Not Another High School Love Story

4. Who We Are

It's been a few weeks now and things are still going okay. October's almost over already, and it won't be long before the end of football season and the state conference. In a way I almost find myself searching for more time, because I know that as soon as it's done, and Brent doesn't need my help anymore, then we'll go back to how things used to be. Even though I won't say it out loud I'm kind of enjoying how things have been between us lately. He still ignores me at school, we don't say hi to each other when we pass in the halls, but all that changes when he comes over to my house. Here we're always still equals, and I'm surprised by how much I'm learning about him. He's got a lot more depth than he lets on, and he's funny too.

Learning the new order of things is proving difficult, but I'll admit I like tutoring him. Grace is great and I love her, but I've never really been that close with another guy before, not like this. Maybe we aren't friends, Brent and me, but it's as close as we can get. He's oblivious as I watch him, reading aloud from the textbook as he scratches the tip of his nose. The corners of his mouth crinkle up, and he makes a joke to hide the fact that he can't understand the homework. He sits at the head of my bed, leaned against the wall with one leg hanging off, and I sit at the end, my own book heavy in my lap.

"I don't get it, what the fuck is a shared pair?" Brent squints down at the paper, perplexed.

"We learned about covalent bonds in the last chapter, remember?" I remind him, but he's only more puzzled when he glances up at me, and I can't help but chuckle. Whether he thinks so or not, he does know it, he actually did pretty well when we'd gone through the unit together. He's so quick to give up though, I don't understand it, he should give himself some credit. Luckily for him I'm more patient, and I thumb through the pages of my textbook until I find what I'm looking for. "Here, see? If you're having trouble we can go over it again."

"Wait, now you want me to do last week's reading again? Forget it, I need to take a break." With a frustrated grunt he tosses his homework on the bed and puts his hands behind his head, pinching his eyes shut. I don't want to push it too much, I understand where he's coming from, but I've tutored people with far less to work with.

"Come on, I know chemistry isn't sexy, but we've still got a lot to get through. Exams are coming up pretty soon, and I'll be damned if I let you fail now." My attempt at humor is rewarded with a small smile, but he refuses to look at me. I think it over for a moment and try again. "Look, let's just try to finish the assignment, if we hurry we can get it done in like half an hour. I'll even order a pizza if you want."

"Pierson, are you trying to hit on me?" His eyes open for the express purpose of squinting at me, and the sly grin crossing his lips crosses mine too.

"You wish." I reply, tapping the end of my pencil on his book. "Let's get back to it, shall we?"

"It's no use." He groans, resistant as he rolls off the bed to stand on his feet. Obviously my attempt at motivating him hasn't worked, and he stretches while he looks around my room. He's been in here plenty of times already, but he still acts like he's seeing it for the first time. I rack my brain for a better approach, but after a minute he notices the mess I've left out on my desk, and takes the few steps necessary to get closer to it. I fail to notice him until he's hunched down to get a better look. "What's this? So you are stalking me?"

"It's for the yearbook," I hurry over, well aware of the picture he holds in his hand. It's one of him that I'd taken during football practice a few days ago. I'm not lying, but for some reason I still feel embarrassed as I reach out to take it. He pulls it away, laughing as I lick my lips and step back. It's my fault, I should've put my stuff away when I got home, but I'd left it all sitting out. With no recourse I sigh and give up, "be careful with that."