^^^ LISTEN WHILE YOU READ ^^^^

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"Dude, is she even real?" I ask Carson after he's once again talking about his issues with the girl in his science class. 

"Of course she's real. And she's hot, too." He says. 

"Is that all you care about? What happened to philosophical Carson?" I ask. He's about the same height as me, and I squint at him.

"He died when I pulled my first chick." He says.

We're standing in the library after school because Carson had to renew his book for a project. Brandon is here too, quiet and thinking as per usual, but Alex isn't because they had to stay after for art.

Brandon elbows Carson, who looks at him in confusion. Brandon gestures in my direction with his head, and understanding washes over Carson's expression as he looks. I watch them, confused out of my mind, as they scuttle away.

"Casey, I was looking for you." I suck in a breath when I hear that familiar, sweet voice behind me. 

I turn around.

Hazel's wearing jean shorts again, and a T-shirt printed with some band I don't recognize. I can see the chain of her cross necklace peeking out of the back of the shirt. 

"Why?" I ask.

"I wanted to remind you about the test," she says.

My eyes widen. "Test? "

"Yes, on Monday. Mr. Cromey mentioned it in class today. Casey, I thought you said you would pay attention and participate?"

I look away guiltily, trying to think of an explanation that doesn't involve her being the reason I couldn't focus. Because using her as a scapegoat is stupid.

"I know, I'm really sorry," I say. "I didn't get much sleep last night--"

She rolls her eyes. "Casey, I already told you. If you want to get any better, you have to meet me halfway."

Meet me halfway. I repeat in my head.

"Okay. I can do that." I say.

"Now that that's out of the way," she says, waving her hand in the air without direction. "Tutoring session. Now."

"Now? But--"

"The test is on Monday, Casey. That's in three days." She says. I stop fooling around when I see that she's dead serious. "Which means you need as many sessions as possible since you basically have to relearn everything. And I'm free today."

"Wait, you're free? After school? What about Landon?" I ask, genuinely curious.

Hazel looks away impatiently. "My mom decided to actually parent today."

I blink, surprised. "Oh, really? That's great."

"No, it's not. She doesn't know anything because she's barely there. She doesn't even know his favorite food."

"Oh," I say. "I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?"

She sighs. "No. But maybe I also need you as a distraction. You know, so I don't keep worrying about what my mother is screwing up at home."

"Okay, sure. I'll be your studious distraction." I say.

So we find a more secluded spot in the library to study for the test. I guess Hazel had previously scouted this place out because we end up in a section closed off by bookshelves. Resting near a wall of books are three large beanbag chairs. Hazel sets her bag down on the one farthest from the other two, and I copy her. Sitting down, she pulls out her laptop and logs into the online classroom that our school has set up for us. I sit down next to her.

We push our beanbags against each other so I can see her screen, and I pull out my math notebook.

Hazel's sitting upright with her legs crossed and her computer on her lap. She hunches over to type in her password, and the neckline of her shirt hangs from her neck, making the silver necklace that runs into it more visible.

"Why do you wear that?" I blurt out.

She looks at me, down at her chest, then clutches the necklace. 

"Oh, it's my dad's. He gave it to me when I was really young, but I only started wearing it recently."

"Wow. Is that before he-- ?" I stop myself and cringe at my insensitivity.

But she doesn't take it that way. The corners of her mouth perk up a little, and her eyes sparkle. "No, the alcoholic one is Landon's dad," she says. "Mine's not . . . in the picture anymore."

"Oh. Well, I like it. It looks good on you."

Hazel's lips spread into a small smile, and she turns back to the computer. Her cheeks are slightly pink again, probably because of what she's feeling about her dad.

She leans toward me and hands me the laptop. "Point to what part you have trouble with."

I scroll the document of notes I guess she took in class, and point to the first equation I see.

"This one," I say.

"Oh, gosh, Casey." She says, shaking her head.

"What?"

"You're so far behind."

With Mr. Cromey, it's hard to understand the concepts, but with her, it's a breeze. She has a soothing, authoritative voice that makes you have to pay attention. 

Her fingers graze my leg as she takes the laptop back, and I bite the inside of my cheek. "Wait, I know that one. Go to the next one." 

She scrolls. 

"Okay, so what the heck is 'e'?" I say.

"It's 2.718. You use it in exponential growth and decay problems when the graph increases continuously."

I look at her blankly. "Huh?"

"It's kind of confusing, but with the time we have, all you need to know is this formula and when to use it. So memorize that." She explains, pointing at the screen.

"Alright," I say.

Hazel shifts, adjusting the laptop resting on her lap. After picking up my water bottle from the left, I take a long drink and turn to her. "What time are you leaving today?"

"Uh, I don't know. Whenever you are." She says without looking at me.

"Oh, okay. Because I was going to offer to drive you home."

"No, no, it's okay. You don't have to do that." She says. 

I frown at her. "But it's freezing outside."

She still doesn't look up. "I'll be fine, Casey. It's nothing I'm not used to."

When we finish, I pack up and say goodbye to the librarian. Once Hazel and I are outside, I turn to her.

"Are we going to do another session before the test?"

Hazel adjusts her backpack straps. "Hopefully, if my mom stays throughout the weekend."

"Where does she go?" I ask.

"I don't even know, dude. Sometimes she's passed out in her room upstairs, and others she isn't in the house." She says, and I notice her rubbing her arms in the cold. "But what about Sunday at, like, three?"

"Alright. That works, I guess." I say.

Hazel nods and hugs her arms as an icy breeze blows over us. She shivers. "Well, I gotta go. See you Sunday."

She's about to turn around, but I stop her. "Take this," I say. I remove my backpack and set it on the concrete, grab the bottom of my hoodie, and pull it off. The T-shirt I have on underneath rides up a bit, but I don't bother grabbing it.

Folding it twice quickly, I hold it out to her. Her cheeks flush a vivid pink, and she glances at it, then turns her gaze to me, shaking her head slowly. "You don't have to do that."

"Dude, it's freezing. You do not want to walk home in a T-shirt and shorts."

She's still shaking her head. "I can't take your hoodie."

"Hazel, I'm driving home in a car with built-in heating. Just take the darn hoodie." I say. "It's either that, or I drive you home." 

I hold it out to her once more and she meets my gaze to confirm I'm serious. Then she sighs and takes it from my hand. For a moment, she just stares at it before gathering it up and pulling it over her head. After putting her arms through the sleeves, she flips her hair out with one hand so it's not stuck underneath.
Not knowing what to do with my hands, I push them into my pockets and I tilt my head as I watch her.

Her eyes lock onto mine, and the color in her cheeks becomes even more prominent.

"Is it warm?" I ask.

"Uh, yeah, it's really . . . it's warm. Thank you."

The corners of my mouth twitch upwards in a small smile, and she bites her lip. I ignore the twisting feeling deep inside me.

"You can return it whenever. Or you don't have to. I have others." I say, shrugging. 

Hazel raises her eyebrows, and her cheeks never revert to their original color. "I'll return it as soon as possible." She says. "Okay bye."

"Bye."

I stay there for about ten seconds as she walks away, before turning around and walking to my car. Why is my heart beating so fast?

A/N:

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