankly, I'm afraid of his other side. I'm afraid of finding out what's on the other side and not being able to help him.

"You know you and I are tied for number of goals scored this season." He blurts whispers. I feel another challenge coming on and I invite the way he interacts with me.  He's not directly telling me he's in physical pain from something that happened to him this morning, but he's engaging and not stepping away from the challenge, so I know he's not injured enough that he can't play today, thank goodness. It would be so amazing if the scout offered him a roster spot too, I'd be extremely happy for him.

I realize I haven't answered him yet. "No I didn't know, that's cool," I lie. Of course I know, he makes it a point to remind me every day. Everything is a competition with him when it comes to me, I'm not sure why we've adapted to this kind of communication with each other, but it's better than not communicating at all. Though, sometimes I wish we talked about normal things, like normal friends do.

He leans in close to my ear. I can feel his warm breath against my skin and feel goose bumps form on my neck when he whispers in his raspy voice, "Today I'm going to break that tie, and you'll be the one trying to catch up to me."

I choose not to acknowledge him further. I don't know why he cares so much about how many goals I score or who has better foot skills, and who can juggle the most. It's not like my accomplishments will affect him in any way. This could be his defense mechanism or how he deals with his real life. Maybe he sees me as someone who doesn't threaten him. Whatever it is, works for him, but not me. He's capable of more than this and some day I'll figure out how to prove that to him.

"Hey Greya? You get another offer tonight, who you gonna choose?" Declan asks for everyone to hear. He and Ari must've been talking about it earlier. I still haven't told Ari what I want to do, I haven't told anyone because I have no idea. Plus I don't want to get my hopes up for something that isn't possible for me.

I basically ignore Declan's question and he laughs it off knowing it was a failed attempt. I don't want to think about my options right now anyway, I can't even figure out this math assignment never mind figure out my life choices.

"What does he mean by other offer? Why haven't you accepted them?" Becker's angry tone scorches the back of my ear as his warm breath fans across my skin.

I turn around and scrunch my eyes while I stare at him, dumbfounded. He's leaning back in his seat now with his arms crossed at his chest. He's upset with me for no reason and I don't know what to say to that.

"So?" He sarcastically asks me this time, wanting an answer. Now he's acting like a pompous ass.

"Why do you care?" The first ever meaningful question he's ever asked me and this is how he asks!

I'd love for him to care. Love for him to ask because maybe then, I'd be comfortable enough to ask him the important questions too.

His facial expression changes from furious to surprised to...I don't know what, yet he doesn't respond, so I turn back around to work on my assignment.

Thirty minutes later and I'm still on the 2nd math problem. I can't comprehend this stuff especially while I'm sitting here wondering what's made Becker so irked with me.  I sigh loudly and put my head down on my desk.

Suddenly I see Becker's hand reach over my desk and drop me a piece of paper. I unfold it and see that he wrote down how to solve the math problem I'm stuck on plus all the rest of them, in detail so I can understand them. I smile to myself thinking this must be his way of apologizing. I'll accept since I couldn't possibly pass this ridiculous class without him.

"You coming to my party tonight?" He calmly and quietly asks.

I'm still in awe at how easily he completed these calculus problems.  He's so freaking smart and physically appealing, it's no wonder when people look at him, he seems to have it all. You still won't trick me Becker Reeves.

"Love?" He nervously asks again.

"Maybe," I simply respond while slowly turning around and handing him his paper back. "Thanks for the help," I say. He sits back into his chair, leaning it on it's back two legs while he watches my hand place the paper down in front of him.

He's back to having that pained look on his face like he always has when someone comes near him. If he leans any further away from me, he'll hit the back wall.

He doesn't say anything as he watches me study him. I feel bad, he was just being nice to me, helping me with something I have difficulty with. Now he looks upset again, but more at himself, not at me this time. The lost soldier boy.

I remove my hand from his desk to give him more space. He's having some sort of internal battle, I can see it in his eyes. Those wonderous ocean blues that hold so much mystery in them. The unique hues of light blue that only shines in his left eye make him ever more intriguing. But this is not what he needs from me right now, so I look away and say the only thing that might work.

"If you score more goals than I do tonight, I'll go to your party."

I hear his chair return to a normal position and feel him leaning towards me again.

" Deal."