Better Than This Chapter 7 Read Online for Free

"You want to go first?"

He shakes his head.

I pick up my notebook and clear my throat. It's weird to have it listed like this, but I guess if the pipe dream doesn't work out, I'll have to have backups. "Receptionist. Secretary. Maybe I could be an art teacher's assistant. I don't think it said we had any degrees."

"Didn't mention it."

"Yeah." I set down my notebook and glance at his list. He's only got a few scribbles but doesn't seem excited about either. "Yours?"

"Ideally?" He shrugs. "Bartending would make the most sense. But I'd probably just end up working for my dad."

"What does he do?"

"He's a carpenter."

I'm not sure why, but that surprises me. I don't know Alex, so every detail of his life is going to be new. But I guess artistic parents makes sense. I look at his hands, imagining them holding tools. And a guitar. And charcoal pencils. When I realize I've been staring for too long, I scramble to seem interested in my notes.

"Now we just have to find the approximate incomes we'll be making and incorporate it into the paper." I know what needs to come next. It's time to address the obvious, a sort of awkward interaction that was bound to happen. Might as well get it over with. "Think we'll need to work on this outside of class?"

He nods, shifting up in his seat. "Like, the research part of it. Yeah. Probably can't get that done here."

"Right."

He clears his throat and taps his pen along the spiral edge of his notebook. "We can meet after school today. Work on this in the library."

I wasn't expecting something so soon. I was thinking on more of a general scale that yeah, we need to work outside of class, and he pinpoints a time and place. It's Friday, and like usual, I have no plans. But there is one thing.

"That won't work?"

"It's just..." I roll my eyes at the ridiculousness of it. If I'd been smarter with the whole car-buying thing, I might not be broke with a useless hunk of metal. "Savvy gives me a ride to school. And home." I wait for him to put it together but he's just staring at me. "So...I'll - uh - I'll need a ride."

"Okay."

"You sure? You don't mind?"

"Don't you live near me?"

I have absolutely no idea. I guess we must live somewhere near each other, as we've been riding the same bus for years. But with the not acknowledging each other thing, I forget. "I live in Twelve Oaks."

"Yeah. Couple neighborhoods down from mine. We'll work for an hour or whatever and I can take you home after that."

"Okay."

We sit and stare at one another like we're convincing ourselves of what we just agreed to. It must be a solid minute before Alex clears his throat. He leans back, tapping his pen on his paper again, faster and faster. "No car, huh? That blows."

This is the part where I have to be honest, and it's nobody's fault but my own. "I do have a car. It's just a piece of shit."

"Ever try fixing it?"

"Fixing costs money."

"What about asking a friend?"

By friend, does he mean him? Are we friends now? I thought we were acquaintances who wanted to get through this as painlessly as possible. But he sounded like he was offering services. I stare at him.

"What?"

"Don't tell me you're also a mechanic." I hold my hand up in protest. "Because you had me at carpenter."

"Not me," the corner of his mouth lifts again, "Corey."

"Corey from Chronic Rage?"

"That's the one."

"I'm liking him more and more."

Alex clicks his pen a few times, weighing a decision. He leans forward, almost to the end of his desk. "You should let him look at it. He won't charge you."

"Why not?"

He shrugs.

I feel myself blush, so I look down, scribbling stars on the paper. This is stupid. This is so stupid. I hate that I turn red at the worst possible moments. And I don't even understand why I am. It's not like Alex read me a love poem. He's just being nice, which is what I tell myself when I force my eyes back to his.

"A ride home, a free mechanic...I would've been your friend years ago, had I known about all these sweet perks."

Then it happens.

Alex smiles.

It's not a bad smile either. It's actually pretty good-looking because Alex has the kind of smile that doesn't stop at his mouth. His lips curve up, transforming his entire face, and his olive eyes, which are normally narrowed and intense, burn with brightness. Seeing them like this, so different from how they normally are - to how they're looking at me now - well...it does something.

Awakens something.

"Your loss." He leans back in his seat.

"My loss," I agree, and go back to scribbling.

Alex and I have been working in the library for almost half an hour, and I can't stop thinking about his tongue-ring. I've been sitting next to him, wondering about the metal rod while I should've been focused on our project. On researching prospective careers. On getting an A, like I need. But all I can think about is the shiny object that peeks at me every time he opens his mouth.

"Didn't it hurt?"

Great job, Autumn. Really. Way to be totally random. I feel so stupid, but the question is out there. Can't take it back, especially with Alex frowning at me in confusion. I inhale deeply. "Your...tongue ring."

Enlightenment sparks and he shakes his head, focusing on his computer again. "Not as much as you'd think."

I should really shut up. I should let the whole thing drop, and maybe, if I had more sense, I might. "Doesn't it get in the way?"

"Of what?"

"I don't know. Everything?"

He shakes his head again as he scrolls down the page.

"Chewing? Brushing your teeth? Kissing?"

He looks over.

"I mean..." and I can't seem to stop the verbal diarrhea that follows, "...wouldn't it get in the way? If, you know - and she had one? Could they get caught somehow? Wouldn't that be uncomfortable?"

He starts to respond but waits, firmly deciding on his answer before he gives it. "If it bothered her, I'd take it out. But," he continues scrolling, "I haven't had any complaints."

Oh.

Then that means Alex has been kissing girls. Probably this whole time. He might even have a girlfriend I don't know about, someone who goes to a different school. Suddenly, I grow irrationally jealous. Alex has no allegiance to me; we aren't dating. He's made damn sure of that with all the glaring and avoiding me for the past three years. But still...the thought of him with sketches of other girls rubs me the wrong way.

"What about you?" He gestures to my wrist without looking at it. "Did that hurt?"

He's talking about my paintbrush. Last year, Mom took me to get the black silhouette on my left wrist. It's a permanent reminder of my goal to make a life of painting a reality. It's no larger than a quarter, and most times, hidden under chunky jewelry or long sleeves. I'm surprised Alex even knows about it.

"Not too much."

"See?"

"But yours is in your tongue."

"And yours is on your skin," he shoots me a look as if to say my logic is flawed. He frowns at my wrist and then continues scrolling. "Why'd you get it there anyway? No one can see it."

"It's not for them. It's for me."

Alex looks over like I just said something he never expected. A thought plays behind his eyes but it never makes it to his mouth.

"I saw your sketches yesterday," I blurt, not sure why I'm mentioning it. "In the art studio."

He stiffens.

I clear my throat, condemning myself for bringing this up. It's a tangent off the elephant in the room - one I hope we never have to talk about - but he needs to know how good his works are. How good he is.

"I like the one with the school buses. And the one of you skateboarding - I think it's you. I really liked how you were able to get so many different shades with the charcoal. It's really very beautiful."

His brows shoot up. "Thank you."

I turn back to my computer.

Quiet sits between us, but I can feel him watching me, trying to figure out what to say. "I didn't know you still sketched," I offer quietly, before he can think of anything.

"Sometimes. When I feel inspired."

Moved by the tone in his voice, I glance over. There's something heavy in his eyes, something that makes my heart race, something too deep to explore. Flushing, I break away and focus on the screen in front of me.

"I think we did...uh...we did good for the day. Yeah." I close my notebook and slide it into my bag, standing up. "You're still good with giving me a ride home?"

Alex frowns. He's not sure why I'm rushing this and to be honest, neither am I. It's not that I want to leave. But I'm not sure I can sit next to him feeling this strange twisting in my stomach, knowing that at any minute, he can look at me the way he just did.