Eternal Longing ✓

18. The Challenge

JAYA

My scalp itches so much that I'm so close to ripping my hair apart.

Another giggle. A deep, rich voice. More fucking giggles.

My braids are brand new, I just got them before moving-in day two weeks ago, so why the hell are they so itchy?

The girl giggles obnoxiously once more, and I hold myself back from turning around and snatching her hair so I can bang her head on the desk so she can finally stop laughing.

Finley is not even that funny.

"So yeah, we have to participate in one of the challenges for rush week." Maverick's voice breaks through my thoughts of violence. "Naturally, I chose the rap contest."

Giving him a look that screams why in the hell would you do that, I force myself to ignore Finley and Ms-Laugh-A-Lot seated behind us and focus on my friend instead.

"Bruh why would you go and do that? You should have gone with the modeling challenge." I tap my phone and wish for five minutes to pass quickly so our professor can start class.

"Hey!" He nudges my shoulder with a smirk. "I'll have you know, I'm an excellent rapper. My rhyme scheme, cadence, and freestyle abilities? Excellent," he jokes with confidence.

Entertaining him, I cross my arms and turn to my right with a nod. "Fine, let me see what you've got. Spit some bars off the top of your head right now."

Suddenly, the giggles behind us grow even louder to the point that it would be impossible to ignore. Both Mav and I turn around in our seats, looking up at the noise.

"Fins!" A pretty brunette's large smile greets us as she swats Finley's arm. "You're so hilarious!"

Yeah, somehow I seriously doubt that.

The guy in question seems barely amused as he looks between Mav and me with a raised brow and a chilling mask of indifference. I narrow my eyes at him, remembering the way he treated me yesterday.

We're not friends, I know that. But damn, I slept over at the guy's place. Hell, I slept in his bed. I was there when he experienced a nightmare and I even tried to comfort him.

That has to count for something, right?

But why did his words even affect me when he's technically correct? Friendship was never on the table for us just because he touched me and I allowed him to.

Truth is, Finley Barton is not my friend but somehow he knows me better than anyone else. It's an odd type of intimacy, though, because it's different from how everyone else knows me.

He knows that I hide behind a mask, that I've itched to crawl out and let go and he knows that I mainly achieve that feeling through my art.

Yet, in some ways, Finley doesn't know me at all. He sees the bigger picture, but he's not aware of the smaller pieces that make the picture.

He doesn't know what my favorite movies, my favorite songs, or my favorite foods are. He sees the larger, more poignant aspect of my identity but the little things are still an enigma to him.

Because we're not friends or anything else.

"Morning, you guys!" The brunette waves at us when she notices Finley staring.

Since the large class is housed in an auditorium-style room, though they sit right behind us, we have to crane our necks a bit since their level is more elevated than ours.

Still, the space between us isn't large, making it quite easy for us to converse with them if that's what we wanted to do. Which is not.

When Finley took the seat directly behind Mav and me a couple of minutes ago, I vowed to ignore him. In the end, it seems like that was an impossibility from the start.