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by May, McKinley

  "Afraid you won't be able to control yourself?" I ask with a smirk.

  She ignores my remark and picks up a burning candle from the side table, taking a quick sniff. Her nose crinkles and she blows out a puff of air, instantly killing the flame.

  "What the hell are you doing?" I gaze at her in awe. "Don't blow out my candles."

  "Sorry." Her shoulders raise in a shrug that says otherwise. "Not a huge vanilla fan."

  "Who the fuck doesn't like vanilla?"

  She jabs an index finger in her chest. "This girl right here."

  "Alright, weirdo. What kind of candles are up to your standards?"

  She thinks it over for a moment. "French toast. French toast scented candles are the bomb."

  "French toast?" My brow creases. "That's...an interesting choice."

  "They're the best. Try out sometime. I bet you'll like it."

  "Yeah, I doubt it. I'll stick with vanilla."

  "So stubborn," she grumbles as she twists her head around, analyzing the place. She points towards the kitchen. "Let's work over there. The innocent fluorescents are much more suitable."

  While she gets situated at the bar counter, I grab my laptop and Bio notebook from the dining room. I make a quick detour to the fridge and snag a beer before taking a seat.

  She starts speaking to me, eyes glued to her computer screen.

  "Okay, so I want you to read the question and your answer out loud to me, I'll tell you why your response is extraordinarily shitty, and then I'll help you figure out what the professor is expecting. Sound good?"

  "Yup." I flip open the notebook to my sparsely-filled page of lab observations from last week.

  She glances up, jaw dropping as her pupils fixate on the can in front of me. "Uh, what the heck are you doing?"

  "Having a beer."

  "I don't think so."

  "What? It's brain fuel." I double tap a finger to my temple. "Gets the juices flowing."

  "Your creative juices, maybe. Definitely not any Bio Lab juices. And seriously, if your first attempt at this report was a sober one, I don't even want to imagine what your intoxicated answers would look like."

  "Intoxicated?" I laugh at the thought. "Damn, it's one freaking beer."

  But apparently one is one too many in her eyes. She holds a palm out, curling her fingers in a 'gimme' motion. "Hand it over."

  I roll my eyes and slowly push the can her way.

  There's no point in arguing with this chick—she'll just wear me down until I give in.

  "Good boy." She wraps her hand around the cold aluminum. "Now start with Question One."

  I open the document and begin to read aloud like I'm back in middle school English class. "Question One: Describe Slide #10—"

  The sharp pop of the beer tab interrupts me.

  I watch in utter disbelief as Lexie brings the can to her lips and takes a long swig of the liquid. She catches my eye and wags her eyebrows up and down, taunting me.

  "Are you seriously...?" I can't help the entertained grin that spreads across my lips. "That's fucked up, Barbie."

  A normal person would set the drink down, cut the teasing off right there, but not her.

  Nope.

  Instead, she tilts her head back farther and starts chugging the damn thing, maintaining eye contact the entire time.

  Holy shit.

  This girl is evil.

  And damn if I'm not kinda turned on right now.

  When she finishes, she sets the empty can beside her, wiping her upper lip with a dainty finger.

  "Yeah," she says in response to the bewildered expression I'm sporting. Her face breaks into a huge, bubbly smile. "That just happened."

  "Jesus, Lex." I shake my head. "So you're allowed to guzzle down beers over here, but I can't even have a sip?"

  Her hands raise in innocence. "Hey, I don't have any questions to answer so I can do whatever I want. My homework involves reading and memorizing." She raps her knuckles against a science book to her right. "And a teeny tiny buzz isn't going to hinder that. In fact, it'll probably make it more bearable."

  My eyes travel to the pile of notebooks and folders spread out in front of her.

  "You have a bunch of homework tonight?"

  Her face drops as she nods. "Ugh, yes. I have a shit ton of reading to do. Like five chapters. That doesn't sound like a lot, but the print in this book is so small and the content so dry, it takes longer than you'd think."

  She pulls out a stack of notecards, handwritten vocab words on each one. "And I have a Med Terms quiz tomorrow over forty words. I haven't really had a chance to look at them yet, so that's great."

  "Damn. How many hours are you taking?"

  "Nineteen."

  "Shit, nineteen?" Shock colors my words. "Over full-time? You're freakin' insane."

  "My advisor wanted me to pack in as many pre-reqs as possible this semester. She said it looks good on the application." She gives a casual shrug and locks eyes with me.

  A flash of stress passes through her gaze, uncertainty and fatigue evident in her green depths. When she notices me staring, she quickly paints on a close-mouthed smile. "It's not too bad."

  I tip my chin towards the thick book in front of her. "How are you going to finish five chapters in that by tomorrow?"

  "Speed read and try to absorb as much as possible. I was planning on finishing it up in a couple hours, but it'll probably take longer since I've got to help you with the report."

  Fuck.

  Not doing my school shit usually only affects one person: Me.

  Now I feel like an asshole.

  "I can help you with your flashcards or something if you want," I offer, trying to salvage the fact that I screwed up her night.

  "Really?" she responds, her tone suspicious.

  "Sure. I'll do a lab problem, then quiz you on the words. We can switch off."

  "That'd actually be super helpful. I learn way faster when I work with other people. I'm definitely a study group type of girl." She gives me a grateful smile. "Thanks."

  "No problem." My eyes land on the empty Bud Light next to her. "You know what would be super helpful for me?"

  "What?"

  "A beer."

  She rolls her eyes and points to my laptop. "Question One, Weston. Read it to me."

  We work for the next four hours, only stopping once for a frozen pizza break when we get hungry.

  Finishing the lab report isn't as torturous as I initially thought. Once I actually put some damn effort into the thing, it's not too difficult to get my answers Lexie-approved. I show her I'm capable of creating a graph with the correct axes, and she helps reword my sentences into more professional-sounding answers.

  Look, I wasn't exactly thrilled when she showed up here earlier—how many dudes do you know who would be cool with exchanging a sure-thing hook-up for a study session?

  But tonight was entertaining as hell.

  Lexie's the most animated studier I've ever seen, and it's fucking hilarious. I guess when you read as many textbooks as she does, you've gotta find a way to keep it interesting. She popped in some earbuds and didn't stop bobbing her head and shimmying her shoulders the whole freaking night. I was aware she's hyper, but I didn't expect her to be dancing on her damn bar stool like a maniac, not a single fuck to be given.

  I'm surprised she's not banned from the campus libraries.

  It's a bit after midnight when I finish up the final question. I email her my work, she compiles our answers into one document, and we head to Cameron's room to use his printer.

  As I'm connecting her laptop to the machine, she takes a seat on his bed.

  "So what days are you free?"

  I hit print and turn to face her. "What do you mean?"

  I watch as she pulls out her phone and clicks on the calendar app. She starts scrolling through the dates before tapping a finger to her chin. "I can do Saturdays and possibly Wednesday nights."

  Reaching a hand out, I push her cell down and frown. "W
hat are you talking about? Free for what? Are you trying to ask me on a date or some shit?"

  She glances up, dumbfounded that I'm not following her train of thought. "To work on the report, obviously. You've lost your independence after this little fiasco we had tonight. From now on, we're going to meet up and finish the lab together every week."

  "Oh, okay. I see what's happening here." I nod slowly. "This is just some ploy to spend more alone time with me, isn't it? Can't get enough of me, can you?"

  "Guilty," she says with a sardonic smile.

  "Knew you couldn't resist, Barbie." I grab the freshly printed stack of paper and dig around in Cam's desk for a stapler. After attaching the report, I hand it to her. "I'm busy on Wednesdays, so Saturdays it is."

  "Saturdays it is," she affirms. "I'm holding you to that."

  We head out onto the front deck and exchange goodbyes. She's halfway down the stairs when she glances back over her shoulder. "Don't be late tomorrow."

  "Me?" I raise an amused brow. "Isn't that my line considering you were the last to show up on Monday?"

  Her cheeks go pink. "Fair point. But that was a total fluke—I'm never late. I can guarantee I'll arrive before you tomorrow."

  "Don't be so sure, Lex."

  "I'm more than sure, Weston. I'm positive."

  I cross my arms over my chest and grin. "Don't be."

  She laughs, waving one final time as she continues down the steps. "See you tomorrow."

  10

  7:24 a.m.

  That's what time I walk into the Biology building Monday morning.

  Arriving before the bell isn't really my thing.

  Shocking revelation, I know.

  I usually shuffle in ten minutes late, find a seat in the back row, and half-way pay attention so I don't fail the course.

  The earliest I've ever showed up for school was 9:45 for a 10 a.m. lecture.

  Not sure that counts, though, 'cause I thought the class started at 9.

  Barring that anomaly, I've never been this early for a class before, but Lexie's smug certainty lit a fire in me last night. The moment she left, I set my morning alarm for an hour earlier than necessary.

  She thinks she's got me all figured out?

  Think again.

  I take my sweet time walking to the classroom, my loud steps echoing in the barren halls. After a stop at the water fountain, I turn down the final hallway.

  Just a few seconds later, Lexie steps into view, approaching from the opposite direction. She's staring down at her phone, distractedly typing away as she makes her way towards the lab.

  "Morning," I call out cheerily.

  She jerks her head up, stopping dead in her tracks when her eyes meet mine. I give a little half-smirk and tip my chin in greeting.

  Yeah, that's right.

  I'm here.

  Not gonna lie, the look of pure shock on her face is extremely satisfying.

  Instead of reciprocating my salutation, she starts walking forward. Her boots tap against the floor, the rhythm of her steps increasing as she picks up the pace.

  I match her speed, watching as her gaze flits to the laboratory and back to me.

  It's obvious what she's trying to do—I recognize the competitive glint glimmering in her eyes.

  She wants to beat me inside.

  That's not gonna happen, but I'll humor her.

  She breaks into a quick jog, and in an instant we're both sprinting towards the room.

  Unfortunately for Barbie, getting into a foot race with a D1 Athlete is a loss in the making.

  Also unfortunate for her is that I'm not the type to just let somebody win. Doesn't matter who I'm up against: a teammate, a hot chick, my 4-year-old cousin during a game of hide-and-seek...no one gets a half-assed attempt from me.

  Her pursuit to outrun me is decent for a girl in winter boots, but I easily beat her to the door with time to spare.

  She comes to a halt in front of me, breathing heavily as she rests her hands on her knees.

  "Nice of you to finally show up," I tease as I lean against the doorframe.

  Peering up at me from beneath dark lashes, she somehow finds the strength to scoff.

  "I cannot believe..." Her words taper off as she pants for a few moments. "...you got here this early just to spite me."

  "Dunno what you're talking about. I'm just going about my normal routine, showing up for class half an hour early. Nothing out of the ordinary here."

  "Ha ha, very funny." Rising from her doubled over position, she tries to walk around me, but I block her from entering.

  "I'm a model student, Lex. You could learn a thing or two from me."

  "Shut your mouth." She jabs a bony elbow into my ribcage—which actually freaking hurts, by the way—and pushes past me into the room.

  After making sure all my ribs are intact, I follow behind her. I'm taken aback at the handful of students already at their lab stations, heads buried in their textbooks.

  Why the fuck would you show up this early unless you were trying to spite somebody?

  We head to Dr. Benton's desk where the guy is intensely focused on a jigsaw puzzle, the pieces scattered across his entire work space. Lexie holds out our report, effectively breaking his concentration.

  "My tardy pair is extra early this morning," he notes with approval. "Glad to see it."

  He grabs the analysis and begins to flip through it. His head nods occasionally as he skims through a few of our answers. "Looks like you two ended up being a good match after all. Any questions on the material?"

  "Yes, I have a few." Lexie plucks the report back from his grip, turning the page and tapping a finger to the paper. "I wanted to pick your brain about this one. I'm really interested in the bacteria from Slide #3..."

  And because I'm really not interested in whatever-the-fuck she's referring to, I begin to back away, slowly making my escape.

  I take a seat at our lab table and watch with curiosity as Lexie continues to chat with Dr. Benton for the next ten minutes straight. I still barely know the girl, but she's probably one of the most sociable people I've ever met.

  Pretty sure she could start up a conversation with a brick wall if she tried.

  After finishing up her lengthy discussion, she saunters over. Her head cocks as she notices the intrigued look I'm giving her. "What's up?"

  "So are you really outgoing or just a Teacher's Pet?"

  She laughs as she settles into the seat on my right. "Truthfully? A combination of the two."

  I shake my head. "Doesn't surprise me."

  "And you?" She makes a show of giving me a once-over. "You don't strike me as the Teacher's Pet type."

  "Abso-fucking-lutely not. Sucking up to professors isn't my forte." I grin. "I'd say I'm more of a Teacher's Pest."

  "A Teacher's Pest?" She chuckles. "I like that."

  A lab technician pokes his head through the doorway, catching the attention of the class.

  "Excuse me?" He inches forward, pulling a silver cart behind him. "I have the specimens."

  "Ah, yes. Come in, come in." Dr. Benton eagerly waves him inside. "The rats have arrived!"

  I turn to Lexie with a quizzical frown. "Rats?"

  "Yep, for the lab." When my confused expression doesn't falter, she expels an annoyed sigh. "It's on the syllabus, Weston. We're doing dissections today."

  Dissections?

  Oh, fuck no.

  There are about a hundred reasons I'm not into biology.

  Cutting open dead things is one of those reasons.

  When the ever-loving fuck am I gonna need to know what the inside of a rat looks like?

  As Jillian begins depositing tools and lab instructions at each station, I throw my notebook in my backpack and stand.

  "This looks interesting and all, but I'm not gonna be able to participate. I'm vegan."

  Lexie laughs so loud the lab tech nearly jumps out of his skin.

  "You are not vegan. I bet you eat meat with every meal." She levels me wit
h an accusing glare. "And I seem to recall sausage and pepperoni on that pizza we had last night."

  "Legit just converted this morning. Crazy fucking coincidence, huh?" I shrug as I sling my backpack over my shoulder and salute her goodbye. "See ya next week."

  "Give it up, buddy." She takes the tools from our T.A. and starts laying them out in front of us. "Nobody's buying that for a second."

  "Well, isn't there some animated opt-out I can do or some shit like that?"

  "Why?" She pauses what she's doing and squints at me. "Are you squeamish or something? You're not gonna pass out on me, are you?"

  "Fuck no." I huff at the notion. "I'm not a pussy. I just think it's freakin' creepy. Only weirdos like dissections."

  She frowns. "No, people who are interested in anatomy and physiology like dissections. They're educational."

  "Yeah?" I point to a guy at the lab station a few rows ahead of us. He's hunched over, mumbling to himself like a nutcase as he methodically sharpens his scalpels. "That dude looks real interested in the educational aspect of all this. Not at all wanting to chop things up and peel off the skin Jeffrey-Dahmer-style."

  She watches the serial-killer-in-training for a few moments before agreeing with my analysis.

  "Okay, so there might be a few disturbed folks who have...alternative reasons for enjoying dissections, but they are few and far between." Her eyes latch onto mine. "Give it a chance. You might learn something. Please?"

  She pushes out her bottom lip and bats her eyelashes repeatedly. It's a gag of a gesture, but it still gets the job done.

  "Alright, whatever." I toss my backpack down and sigh in defeat. "But you're doing all the slicing."

  "Fine," she says, her lips rising into a teasing smile. "You big baby."

  The only good thing about this lab is it's a quick one.

  I participate when needed, but Lexie takes the reins on this as promised.

  It's funny—her valley-girl demeanor and Disney Princess appearance would make you think she'd be skeeved out and squealing at an assignment of this sort, but she doesn't even flinch as she makes the cuts.

  In fact, she looks like she's done this shit a thousand times before, poking and prodding with the precision of a professional.