Day One

It was safe to say that math was the worst class in my schedule.

In the desk to my left sat Hunter, whose face had transfigured into a vexed, hateful grimace. He twirled a wad of gum between his teeth with his fingers, only half listening to the math lecture before taking note of my stare and quirking an eyebrow my way as if to say: I'm so done with this lecture.

I exhaled through my teeth and nodded.  My gaze flickered to the packet of Extra hanging out of the bottom section of Hunter's backpack. I met his eyes again and whispered, "Can I have some gum?"

He grabbed the pack and slid it across my desk. I wasted no time digging into it, the soothing tang of spearmint overloading my taste buds.  

I'd never liked math.  I wasn't particularly the best at it and it was more boring than I thought was humanly possible, but Hunter was bad at it, too, and we complained to each other on the daily.

"Thank God, it's over." I sighed after the bell as Hunter and I packed up our things.  He swept a curl out of his face and gave me a lopsided grin.  

"Let's get out of here." He nodded at the door and I followed closely behind him until we made it into the hall.

Hunter was simple-minded and easy-going, which I appreciated, especially after an hour of listening to our math teacher babble about derivatives.   

Our conversation was politely mundane until we reached the end of the hall, when the gargantuan figure came into my view, a bulk of camera equipment in his grasp. Damon.

I heaved a long, deep sigh.  I'd momentarily forgotten about the chemistry test, and seeing the photographer was an unpleasant reminder that fourth period today had actually happened.

"What?" Hunter frowned.

"The chemistry test. I almost forgot."

"Oh, Mark told me about that." He scrunched his face. "Is that Damon?"

"The skyscraper with the camera equipment? Yeah, that's him."

"Shit, he's huge. Mark better not mess with him." He scoffed, combing his hand through unruly dark curls.

"I really hope not."  The guy had a good six inches on Mark, who already stood at six feet tall.  He could get seriously injured if anything happened between them.  I dismissed the thought.

"Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow." 

"Yeah, I'll see you, Zo." Hunter flashed me a pearly white smile before parting the opposite direction. My eyes tracked him until he reached a group of his buddies and submerged into a plethora of enthusiastic chattering and bro hugs.

"Hey, Zo." Damon's voice rumbled behind me, dripping in sarcasm.

"Hi."  I feigned a smile, meeting his eyes for a brief moment before sliding past him and making a beeline for my car. I couldn't remember where I parked it early this morning before I had a wake-me-up cup of Jo.  

Damon's heavy footsteps clunked behind me.  Clearly, I wasn't getting out of the conversation that easily.  

I spun around.  "I'm sorry, did you need something?"

"Footage," he answered simply, making a finger gun at his camera.

"Mark isn't here." 

"I know."

I stared at him for a moment, waiting for him to justify himself, but the guy didn't say anything. "That's not weird." I muttered underneath my breath, speed-walking away.

"You can't avoid it, Zoe." His words stopped me dead in my tracks. I flipped a caramel lock of hair out of my face and turned around.

"What do you mean?"

"The chemistry test." He took a few steps closer.  "You think that you can just bull shit your way through the two weeks and pull everything off last minute, don't you? I have news for you, Zoe Scott."

I fought the urge to lean away as he hunched over to whisper into my ear, "Zakary Riley will make two weeks seem like an eternity in hell."

He sauntered away, leaving me frozen in place, all the while his words echoed through my mind like a shriek through a tunnel.

Zakary Riley will make two weeks seem like an eternity in hell.

Well, we would see about that.

--

Three minutes into my drive home I spotted the aforementioned, himself.

I rolled down the window of the passenger seat and leaned over the divider. "Zak?" I slowed the speed of my car to match his skateboard.  

He turned at the sound of his name and met my gaze. His electrifying eyes sparkled as he hopped off the board and paced toward me.

"Hey, Zoe, what's up?" He flashed an acting smile, eyebrows raised as he poked his head through the open window.

"Do you need a ride?"

"Oh, no. I just live a couple miles down. Thanks, though." He grinned, pushing himself away from the car window.

"Come on, Riley. Let me do you a favor." I smiled, leaning into the passenger seat to crack the door ajar.

Zak kicked his skateboard into his hand and took note of the open door before flickering his eyes up to mine. "I'll have to owe you a favor."

"The horror." I gasped, patting the upholstery of the empty seat. "Sit. You know you want to."

"Alright, alright." Zak's lips tugged into a smile. "Anything for a fan." I rolled my eyes and scoffed, as he slid into the seat, placing his skateboard between his feet.

"No car, huh?" I asked after he'd buckled himself in and we'd started down the highway again.

"I have my license, but no, no car yet." He shrugged, nonchalant. "I skateboard to and from school, so that's chill."

"It's great exercise."

"Kind of a pain in the ass sometimes." He paused, trailing his fingers over the dashboard in my peripheral vision. "Literally."

"Woah, T.M.I." I laughed over at him as we came to a stoplight. "Which way from here?"

"Take a right on Kartlo Street, then another right onto Raymond Avenue." He instructed, pulling out his phone to play what sounded like Candy Crush, or some other game like it judging by the audio.

I turned right on Kartlo and took a sharper right onto Raymond Avenue. The neighborhood, shrouded by dense, towering pine trees had an older feel.  From momentary glances I gathered that most of the houses were originals, dating back to the 60's. The street was homey, yet the thick fog hovering over the aged Oregon road gave it an air of mystery.

"Is your house an original?" I asked in an attempt to make conversation.

"I don't know, actually." His words came slow before he grunted at his phone, swearing under his breath, and tucking it away. "I hope not."

"Why's that?" I inquired. "They're beautiful."

"They're being torn down soon. Something about black mold." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Oh, no." I murmured. "That's so sad."

He shrugged. "Most of the people in these houses are really old and cranky, anyway. I'm kind of hoping they'll move." I smiled over at him.  A smirk pulled at the corners of his lips. "What?"

"Nothing." I shrugged.  So far, the conversation had gone better than I'd expected it to.  I could only hope the two weeks went as smoothly.

"So, Damon," Zak started, shifting his sitting position as he relaxed into the seat. "He's involved in the chemistry test, how?"

I almost audibly groaned at the mention of the photographer. "I'm not really sure. I guess Gorveau thinks that Mark is going to meddle with the whole thing somehow."

"That makes sense."

"Does it?" I frowned.

"Yeah. You know how Mark can be."  He paused, and I looked over at him expectantly.  "How is he?"

"Good." My tone was clipped. "He's really good." I fought the urge to read his expression and instead added, "He told me something about you, actually."

 "Mark did?" He raised his eyebrows.

"You're into astronomy?" I posed it as a question, catching a glimpse of his smile in my peripheral.

"Yeah, I love astronomy." Zak sighed fervently. "It's fascinating. Underrated, but still." He propped his elbow against the car door, pressing the backs of his fingers against his lips as he studied me.

I pretended not to notice his eyes skim over my body, from my caramel locks down my slender arms to my spindly fingers. I tapped them on the steering wheel, gulping the lump in my throat. "Passion is important." I clenched my jaw.

"What about you?" He shifted his sitting position again, sweeping strands of hair off of his forehead.

"What about me?" My lips tugged into a small smile.  

"Any hobbies? Interests?" 

"Other than acting, you mean?" I clarified. A.K.A. The thing we're doing right now.

"Yeah. That one's a given." He replied, more to the subtext than my actual question.

"Well, since you asked," I glanced at him. "Gardening." He didn't respond at first, as if encouraging me to go on. "I enjoy it." 

"This one's my house." He cut in, trailing one against the window with his finger. I slowed the car to a stop and looked up at the house I'd pulled in front of.

From the looks of it, it couldn't have been an original; there was no way it surpassed 15 years of age. It was painted a cool gray-blue with a white trim, standing two stories tall and including a grand balcony on the second floor that wrapped around the front of the house to the side. The wall of the first floor was primarily window, thoroughly Windexed and polished to perfection. A small window on the far right side was closed off with a lace curtain. Just below, a rose bush was in full bloom, littered with stunning white roses and a cheery garden gnome with a red cap and full white beard, carrying a watering can. What made the house stand out the most was how lively and clean the front lawn appeared. It was an almost alarming shade of green, happier and healthier than most in Oregon.

"Your house is lovely." I smiled as Zak fumbled to grab the skateboard from beneath him. He climbed out of the passenger's seat, skateboard tucked underneath his arm, and grabbed the corner of the open door. He shot me an icy smile.

"Thanks again for the ride. I owe you one."

"Don't mention it, Riley." I smiled.

"Thanks anyway." He shrugged, giving me a crooked grin. "Drive safe." And with that, he pushed the car door closed and made his way toward the house. I watched him until he reached the doorknob, when he glanced over his shoulder and gave me a small, polite wave goodbye. His eyes left mine, hand turned the knob, and he slipped into the house.

I slouched into the seat, releasing the breath I didn't know I was holding.  This was real, it was happening; there was no way of getting out of it.  I could only imagine he was feeling the same way I was - overwhelmed.  The optimist inside of me was a faint ghost, yet still I listened to its howl telling me it would all work out.  It would all work out.  

He wasn't capable of destruction.  

At least that's what I hoped.