Page 49 of Left on Read

“I’m trying.” One hand still in my hair, the other comes to brush his thumb across my bottom lip. “I am so sorry. I know I said that last night, but I don’t think I can say it enough. If it helps, I don’t think my mom will ever forgive me. I have never seen her that mad. I got the lecture of a lifetime about what it’s like to be a woman in academia and a girl in high school, and how she has the utmost respect for anyone who’s both at the same time. She told me I should too, and I’d never thought of it that way.”

“Hm,” I murmur, kind of impressed.

“And if it helps … I promised her I’d make it up to you.”

“How are you going to do that?” I ask, not the slightest bit sarcastic. I genuinely want to know.

“Haven’t decided yet,” he mumbles. His eyes have gone all hazy, and they drift down to my mouth.

All I have to do is tilt my headjustso …

… and my lips press against his.

It’s nothing like our first kiss. That felt almost accidental, like we got caught up in the moment and couldn’t help it. This issomuch more intentional, and my mouth opens on a sigh as his fingers bury themselves in my hair.

This is electric in a way I never thought I’d feel.

He’s always ignited a fire in me, one I thought was all deep-red anger and hot-orange indignation. This is the bright blue of understanding, the sharp lime-green of actual respect. Colors I barely knew flames could be.

“Is this okay?” he asks against my lips. “I know you don’t—”

“Yes,” I whisper. We’re so close, the words barely need speaking, but it’s still important I say them. “I told you. You can.”

His hands tighten, his mouth moves, and we never do get to practice the presentation again.

OfficialEndeavourHigh:Happy midterm week, Eagles!

Iwalk into the classroom almost ten minutes early. I wanted to be the first one, in case anyone had questions or wanted a pep talk or needed a safe place to panic.

For a second, I thought I was in the wrong room. The lights were on, the projector screen pulled down. And there was actually someone sitting behind the desk at the front. I thought I might be mistaken or in an alternate-universe version of this class that actually has a functioning teacher, but that’s Lowry. Deeply fucked-up sense of style and all. Her glasses are bright purple, and her skirt is an orange-on-orange print that looks like a ‘70s couch, and I’ve never met someone who is so visually chaotic yet so fundamentally boring.

I don’t say anything, because I ran out of questions and frustrations and words a long time ago. All we have to do is survive this and 50 percent of our grade will be secure. The other 50 percent is an open-book final before winter break, so I’m not worried about that. I’d love to pretend I’m not worried abouttoday either, but as people start to fill the room, the rising tide of barely repressed anxiety from the rest of the class starts to overwhelm me.

I can practically hear their thoughts:Why is she here early? How is she going to grade us? Will we pass?

Hayes, unlike Lowry, hasn’t shown up yet. I take a quick scan of the room and check the time. Everyone else is here. I know who is in what group and what they’re presenting on, and I have two copies of our paper to turn in, even though I only needed to print one.

Three minutes left. I can turn the paper in without him, but I can’t do the presentation on my own. I mean … I could, I guess, but I don’twantto. It’s as much his as it is mine, and I also don’t think I shouldhaveto do this by myself.

My mind starts to whir, and my heart starts to race, and I curse myself for needing him. I wasn’t supposed to need anyone anymore. I shouldn’t have—

Hayes. There he is. All that whirring stops, and the frantic racing slows down. It’s tangible, how much I relax. He sits next to me as if he didn’t arrive with only seconds to spare.

“What?” he asks, running his fingers through this hair. “Did you think I was gonna be late? Don’t worry, Novella. I’m here, and I’m ready. I’m gonna do my part perfectly, and I’m gonna make you proud. Everything is gonna be great, and everyone’s gonna do great, because of you.”

I want to roll my eyes, and I want to mess his very-combed hair back up, and I want to never look away from him. But my eyes fall from Hayes’s to our paper. The MLA-formatted headings are perfect, and that makes me feel just the slightest bit better.

The first group goes up to do their presentation. One of the Poe groups. They take a more relaxed approach than I would’ve, cracking jokes and flashing Poe memes in their slide decks. They have the personality to pull it off. I silently cheer them on with as much eye contact as I can muster.

One after another, each group goes up and politely grins their way through their presentations. Some awkwardly. Some with more excitement than I’d expected. A few speeding through just to get it over with. I feel each of them take a deep, soothing breath as they pass me on the way back to their seats.

There are about ten minutes left in the class period, and the vibe of restrained panic has receded for the most part into one of relief.

Our turn.

I take my place at the corner of Lowry’s desk. Hayes pulls up our pristine presentation on the computer. I wouldn’t put it past him to show everyone the horrible comic sans version he made just to troll me. Thinking about that hideous font sends a pulse of wistfulness through me. I’m gonna miss his teasing.

I don’t know what happens to us when we’re not partners anymore.