relish me

↳ 07. don't expect nothing

"I DON'T GET it." He puts his pencil down.

"It's only twenty questions, c'mon Asher you can do it."

"Only twenty." He repeats.

"Yeah, only twenty," I say. "So get back to work." Asher looks at me for a moment before picking back up the pen.

"It's impossible to work with all this noise." He grumbles. 

I look around, seeing the several teens with their laptops, coffees and books splayed across their tables only for display as they're too busy talking rather than actually studying. 

It's no wonder it's so loud. I think everyone's forgotten that one of the rules in library's during these past years is that you're supposed to be quiet and not disturb those around you.

"You'll have to work through the noise," I say. There's no other spot for us to be together. Asher's house is off limits and my house is, obviously, off limits. 

If I brought a boy like Asher into my house Dad would erupt like a volcano. If I brought home any boy actually. When I notice some of the girls are starring—not so discreetly—at Asher I look away immediately. 

Casually, I think, I say, "What's the problem? Is it really the noise making it difficult or do you just not know how to get to the answer?"

Asher shoots me a glare.

"I-I wasn't—I didn't mean it as an insult. Just genuinely, I can't help you if I don't know." Asher looks away.

"The latter."

I ponder for a moment. "Alright, tell me what you're struggling with."

He sighs.

We continue this for about an hour. I sit opposite him so I basically have to read his paper upside down. 

Asher doesn't seem to notice, or maybe care, about my struggling so I have to turn the paper a bit myself when it gets too difficult. 

Asher never looks at me, keeping his eyes down at the paper—casually doing his work.

"Alright, that's the last ques—" Before I can finish my sentence Asher gets up.

"We're done." He picks up his backpack and walks away. I watch his figure as he leaves. Biting my lip. Ignoring the snarls and laughs from the girls behind us.

My body slumps down, resting my head on the cold library table. It smells like sweat. Probably my sweat. 

I was sweating buckets just from sitting opposite him. I doubt he noticed how my voice trembled as I'd explain the method or how my eyes would glance up at him every so often and get lost on each strand of his hair or me. 

Just me. He didn't notice a single bit of me. 

That's what I want, yeah. But. It still hurts.

I close my eyes.

I didn't want to expect anything. Once you open room for expectations you also end up opening up room for disappointments. But even so, I expected something. 

And it wasn't this.