Slow Burn | HS

play with fire

March 2017

March was Joelle's least favorite month.

Despite the spring solstice falling in this month, in Boston, slush still covered the sidewalks and the salt on the road damaged her favorite boots. The leaves hadn't grown back on the trees and the areas of grass that were exposed by melting snow were muddy and squishy. The world was brown and dead-looking.

It was that time in the semester when she started losing all of her motivation; when midterms began and made her so crazy that she wanted to pull her hair out, stress breakouts sprouted a few unwelcome blemishes on her chin and forehead, and the air remained so dry that she always had to have a bottle of lotion in her purse to keep her hands from getting sore.

Like always, she was struggling to get out of her "middle of the semester slump," but motivation to hole up in the library and study for a few hours came to her much more easily with Harry sitting across from her in a comfy sweater and beanie.

Although studying trading patterns of post-WWII Europe was not quite the same as studying technical principles, methods, and legal aspects of conducting an arson investigation, Joelle couldn't deny how much more enjoyable it was having him here with her.

Few words had been exchanged since Harry had arrived, toting a blueberry coffee for her and a French vanilla coffee for himself in each hand. Joelle watches him as he hunches over a textbook, biting on the tip of his highlighter with his forehead crinkled in concentration. As lovely as she finds studying in his company, she can't deny that the view is distracting.

Harry catches her gaze focused on him, her fingers poised over her keyboard but motionless. When he realizes she's staring at him, he smiles wryly, the dimple that Joelle has become more familiar with over the last month making a welcome appearance.

"What?" he laughs, watching her watching him.

"Nothing," she says quietly. Swiftly changing the subject, she begins, "When's your last midterm?" All of Harry's classes were online, but he still had designated times for each exam.

"Wednesday," he says. "Only two more days of this hell and then I can breathe again."

"Ugh, Joelle scoffs, jealous. "I'm not done until Friday.

"Yikes," he says sympathetically. "That's rough." She's about to ask him more about his finals when a figure walks up beside her.

"Hey!" Otto greets, chipper as ever, a Herschel backpack strapped to one shoulder and his phone clutched in hand. He unceremoniously pulls out the chair next to Harry and takes a seat, tossing his backpack to the ground and leaning down to unzip it. Harry looks at Joelle in confusion, but she just shrugs back.

"Hi, Otto," she greets, surprised.

"So I don't know about you, but I'm thinking for our Theories midterm we should mainly focus on chapter eight. That's the largest chapter we've done so far and we know Dr. Vee is a stickler for a good neoliberalism essay," Otto rambles, turning on his laptop and arming himself with two pencils and a pad of paper. Harry shifts his gaze between the two of them, still a little uncomfortable but slightly amused. "And after we finish outlining eight we can move on to-" Otto abruptly stops his train of thought when his gaze finally settles on Harry. "Oh. Sorry, man. You look like our classmate Rodney from behind. I thought you were him.

Perplexed, all Joelle can do is just stare at Otto. Harry looks nothing like Rodney, even from behind. Even wearing a beanie, Harry's dark curls are still visible, hanging down to his shoulders. Rodney is blond and has a buzz cut.