"You suck," I scoff at the screen, Lara's ear-to-ear grin as visible as the moon in the deep of night.

A smirk graces her pink-lipsticked lips, "At least I don't suck my teacher's-"

"LARA!" I quickly yell, jaw glued to the floor in a desperate attempt to stop her sentence, "Remind me how you're my sister?!"

She smiles, her entertainment audible in her laugh even as it crackles through a bad connection. I groan and let my head drop into my hands, a crazy concoction of emotions swirling in my stomach.

After Hannah abandoned me yesterday, I was stuck alone with Slater in what may have been the most uncomfortable, pin-drop silence in the history of the universe. He is clearly taking the ignore-the-rejection-conversation-and-pretend-we-get-along route, whereas I'm going more of the further-embarrass-myself-at-every-opportunity-and-pretend-I-never-liked-you route.

To be honest, neither are working.

Every now and then I'll catch his eye when his walls are down and I'll see an exact reflection of what's in mine. I can't decide whether it's reassuring or terrifying.

In one last attempt at a distraction, I Skyped Lara. It always surprises me just how easily it is to forget your troubles when you're surrounded by people you love.

"Quo, you zoned out?"

I drag my wandering thoughts back to reality and smile apologetically, "Sorry. What, Lara?"

My older sister rolls her eyes playfully, tucking a flyaway of dirty blonde hair behind her ear.

"Hartley got you hot and bothered?" she sniggers, "And I said, I have something important to tell you. Can I come over soon?"

I flat-out mute her first sentence and feel my eyes light up like a carved pumpkin at her question.

"Really? Yes, of course!" I grin, unable to contain my anticipation as I sit up and reposition the laptop on my legs.

She smiles one of those smiles that only a Lara can pull off - one of those smiles that is full of relief and cuddly warm hugs and fluffy bears and leprechauns and unicorns farting rainbows. It's contagious and makes me want to reach through the screen and hug her.

A sudden thought dampens my mood, "Aren't you busy with your wedding though?"

I realise how much offence she could take to my abrupt sadness, "Sorry, I didn't mean to sound so upset. I love you and Bennett, but I don't want to take you away from any planning you might have."

She laughs, "I'm doing fine, Quorra. Even though we decided to have a wedding sooner than most couples, I still have months to prepare. I think I'm okay to spend one day with my baby sister."

"I'm not a baby," I grumble, narrowing my eyes into unamused slits.

Something flashes across her eyes. I move closer to my screen, as if a shorter distance would allow me to decipher what she's thinking. Did I say something?

The emotion is gone as fast as it appeared, replaced by a blinding beam, "Well you are my younger sister, so you are still closer to a baby than me. How is next week?"

I decide not to comment on how she's closer to death than me, yet I don't call her 'grandma', instead grinning back at her.

"That's awesome. I hope the big thing you need to tell me isn't that you want to disown me or something," I joke, relieved as she shakes her head at my quirks.

"Of course not; we are sisters for life, Quo."

My heart warms in my chest.

A second later, Lara fake-vomits, ending the touching moment. I laugh at her low tolerance for sappiness in comparison to mine. I've trained for many years with cliché romance novels and movies that make me want to cry my heart out and never fall in love.

"Yuck, we're getting disgusting," she scrunches her nose up in repulsion.

The shower cuts out, reminding me of Slater's presence.

I reach for the top of my laptop screen, "So I'll see you next week right? Text me once you have an exact date."

She nods in confirmation, "Definitely. Love you, Quo, and good luck with lover-boy."

I only give her a flat look before returning her 'I love you' and closing my laptop.

The warm, fuzzy feeling in my chest spreads across my body like a firework as I shake my head at our odd conversation.

A minute later, Skater steps out of the bathroom and three things happen.

First, I turn around so fast that my a sharp pain stabs my neck and I feel as if I'm paralysed by the agony.

Second, I actually get paralysed at the sight of a wet-haired, half-naked English professor with his chest and abdomen dripping with water.

Third, I meet aforementioned English professor's wide eyes and realise that he 100% didn't hear me come in ten minutes ago while he was in the shower.

Thankfully, he has one article of clothing on to stop me from fainting, which would lead to an incredibly awkward conversation with my parents.

He pulls his low-riding shorts a bit higher with one hand, a startled deer caught in headlights, "My apologies, Quorra, I didn't hear you come in."

I fumble for words but forget the entire English language as the only thing running through my mind is 'damn, you fine'.

"J-uh, it-it's... cool," I nod as nonchalantly as I can while dragging my eyes up to his unreadable eyes.

He doesn't even go back in the bathroom to change or anything. Of course not, that'd be absurd. Instead, he grabs a towel and dries off in plain sight, leaving me jealous of his hand as he runs it across his stomach.

If all my hormones could please gather into an orderly line that'd be great, I beg my body, turning around and trying to push past my stiff neck and the piercing pain that lingers on a part of it.

"Oh my god," I mouth to myself as soon as my back is facing him, ready to throw out all my literary knowledge to make space for the image imprinted in my mind.

A few moments later, he walks to his side of the room to tidy his already-pristine bed. I've managed to calm myself down enough to be able to know my left from my right, but his velvety voice interrupting the quiet of the room doesn't exactly help keep my freaking out down to a minimum.

"I was thinking, Quorra," he speaks up, "Since lectures are over for today, why don't we do something?"

I gape at him.

"D-did you just suggest to me that we do something?" I splutter like an engine choking out the last of its fuel, "Are you feeling alright?"

I stand up and press the back of my hand to his forehead, fully prepared for a high temperature. He laughs his awkward laugh and shrugs, "Lucas suggested this burger place down the street that-"

"Lucas?" I repeat slowly, hearing the pieces click together in my mind, "He put you up to this?"

Slater chuckles and rubs the back of his neck with his gaze downcast, "Perhaps."

I purse my lips and try to hold back the knives that yearn to tear theough my knuckles, "And did he tell you about a certain phone call between him and I?"

He seems to find the floor very interesting as he fidgets, "Perhaps."

***

"Is it Slater related? If it is, it will be ten times more interesting for me," he prods me for a response.

I reluctantly give him the answer, "Yeah. You can't tell him though. If you do, I'll castrate you, I swear to fucking god, Lucas."

He starts laughing all over again, "Neversea, I won't tell a soul. Your secrets are safe with me. Now, feel free to confess your undying love and passionate lust for my best friend. Trust me it's mutual."

***

I release a short breath, looking off to the side and crossing my arms, mentally sharpening my newest katana to dismember a body part that I'm sure Lucas treasures.

I hold up a finger as Slater opens his mouth to speak, furiously tapping through my phone and holding it to my ear.

Two rings later, the devil's spawn answers the phone.

"Tell me, Lucas, how are you going to explain your lack of a dick to your girlfriend the next time you're in bed?" I spit out, not giving him a chance to speak first.

He actually sounds nervous as he replies, "Q, I didn't tell him that mu-"

"Save it, shithead. See you in hell," I hang up immediately after and let out a frustrated noise.

"In his defence-"

"Really?" I snap, "You're going to defend someone I just threatened? Do you want to lose your dick too?"

Both of us freeze.

Did I just-

Yeah, you did.

You dun goofed, Quorra.

"Uh," I stutter, "So how about that burger place?"

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

I hold my classic cheeseburger lovingly in my hands, swallowing my bite before looking up and across at Slater, "I didn't know pretty boys like you went to casual burger places."

He smiles to himself at my statement, shaking his head in disbelief as he picks up a chip, "Pretty boy?"

"You're all prim and proper," I shrug, reminded of what he told me in his car about his parents' controlling nature, "And you know you're a total babe, don't even try."

I try to push aside the suicide I just committed saying that sentence with a sip of my coca cola, the fizziness on my tongue dulling my embarrassment.

The atmosphere of this place is very quiet and not many tables are filled aside from ours. The large room is lit with neon lights and as we chose a booth next to the window, we have a view of the desolate street and glowing streetlights.

Slater shrugs back and bites the end of a chip thoughtfully, the gesture so odd for his personality, "'Babe'. What an odd compliment. It doesn't seem at all like something you would tell someone you were flirting with."

Something flickers in his eyes as he looks at me and then down at his half-eaten food.

"Trust me, it's a compliment," I laugh, putting down my burger to replace it with a golden chip, "There's a big difference between a baby and a babe... in our century anyway."

He doesn't reply, taking a clean bite out of his food as I nibble on a chip, reflecting on our strange setting.

What regular university student can say that she's sat across from her teacher and eaten burgers with them?

"Do you still plan to castrate Lucas?" Slater asks, taking a sip of water, "I was not meant to reveal that he told me about your call, but I am the worst liar. I will feel bad if he gets punished for my mistake."

I laugh, even though hot blood floods through my veins at the mention of his cursed name, "Regardless of whether you accidentally told me or not, he still did do something wrong. This way, he gets learns that there are consequences for his actions, even if he only just met me a few days ago."

"Well," Slater continues, leaning back after finishing his food, "I can't say I wish he didn't tell me. Sometimes it's hard to see what is going on inside of that overthinking mind of yours."

I narrow my eyes and tilt my head slightly, "What's that supposed to mean?"

He crosses his arms over his well-built chest, pondering over a reply. I take the opportunity to appreciate his fitted, casual jacket and slim-cut jeans.

Damn.

"It means... that there are spontaneous occasions where you take things the wrong way or presume things that are not entirely correct," he says, nodding to himself as if approving his own English.

He drinks his water, no plussed, while I break down his words carefully.

***

"QUORRA NEVERSEA! Trust me, he likes the socks off of you. He's just really weird and alien-like, so he doesn't realise it himself yet. I know my bestfriend better than he knows himself, and I know for a fact that he cares about you."

***

"Are you..." I begin slowly, meeting his calculating gaze, "saying you like me?"

He plucks the straw from between his lips and lets it settle at the side of his mouth.

"Huh," he blinks, looking off and up to the side, "I guess I am."

I gape at him for the umpteenth time today, a mix of butterflies, burgers, and fries fluttering in my stomach.

"Wait, no," I furrow my eyebrows, "You aren't allowed to do this to me. You can't keep pushing me away and denying my kisses and then suddenly tell me you like me in the most anti-climatic way ever. This world doesn't work like that. This girl doesn't work like that. I'm going to end up heading back to our dorm and overcomplicating this entire situation because I don't know whether you like me or not."

He seems surprised by my response to his confession, and mumbles out a confused, "I'm... sorry?"

I groan and lean my elbows on the table to hide my face, "Sorry?" I repeat.

He looks left and right.

"I'm confused."

"Yeah," I mumble, "Me and you both, Buster."

●（=｀～'=） ●

There it is, ladies and gents: the most anti-climactic way to admit your feelings for someone. Did Slater even know himself?

Haha, what a lovable weirdo.

Thanks for all the crazy support as of late, guys, I've seen plenty of new and old readers and I'll be sure to mention all of the regulars in my final author's note at the end of the book like I usually do. This book is turning out to be way longer than my other two, which were both 30. Maybe closer to 40 chapters, maybe even early 50s, who knows, because I love to ramble apparently haha

Over and out,
Spud 🥔

P.S I recommend you start to mentally prepare NOW for the next two chapters. :) (That's not meant to be a comforting face...)