The Girl Next Door

4. The Class

Just as the bell rang, Matt pulled the car into our usual spot, and we spilled out of the vehicle, ready to face the day. The usual routine—grab your stuff, head to class. It was English Lit for me and Matt this morning. We got there just in time, sliding into our seats as the teacher started talking.

The class was mostly the same. Mr. Bruno doing his usual thing, cracking jokes we'd all heard a million times. He's a decent guy, but I can never focus on him for long. My mind starts wandering—half-listening, half-drifting into other thoughts.

And then the door opened.

Of course. It was Astrid. The girl next door.

She stepped in right as Mr. Bruno was getting into the lesson. She pulled off her hoodie and took out her headphones, looking completely unfazed by all the eyes on her. She didn't even seem to care that she was late. Her entrance was quiet, but somehow, it made the whole room stop for a second. It was like everyone knew she was there without her having to announce it.

Without a word, she walked straight to the back of the room, and guess where she sat? Directly behind me. I felt a little twist in my stomach as she plopped down in her seat. There wasn't a sound, just the soft rustling of her backpack as she got settled.

"Good morning, Miss O'Brien. Welcome to our class," Mr. Bruno said, trying to sound all teacher-ish, though I could tell he was half-joking.

Everyone laughed—except for her.

Of course. She just sat there, staring ahead, looking totally unaffected. No smirk, no acknowledgment. Just... nothing. Her expression was flat, like she was tuned out of everything around her. Emotionless.

It was disturbingly cute.

I caught myself thinking that, and I had to shake my head. What the hell was I doing? She was so not the kind of girl I should be paying attention to, especially not like this. She was the kind of girl who made you think too much, made you second-guess your every move. Too cool for school, too cool for everything.

"Anyway, again," Mr. Bruno continued, flipping through his notes as if he hadn't just tried to break the ice. "Open your books to page 115."

And just like that, we were back in the grind, everyone flipping through their books, but my mind? It was still stuck on Astrid.

Mr. Bruno stood at the front of the room, clearing his throat. "Alright, class, we're going to switch things up a bit. We'll be doing a pair project on The Great Gatsby." He paused for effect, and the whole room groaned collectively. But then he dropped the bombshell.

"Alex McCartney and..." He looked at his list, tapping his pen, and then said it. "Astrid O'Brien."

The room went quiet for a split second, and I swear I heard the air shift. I didn't expect it. Not this.

For the record, I was not expecting anything bad to happen in English Lit. I'd been dreading this project like everyone else, but the one thing I was sure of was that Matt and I would ace it. Because, let's face it—Matt is good at this stuff. Most of the time, he doesn't even have to do the work. He pays his tutor to handle everything for him. The tutor, of course, is practically in love with him, so she's more than happy to take care of it all.

But this? This was different.

I looked around, trying to hide the shock. Matt gave me a smirk from across the room, obviously having heard the pairing as well. He probably had his own thoughts about it, too, but he wasn't about to make a scene.

My mind was racing. Astrid. Astrid O'Brien. The girl next door. The girl who barely even acknowledged me when we crossed paths. The girl who had this entire mystery about her. And now I was stuck with her for a project?

I didn't know if I should be excited, terrified, or just plain confused. Astrid and I? Together? In a project that would probably involve talking and working together? That felt... way out of my comfort zone.

She didn't look up from her desk when Mr. Bruno called her name. As usual, she seemed unfazed by everything, like she could care less about the pairing or what anyone else thought.

I tried to keep my cool, but inside, my mind was all over the place. This was either going to be a nightmare or... well, I wasn't sure yet. But I couldn't deny it—Astrid O'Brien was now my partner for the most important project of the semester. And that? That was something I never saw coming.

The bell rang, and class was over before I even realized it. I followed Astrid out of the room, trying to figure out what to say about the project. She walked in front of me without even glancing back, her pace unhurried, like she had no care in the world. Not a word. Not a look. Nothing.

I watched her, trying to think of something—anything—to break the silence, to get her to acknowledge the project, but nothing came to mind. It was like we were in different worlds.

Then, on a sudden impulse, I did something I wasn't exactly proud of.

I caught up with her and gently grabbed her arm—not roughly, but enough to make her stop in her tracks. She turned to face me, her eyes narrowing slightly, like she was trying to figure out why I was holding her.

I immediately regretted it. She was too soft. I didn't want to make this awkward. She wasn't the type to be touched or held back.

"Sorry," I quickly apologized, dropping my hand from her arm. "I just wanted to talk about the project. We can meet after my practice and figure out what we're doing for it."

Her expression didn't change, though. "Whatever you say," she replied, her voice flat as she looked at me for a brief second. Then, without another word, she turned and walked off, her steps calm and purposeful, like she'd already moved on from the whole conversation.

Did she just do that? Did she actually brush me off like that?

I stood there for a second, watching her leave, unsure whether I should be annoyed or just confused. Was she really that uninterested, or was she just playing it cool? Either way, I was left standing there, dumbfounded.

And that's when Matt tapped me on the shoulder.

"Good luck with her," he said, a grin playing at the corner of his lips. But the way he said it, with that almost sarcastic tone—it felt like he meant something more, like there was some hidden meaning behind it.

I turned to him, trying to shake off the feeling of being rattled. "Thanks," I said, though I didn't feel very confident about it.

As Matt walked off, I stood there for a second, looking after Astrid.

I'm screwed.