Sour Sweet Love

Chapter Eleven

              I took a deep breath, embracing myself for the worst. I can do it, I told myself in consolation; I can face expulsion. Did being expelled from Victorian High bar your entry into any other institution for higher education? Did it mean being an escort was a possibility in my foreseeable future? So many questions were invading my mind. Then there was Declan: oblivious to it all with his devilishly handsome features.

Winning the genetic lottery didn't guarantee him much with me either.

"The principal is in his office, expecting you," Declan said. 

When I failed to react and simply remained glued onto the pavement, he released a sigh.

"What, Avery? Do you expect me to lead you there too?"

"Declan. Please mend this," I pleaded.

"The damage is already done," he murmured, vaguely pointing to the ceiling. When I followed his hands, I noticed that a video camera was parched atop us. Unsure of whether I should cry or scream, I growled. And when I did it again, Declan chuckled in his hushed, cryptic way. 

"God, Wilson. Did you just growl?"

"I may cry," I muttered in dismay, clutching my wet clothes. In that moment, I was the epitome of pathetic and I wished that I could change into clean clothes before facing any ramification.

Declan suddenly burst out laughing. "Avery," he said. "Oh, Avery."

I pressed my lips in a thin line of indignation. "What?"

"I was only joking. I didn't rat you out—"

"And the camera?" I interjected.

"It doesn't work."

With that consolation, I leaned into him and harshly shoved him on the chest. "You dickhead," I muttered in rage. "What the hell is wrong with you? Why would you do that?"

He remained on position, unfazed by my assaults. I expected a snarky comment or even a physical retaliation—because this was Declan fucking Andrews and he had no reason to feel anything short of resentment for me—but he, releasing an exhausted sigh, took my wet clothes from my hands and took them into his own. "Let's clean you up?" he offered. 

I blinked as a way to hold in my tears.

I led him to my dorm and felt the air growing increasingly terse with every step the two of us took forward. When inside, he racked my closet for a towel and gave it to me. I dried my hair and body; then it was time to change. "Are you going to stand here and watch me strip, Declan?" I commented sarcastically, but my heart was hammering sporadically by his mere presence.

His eyes widened. "I—uh—I'll leave," he said quickly.

"No, it's okay. I'll just go to the bathroom and do it."

He nodded. Then when I had changed and returned, he sat down on my bed with irises brimming inquisitively. "I wanted to ask out of curiosity," he murmured, scratching his ear. "What exactly happened between you and Liam?"

"Declan—"

"I get that it's bitter history," he added, "but much of Liam's life is a mystery to me. And you're in my life now. We have to do that stupid art project. And I don't know what that has to do with anything but just—please give me an answer. I don't expect one, but I was hoping for one."

"Why don't you expect an answer?" I asked him.

"Because it's none of my business," he responded curtly. 

"Then why are you asking the question?" I pressed, purely to antagonize him.

He chuckled. "God, I knew you'd do this."

"What this?"

"That you'd stray from the topic with your sarcastic responses. It's what you do best."

"Well I'm sorry to say that whatever happened between your brother and I is none of your business," I snapped, rolling my eyes. "I owe you nothing, Declan."

"Alright, whatever," he retorted, standing up to leave. "So I guess the last few minutes never happened and that tomorrow we're just going to continue on as the strangers we are to one another. More banter. More meaningless arguments. Whatever satisfies you, Avery."

"Just leave," I muttered, saying not much else.

He stood up from my bed. "I guess I will."

"Bye."

"Yeah, whatever. Bye."