Sour Sweet Love

Chapter Twelve

                "BLERG."

That was the first words to escape my lips upon seeing Liam walk past the school café, his eyes scavenging the unfamiliar territory for familiar faces. My first instinct was to walk up to him, to say hi, and to even insinuate a conversation, but then I realized that I never cared much for being a humanitarian.

I sipped my caramel latte because I was gone and Declan was the inexplicable culprit. Even with a glorious night's sleep and over twelve hours since our exchange, he was still fresh on my mind. I thought of him when I saw art; I thought of him when I saw brown-headed boys lacking direction; and I thought of him when I told myself not to think about him.

The fact that I had to return to Art class to finish this project with him was tormenting me.

"Avery!"

I choked on my latte. Then I saw Razor. "Oh, ha-ha," I heaved out. "Razor. Hi." Then behind him, I inevitably spotted Liam. "And Liam. You too. But have I mentioned that I'm actually out-of-bounds this morning? I don't want to see either of you right now, quite frankly."

Liam ignored me. "Hey, so where's room 307?"

"The seventh room on the third floor," I said incredulously. "Have you a brain?"

He rubbed his temples sheepishly. "Oh, right."

"Anyway, guys. I was being serious when I said that the morning is a time of solitude."

"It's nearly eleven," Razor said pointedly.

"Wait—" I blinked. "—what?" I checked my watch, which read half past seven. "Ha-ha. Good one, Razor," I complimented, wiping an imaginary tear from my eye. "Oh, that was good."

"Avery, your watch is wrong," Liam told me.

So I bolted to art. To Declan. "You're late," he commented snidely.

I occupied the empty seat next to him. "Sounds like you missed me."

"Only in your wildest daydreams."

"You don't want to know what happens in my wildest daydreams," I taunted. 

He looked up at me. This is the point where I must refrain from speaking about his eyes, but his eyes. Was this what it was like to be entranced—to be entrapped—by another? "You're desirable," he stated. "If I dreamed about you at all, I would be fucking you in my wildest daydreams."

I rolled my eyes. "So. This project," I digressed. Any ideas for the theme?"

"We should make a double perspective piece," he suggested shyly.

I leaned into him. "Yeah?"

"Like, on love—or something else. Whatever you prefer. You and I are complete opposites, Avery, so I think it could work well. Like a Yin and Yang dynamic or something."

"I like it," I told him, nodding slowly.

"So what is it?" he asked me with anticipation.

I eyed him curiously. "What is what?"

"Your belief in love."

"It's a myth," I answered cynically.

He bit his lips as he savored my answer.

"I hate the human fascination with love," I continued. "All it does is result in heartache."

"My brother," he said then, "he spited you, didn't he? He gave you a reason to stop believing in love and everything associated with it."

"Something like that."

"Liam's a dick in that regard."

"And you? What does the famous Mr. Andrews have to say about love?"

A coy smile graced his face. "I guess you'll just have to wait and find out."

*

                When art class—and a rather productive one at that—ended, Declan and I waved goodbyes in good terms for once in our lives. I was haphazardly shoving my books inside of my locker before my next class when Liam approached me.

"Not getting the hint, Liam?" I said to him.

He shook his head. "Don't tell me you don't believe in second chances."

"Not with you."

"So if I asked you to date me again right here and right now, you wouldn't consider it?"

I slammed the door shut. "No."

"Will you?" he asked me shyly. "Will you consider it?"

I narrowed my eyes at his face, at the way his eyes glistened with anticipation and his eyebrows that were scrunched in a gesture of sincerity. "I'm considering it," I told him. "Oh, I considered it. There. My answer is no."

He placed a hand on my cheek, making the area slacken with tingles.

"Liam," I chastised, slapping his hand away. "What is this?"

"My brother talks about you," he said cryptically. "It makes me nostalgic for you—for us."

"Oh, God," I muttered, rolling my eyes. I began the walk to my next class. "Leave me alone, Liam. First day back and you're already exposing your own shit."

"You'll consider it?" he pleaded.

I looked behind my shoulder. "Considering it. Considered. And the answer, once again, is no."