Between the desks

Chapter 7

Amren's POV

I crush my cigarette under my shoe, watching the embers flicker out. The first day of school is finally over. Lily and I rode back to my place on my motorcycle, eager to unwind. What started as a glass of wine to celebrate quickly turned into an empty bottle.

We're sitting on my balcony now, the sun sinking low in the sky, casting a warm glow over everything. The fading light brushes against my face, soft and comforting. I light another cigarette, taking a slow drag. I really need to quit this.

As I exhale, I glance over at Lily. She's already staring at me, her expression unreadable. I narrow my eyes slightly, silently asking her what's on her mind.

"What happened this morning after English?" she asks, breaking the peaceful silence.

I feign ignorance. "What do you mean?" I shrug, hoping to dodge the question. But Lily isn't buying it—her eyebrow arches, full of suspicion.

"What do you mean, what do you mean?" she mimics, smirking. "You went all anxious the second class ended."

I give her a deadpan stare. "Lil, I just needed some air. That's all," I say, hoping that'll be enough for her to drop it.

She sighs, clearly not convinced. "You looked more than just 'air-needing.' You were... anxious." She takes a puff of her cigarette, eyes never leaving mine.

"Lil, it was nothing," I insist, forcing a small smile. Damn it, Lil, just let this go.

She punches me lightly on the arm, and I flip her off in response. Without missing a beat, she does her best impression of Professor Olsen. "'I don't want to see this in my classroom,'" she says in a mock-serious voice, trying to look strict.

I burst out laughing. "God, I know, right? What was that?"

"It was so weird," Lily chuckles. "You've already managed to piss off the new professor on the first day."

I flip her off again. "Hey! She's the one who went psycho on me. I didn't even do anything."

Lily laughs harder, shaking her head. "Yeah, sure."

I down the last of my wine, feeling the warmth spread through me. "Come on, it's getting cold. Let's go inside."

We head indoors, and I lock the door to the balcony. "I'm gonna shower," I tell her, raising an eyebrow. "Try not to break anything while I'm gone, okay?"

She flips me off this time, and I stick my tongue out at her before disappearing into the bathroom.

Under the hot water, I try to wash away the lingering thoughts of this morning. But no matter how hard I scrub, I can't seem to shake the image of Professor Olsen. Strict, cold, yet undeniably attractive. Great. It's probably my mommy issues kicking in.

I replay the moment over and over in my head. Why was she so mad at me? Was it really just about me flipping the bird? Or was it something deeper, something I can't quite put my finger on?

Stop overthinking it, I tell myself. She probably just had a bad day.

But the way she looked at me... it's stuck in my head, and I can't shake it.

I take a deep breath, trying to push it from my mind. Tomorrow's a new day. Maybe this whole thing will just blow over.

But something tells me it won't.

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