Stuart Twombly x reader

6

 "Hey, y/n, you listening?"

 Your head snaps up from the book you are reading during your lunch break, soaking in the sun and refreshing cool air; despite your usual reading of books during your job, you can't seem to part from this one, as if the pages are magnetic and have sucked you in. You grin sheepishly as Neha looks over at you with raised eyebrows.

 "Sorry, what?" you apologise, putting the book down in your lap.

 "I was saying, maybe we should have a Lord of the Rings marathon tomorrow night or something. I might even get out my Sexy Hobbit outfit for the occasion," Neha winks. You chuckle and grin at her.

 "That sounds like fun," you agree, picking your book back up.

 "Stuart, what about you?" you hear Neha ask, and you bite the inside of your mouth to refrain from comment. He sighs, like he always does when you are mentioned, and seems to shrug.

 "Fine. So long as I don't have to -"

 You look up and see him glaring at you, making you carefully place your book down in your lap and fold your arms, raising your eyebrows and offering him your attention.

 "Don't have to what?" you prompt in an icy tone, setting your jaw.

 "Don't have to be anywhere near you," Stuart mutters quietly, staring straight at you. Your mouth opens wordlessly and gesture at him with confusion, looking to the rest of the table for explanation.

 "What the hell does that even mean?" you ask loudly, slapping your palm onto the table.

 "It means, I don't want to put up with you for five hundred and fifty seven minutes," Stuart explains in a clear voice, pulling a face to indicate you are stupid.

 You blink at him. "That is so sad, remembering the exact times." You look at him with non-legible pity.

 "Not as sad as you," Stuart notes, and you sigh with exasperation.

 "What is your problem?" you half-shout in a slow voice, hitting both hands on the table to emphasize.

 "You aren't even supposed to sit with us! What kind of contribution can you make to this group when we're trying to get the jobs we want despite two fifths of our team not even managing to comprehend that breast-feeding is better than bottle-feeding?" Stuart rants over the top of his phone, his gaze stony. "All you do is distract us, and you're not even at the same intellectual level, so it's like, what's the point?"

 He finishes and leans back in his chair, staring at his phone again and leaving you making aggravated eye contact with the rest of the group who are watching the events unfold in silence, save for the loud slurp of Billy drinking next to you.

 "So...you're coming then?" Neha persists awkwardly. Stuart nods distractedly and Neha gives you an anxious look, mouthing, "Don't worry about it."

 You pick your book back up and try to concentrate on the words, though they wriggle across the page and seem to be replaced with Stuart's seemingly intense dislike for you.

 *

 Back in the library, you moodily unwrap some chewing gum and place it in your mouth, trying to channel some of your negative emotions into working your jaw.

 "No chewing gum in the library," Carrie says quietly without looking up from the computer, and you spit it in the bin unhappily.

 You can't believe that Stuart can hate you so much. Every dirty look and glare, every insult and reference to your supposed lack of intellect, seems to be playing on your mind, growing and spreading like rising damp in the back of your mind. As far as you know, you share similar tastes in film and television programmes, and you've even heard him sing a few lines of a song by your favourite band to himself, startling you. But for some reason, he seems set on disliking you.

 His rant at you today seems to hint towards his own inward panic that his future at Google will be less secure if he was surrounded by people unable to complete the same tasks as him - Billy, Nick and yourself - but that is no way an excuse to be so rude, particularly to you who isn't even part of the stupid internship. All it makes you want to do is slap him or throw some kind of solid object at his face.

 Just as you pull yourself out of your negative thoughts and the creating of insults you hope to one day use against him, Carrie stops you as you put your bag over your shoulder to exit the library and get a cab.

 "Remember, you swapped shifts with Harry," Carrie points out, and you let out a frustrated sigh, dropping your bag to the floor and dragging it behind you as you make your way back to the desk. Carrie follows you, hands on hips.

 "What's up with you?" she asks, though she sounds more concerned than angry. You drop your head onto your arm on the desk, pressing your face against your jacket sleeve.

 "I just want to go home and forget about this absolute moron I have to see everyday," you mumble, muffled from the cloth covering your mouth, and Carrie lets out a 'hm'.

 "I hope you don't mean me. And it's only three hours, y/n. Stay strong."