"you know I'll take care of you. alright?"

It’s another day for you, a few classes later which tend to be quite overwhelming on you, you find yourself back in the small instruments room. You step inside and push the door behind you, but don’t realize how the door is left open just a peak. It’s extremely quiet; your footsteps echoing off the walls of the room as you make your way to the piano in the far corner of the room and drop your bag down on the bench and sit down next to it. 

You let your fingers play a few keys, your eyes fluttering shut as the sounds of the grand piano fill in the room. You let a soft hum leave your lips, in symphony to the melody of the piano. You sing the first few words of the song you’re playing, starting to immerse yourself in the bubble of just you, your melodious singing, and the piano. 

Rafe rushes across the hallway, the drawstrings of the shorts of his jersey hanging out loose, his laces open, and the t-shirt of his jersey tucked unceremoniously in his shorts. 

As he’s running, his foot gets caught in the open shoe lace of his right shoe and he almost trips right on his face but catches himself before he can trip, balancing himself on his shoes which squeak against the tiled floor of the hallway floor. 

He balances himself by holding onto the door handle of the slightly ajar door of a room, which he recognises as the instruments room as he finally straightens up. He’s about to make a run again; not really caring about his open shoe laces but the melody of the piano playing and the soft voice singing along with it catches his entire attention. 

He passes by the instruments room often, the hallway leading to the gymnasium where he goes for his practices. He often hears the sounds of various instruments being played, choirs practicing their singing, and he never really pays any mind to it – partially because he’s almost always running late, and partially because whatever he hears being played doesn’t catch his attention and feels too loud. 

But this, the soft sound of the piano synchronizing so perfectly with that melodious voice captures his mind like no other. 

The thought of running late for his basketball practice pushes back in his mind and he peers inside the room to hopefully catch the face of the singer. When he looks inside, he can just see the top of the singer’s head, the other instruments coming in his path of eyesight. He gets on his toes to maybe catch some more of the face, but he catches just a glimpse of the forehead but nothing more. 

Rafe leans next to the door and listens to the singing and the piano and lets his eyes fall shut, the music calming him down to an extent he didn’t even know existed. It’s only a few moments later when he hears the distant voice of a group of boys talking and laughing approaching closer and closer to him, which snaps him out of his daze. The group of boys round around the corner and catch Rafe’s eye. 

“Yo Rafe!” One of them yells out as he approaches him. “You weren’t there today? You’re lucky Coach was in a good mood today. You know how restless he’s been cause of the regionals coming up,” 

Rafe laughs softly at what the person he’s talking to has said, one arm of his keeping you close and the other hand holding his champagne flute. You’re not really sure if your mind processed what the older man says to the two of you, but your laugh comes almost instantaneously after Rafe’s does, both of them mixing together in a rich harmony. 

“She’s something, trust me, she handles her part during the matches very well, I know I can trust her to bring in the points,” Rafe smiles. You don’t know when the conversation had turned to you, but both the men are gazing at you and smiling, and you of course can’t help the smile on your own face. 

“I mean, Rafe’s just as good,” you say. “This is what we’ve always trained for, you know? To be able to develop an understanding on the court,” 

The older man smiles and nods at the two of you. “Well, you two did absolutely great tonight. Congratulations on your win again,” he says. “But, that’s not what I’m here to talk to you about,” 

The way the old man speaks sends a spark of worry through your mind, your smile slipping softly. You know Rafe feels a little tense too, with the way his grip increases just a tinge on your shoulders. 

“Oh relax you two,” the old man lets out a soft laugh. It seems as if he’s caught the slight terseness between the two of you. “I’m Frank Adams. And I’m the executive manager of Adidas. I loved you two on the court today, and I would like to offer you both a brand campaign,” 

When those words leave Frank’s lips, all the tension in you flushes out immediately. 

And so does Rafe’s. 

“A brand campaign? Are you serious?” He asks, and you don’t miss the elation in his speech.

“Yeah, a brand campaign,” Frank smiles with a nod of his head. “Nothing much, but I believe you two should be the face for our next line which is designed specifically for teenagers and young adults. You’re both beginning to gain a name. And I believe it should be put to a good use,”

The sense of giddiness that begins to spread to you is immeasurable. You and Rafe: brand campaign for Adidas. 

“Oh my god, where- where’s Cole?” You ask Rafe almost suddenly, gently shaking his arm. Franticness surrounds you both as you look around through the crowd at the beach, trying to find the familiar redhead. 

Cole Simmons is your manager, of sorts. He was appointed by Ward to help you both enter various tournaments without any delays. You don’t see him exactly as a manager because you and Rafe aren’t at that level of fame yet, but this? An opportunity for a campaign of a brand as big as Adidas? 

It seems as if he needs to be officially commemorated as your manager. 

“There he is!” Rafe says, and you spot him too. Rafe calls him out and that catches Cole’s attention, who is quick to be at your side. 

“How can I help my stars?” He grins, coming to stand between the two of you and flinging one arm around you and the other around Rafe. This action of his causes Rafe’s arm to let go of you. 

“Well, you see,” You begin to speak and you just can’t keep the grin off your face. “This humble man here is the executive director of Adidas and he offered us a brand campaign!”

“Oh my god!” Cole almost shrieks. “You both, let me handle this, yeah? Go and have fun.” He grins at the two of you and lets you go. Cole is going to make sure that the brand campaign deal really becomes yours, you just know that. 

You and Rafe come towards a more silent part of the party, finding yourself in a corner. He takes a sip of his champagne and looks at you, and you catch the expression of slight tiredness on his face. Truth be told, you’re tired too: playing the final match today and then being escorted to this party didn’t leave you two with any relaxing time. 

Before you and Rafe can even talk about anything, you’re approached by your mother, who’s quick to begin dragging you two to the dance floor. 

“Mom!” You squeal. 

“We’re here to celebrate you two yet you two are the only one who can’t be seen dancing,” she says, and you try to argue and say that you’re tired and not really in the mood for dancing, but nothing works on her, and before you know it, she has successfully bought you and Rafe to the dancefloor. 

You both stay standing as many people dance around you. The DJ stand is right beside you, the music bumping from the speakers, and your gaze falls on the banner behind Rafe. 

Rafe Cameron and Y/N Y/L/N

Winners of the National Championship: mixed doubles 

Below the text is a picture of the two of you that you got clicked when you accepted your trophy today. 

Below the banner is a small, high table where the gold trophy you both secured is placed. It reflects proudly under the moonlight, and that moment, you feel your heart fill with a meticulous pride for the two of you. You really can’t believe it: you and Rafe, winners of mixed doubles at the National championships at just 21. It’s the first win for either of you at this level, and this is one of the things you’ve been working towards since you met at the Academy at only 14 years of age. 

“Uh, I think your mother wants us to dance,” Rafe says, his tone lowered. You direct your gaze to where your mom is and see her glaring daggers at the two of you for standing still at the dancefloor. 

“Gosh,” You mutter quietly. Rafe places his flute at the bar table near him, his free hands now finding your waist, making yours wrap around his neck. You both sway around a little, nothing much, if you’re being honest. But even something this minimal grabs everyone’s attention and suddenly you and Rafe are the only people on the floor. Everyone is cheering for the two of you, and this only causes you to feel shy. 

“Oh my god…” You mumble, fighting the strong urge to hide yourself by burying your face in Rafe’s chest. “Everyone’s staring right at us, are you fuckin’ serious?”

Rafe only laughs softly, still continuing taking the lead and making you both dance around. “Don’t look at them, just focus here, yeah?”

Focus on Rafe, you can do that. 

You try not to think of anyone or anything else besides Rafe, and how he’s dancing you around so delicately, and how he’s keeping you close to him with that grip on your waist. It’s even easier than you think to forget everything else and direct your focus just at him, because you don’t even realise when you get so immersed in this dance of yours. 

“I didn’t get to say this to you but… good game, partner. It was a good game today,” Rafe says softly. He gives you a small twirl, which causes more cheering to erupt from around you. 

“Yeah,” you smile, your hands now resting on his shoulders. “It was a good game,”

The moment of your eyes sinking into his is cut short when the slow song in the background is changed to something more upbeat. Voulez Vous plays through the speakers and suddenly the dancefloor is full of people, and it seems as if no one cares about just you and Rafe dancing for everyone. 

This causes you and Rafe to separate from each other, now you both squeezed between jumping and dancing bodies. Rafe soughts for your hand and grips it, before pulling you out of the crowd and away from the dancefloor. 

You breathe softly as you’re finally out of the crowd, and you catch a glimpse of everyone dancing it to ABBA. A small smile cracks on your face watching all your family and friends enjoying this moment so much, a moment which is only possible because you and Rafe brought this win. 

You look back at Rafe, now feeling tiredness really begin to spread through your muscles and tendons. “I think I’m going to go back to the hotel,” you say. “You?”

“Uh,” he stuffs his hands in his pockets and shrugs, “I, I think I’ll be here a while,” 

“Oh okay,” you say back. “Well, when you’re on your way back, feel free to stop by my room. If I’ll be awake I’ll meet you,”

“Mhm alright,” he says. “Want me to take you to the hotel?” 

“Nah, I’m fine,” you say. “Just take care yeah?” 

Rafe nods at you and gives you a small smile. You wish him a goodnight and walk over to the hotel, which is right next to the beach. 

(...)

It’s almost 45  minutes since you came back to the hotel room. You’re finishing up just the last steps of your night routine, tidying up a little here and there around the room before you get into your bed and go to sleep. 

But, just then, you hear the bell for your room ring. 

You walk over to the door and take a peek through the peephole, and just as you had thought, it’s Rafe. 

You unlock the door and swing it open, to be met with him. 

But, the slight twist is that it’s not the normal Rafe. 

It’s drunk Rafe. 

And it’s not hard to tell that he’s drunk: with the way he’s leaning next to the door frame instead of standing upright like he always does, because he believes a true athlete should never be caught slouching, and, there’s the obvious reek of champagne. 

“You’re not gonna let me in?” Rafe asks, a gentle slur to his words which breaks you from your daze. You don’t say anything, just step aside to let him in, and close the door after he’s inside. 

“How much have you had to drink?” You ask, leaning back against the closed door. 

“Just a bit…” he murmurs, taking a step closer to you. 

“A bit? I seriously doubt that Rafe,” you say, shaking your head disapprovingly. “You need water yeah? Water to help sober you up, and an Advil just in case for tomorrow morning–” you begin to move away from the door and Rafe to get water for him, but a hand on your waist and a gentle push against the door stops you. 

“No no, I don’t need any of that,” he murmurs, his other hand also coming up to hold your waist and keep you pinned against the door. 

As the distance between the two of you begins to get more minimal, you can’t ignore the beating of your heart against your chest anymore, and the way how your mind and heart are at war about what Rafe’s next actions should be. 

“Rafe-” you mumble out, but he silences you. 

“No, none of that,” he says back, one hand leaving your waist to gently hold your cheek. You subconsciously lean into the warmth of his hand, your eyes almost falling shut at the gentleness. 

You lean your head up to meet his gaze, but the next moments go unprocessed, because the next thing you feel is his lips on yours. 

Oh gosh.

And this is how your heart wins. 

Your mind is screaming to pull back, to push him away – basically anything that means his lips won’t be pressed to yours. 

But oh, that softness, that sweet champagne taste, the gentleness; that takes you right back to that time, the time when you used to have more than one opportunity to taste his lips. 

Your arms find their way around Rafe’s neck, and his wrap around your waist to pull you impossibly closer. His tongue gently probes at your lower lip and you can’t help but part your lips for him, his tongue lapping with such tenderness against yours. 

A certain heat begins to surround you two as his hands squeeze your waist and his mouth lets out silent hums against yours, which you swallow immediately. The kiss begins to take a more heated turn with the way Rafe presses you so so close to himself, and it feels as if he just doesn’t want to let you go. 

The kiss continues on even when your lungs are starting to feel at the brink of loss of air. Rafe’s one hand lets go of your hip to find purchase over your thigh, his fingers beginning to gently trail over your inner thigh through your pajamas. 

When his fingers begin to hike just a bit higher, that’s when your mind’s alert signals actually work on your heart. 

You pull back immediately, heavy breaths escaping you as you attempt to push Rafe back. 

“Rafe–” you breathe, trying to create a distance but he keeps you close.

“Oh come on,” he murmurs, his face burying between the crook of your neck, attempting to press a kiss to your skin however he can. 

“Rafe, rafe no–” you murmur out, shaking your head. “We– we can’t do this again you know we can’t–”

“Oh to hell with that,” he breathes, a soft gasp leaving you when he gently nibbles at a sensitive spot on your neck. 

No, no you can’t. 

You can’t see yourself in this same position back again. 

After everything you’ve done, every emotion you’ve buried deep in you, your efforts can’t be brought down simply because of a kiss. 

As much as your body aches to feel it all again, you know you have to take charge here. 

With a firm push of your hands, Rafe stumbles back by 2-3 steps. His eyes meet yours and you can see the deep longing in them. You feel it too, but you choose to not show it in any way. 

His mouth opens to speak something but you’re quicker than him. 

“Don’t Rafe, just don’t,” you mutter through gritted teeth. “You can’t forget about the deal,”

Those last words really seem to do the trick to him. You can hear your heartbeat thump in your ears, and you watch Rafe take deep breaths as if trying to calm himself. 

A few seconds which seem to stretch over an eternity pass, and you both stay glued to your positions. Finally, Rafe turns around and walks out of the hotel room, leaving you alone. 

The eardrum-blasting music comes to a pause and your movements stop, heavy pants leaving your lips. Girls around you make their way to the bleachers and you do too, everyone sitting down to catch a breath of air and take a sip of water. A light chatter falls around you as the entire group is approached by your coach again. 

You can notice she’s aggravated, with the way her eyebrows are furrowed together and her gaze is set right at you: the head cheerleader. 

“The finals are next week, and this is what I am working with?” She says, all the girls around you falling completely silent as they watch the coach talking to you, making you her target – just like always. “No coordination, no movement, no organisation! If I wanted such a disorganised routine, I’d get the basketball players to do it instead! And they’ll probably still do it better than you all. Get your team on the right track, or you might not continue to be the head, missy,” 

Her sharp words shoot right at you, your gaze fixed at your feet. You can feel everyone around you glaring at the two of you; mostly you. 

“Yes coach,” come out your meek words a moment later. The silence prolongs as the coach’s footsteps begin to fade away and go silent, signalling she’s left. 

All the girls around you, including you, get busy with gathering all your stuff and eventually leaving the gym. It’s awfully quiet between all of you, usually a light chatter and a laughter always sneaks its way in whenever you’re getting ready to leave. But the heavy thoughts of the ever-exceeding pressure from the coach and the tiredness from constantly being worked to the very edge are evidently taking a toll on the lot of you. 

The quietness throughout the gym is broken through by the light chatter coming from outside. You’re still busy keeping everything in your bag, but the noise around you doesn’t go unnoticed. It’s not the basketball team – cause they’re so much more rowdy than this. Instead there’s a sense of quietness to the sound, leaning more towards a calming side. 

When you do look up, which is when one of your best friends tells you to, you see a group of guys entering, and the first thing you notice is how geeky they are. Almost all of them have glasses perched high up on their noses with their hair completely switched back, and the quiet air surrounding them completely finishes their nerdy aura. 

You hear a small snort like laughter next to you, and you realise it’s your best friend Lila. “It looks as if one of them will just start talking about… quantum physics or whatever at any moment now,” she mutters, causing your own lips to turn up into a smile, a small laughter leaving you too. 

You don’t know if it is actually quantum physics or not, but you can hear them talking about something in absolute gibberish in a group, barely understanding a single word of what they’re saying. 

Behind them, you can see tables and chairs being set up, and one of the first things that does catch your eye is a buzzer on each table. 

“Buzzer?” You say, a little confused as you watch someone get working on connecting the buzzer. “Hey Lila, what’s the freakin’ buzzer for?” 

“Uh…” she hums, pulling out a strip of gum and beginning to chew on it, and offering one to you too. “My brother used to do these too, they’re uh… these nerdy quizzes or some shit,” 

You can’t help but snort, chewing on the strip of gum yourself. “Nerdy quizzes? How pathetic,” 

“I know right,” Lila laughs, shaking her head as she picks up your bag and hands it to you, picking hers up too after that, “my mom used to force me to come to these. Somethin’ about supporting the family blah blah blah. They were so boring!” 

“Ugh, I can imagine!” You sigh, shaking your head as you hang your bag on your shoulder. You watch the group of nerds begin taking seats on the chairs set behind the table. 

Lila begins to go off about how she was always dragged to these ‘things’, which, when you read the poster high up on one of the walls of the gym, turns out are called ‘mathletics’, and the guys sitting are called ‘mathletes’ (could this entire ordeal get even more pathetic?). 

Turns out, it 100% can. Not for them, but for you. You see one of the guys from the team handing out a plain sheet and a pen and also giving instructions, which, of course, more or less fly over your head. He seems slightly taller than the others, but besides that, he’s got his glasses too, and his hair is also gelled back, not a single strand out of place. 

“Christ are you staring at one of the nerds?” Lila’s loud voice screeches in your ear and you suddenly zap back to reality, snapping your head towards her. 

“What? Ew no fucking way!” You scoff, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “I’ve got better things to do and you know that!” 

Lila sighs softly and then looks at the mathletes, scrunching her nose up in disgust. “Yeah, you’re right, we’ve all got better things to do,” She comments. She turns to look back at you and hooks her arm with yours. “Come on let’s go,” she hums, and drags you towards the exit of the gym. 

Before you can leave the gymnasium completely, you catch one last glance of the boy. 

Hm.

Interesting.

(...)

“Ah there she is! Our queen bee!” 

Loud cheering breaks out at the particularly crowded cafeteria table, everyone hooting and cheering out your name. You can’t help but laugh, taking your usual seat, Lila following suit. 

“Okay okay calm down guys! I’m not the queen yet,” you laugh, and Theo, who had initially shouted, nudges you in your shoulder. 

“Oh please.” he scoffs, picking up a quite stale fry from his tray and chewing on it. “You’re gonna be the queen. Everyone knows that. Right guys?” 

Everyone else on the table begins cheering again, and you can’t help but laugh, shaking your head at everyone’s enthusiasm. 

Theo, the captain of the school basketball team. Is it typical that the captain of the basketball team and the head cheerleader are closer than most? Yes. 

Is it typical that the two of you sometimes fuck around, but it always goes completely unsaid by the two of you, meaning there is not a single string of commitment between you two? Oh, absolutely. 

“Oh come on, you’ve got it in the bag!” Lila says. “You for the queen, Theo for the king, it’s the most perfect pairing like… ever,” 

“Damn right it is,” Theo grins, and all his friends aka his teammates cheer in support of him, one of them even giving him a slap on his back. 

“And,” Lila says, everyone’s attention diverting to her, “Theo has been working hard for your campaign, girly. He’s been going out there getting your votes,” 

You turn to look at Theo with a big smile on your face, showcasing how proud you feel of him. “Oh yeah?” You say, leaning forward, resting your chin in your palm as you look at him. 

“Mhm,” he hums, grinning at you as he takes a bite out of another fry. “Almost done with the whole school, and I think a lot of them are gonna be giving you their votes,”

“Oh that’s great!” You can’t help but grin, leaning forward to press a fleeting kiss to Theo’s cheek. Everyone around you cheer and shout, a symphony of teasing ‘oooh’s and ‘aaaah’s surround you both. 

“Oh shut up,” you laugh, playfully tossing a fry at Lila as you watch her being the loudest of all. She only shakes her head at your words, laughing with everyone else. 

The break comes to an end and everyone begins to file out of the cafeteria. You get your bag and follow everyone else with Lila on your side. 

“I’m gonna make sure you become the queen bee,” you hear a voice in your ear, and as expected, Theo is by your side. You grin at him, giving him a subtle nudge of your elbow. 

“I’m counting on it!” You call out over your shoulder as you and Lila take a different turn than the rest of them in the corridors, passing Theo a wink as you make your way to your class. 

You enter the class, and suddenly you’re hit with the odor of different chemicals mixing right in your face. 

Chemistry, ugh.

What would you not do to get this subject off your back?

The smell makes your face contort up in disgust as you both make your way to one of the last tables in the lab. 

“Remind me why we’re in this class again?” Lila groans as she sits down on one of the barstools, fishing out her mirror and lipgloss from her purse. 

“I wish I knew,” you sigh. Lila turns to you and begins to apply the lipgloss to your lips too, gently running the applicator to spread the shimmer. 

As she applies it, your focus directs over the door of the class, and a familiar figure walks inside. 

You furrow your brows as you watch a tall guy with glasses enter. Wait, isn’t that–

“Lila look,” you say, gesturing to the first table in the lab where he’s sitting. She turns around and looks at the guy, and then turns around to look back at you with a sharp arch of her brow. 

“Yeah?” She says, keeping her lipgloss back in her bag, but the mirror’s still out which she uses to look at her reflection. 

“That’s the guy from the gym, you remember?” You say, watching how he already is writing something in his notebook, his left hand pushing the glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

“Uh, no?” Lila snorts, gently poking a pimple on her cheek and grimacing at it. 

You roll your eyes at her behaviour. “Oh come on! He was there, he was a part of the– the math gizmiz, whatever it was,” you mutter, and somehow your gaze is just not shifting away from him, especially when one strand of his dirty blonde hair falls from his slicked back locks and curls over his forehead in probably the most perfect manner. 

“Girl I have no idea…” she mutters, now applying the mascara onto her long lashes, her hand movement slow and steady, “...what you’re on about,” 

Before you can even say something, the teacher enters the class, and everyone’s attention is diverted to him. 

(...)

Almost halfway through the class, your teacher is done explaining the theory and is now moving onto the practical part. You want to focus, you really do, but A, it’s chemistry so you having any ounce of focus is nearly impossible, and B, yes, your gaze is still dragging onto that one boy.

“Okay but–” you move closer to Lila, slowly murmuring into her ear, “has he been in our class the entire year? How did I never see him before?”

“’Cause all nerds look the same,” Lila scoffs, busy drawing doodles on the back of her notebook. “You can’t differentiate between them, that’s impossible,”

She’s right, but this one, he’s beginning to shine a lot more differently than the rest. 

“Okay! So, make your groups however you find fit, and get working!”

You snap your attention back to your teacher and see how students are putting on their own coats and are beginning to collect the chemicals and the equipment for their practical. 

You stare at the board, trying to make sense of what the practical is but you really have no idea what’s going on. 

Your gaze goes back to the first table, and you see how everyone is in a team except him. He’s alone, but he seems content with it, with how he has everything set out on his table and has already started working. 

“I don’t mean to scare you or anything, but this shit’s graded,” Lila mutters, and you see the ‘10% of your practical grade’ written on the board next to the experiment. 

Your gaze flicks between the board and the boy, and you just know, you need him to get your grade. 

“Gimme a minute,” you tell Lila, and before she can question you, you’ve slipped off your stool and are already making your way over to the first table. 

You step in front of the boy, who’s already beginning to note down readings from his experiment. That quick? Geez. A moment passes, another moment passes, and he just doesn’t notice a person quite almost perched on his head. 

You clear your throat to gain his attention. “Uh, hey,” you put on your prettiest smile and match it with your sweetest voice, and add a bat of your eyelashes as the cherry on top. 

He looks up at you, and keeps his gaze at you for merely a second before dropping his attention back to his work. 

“Yeah?” He says back, busying himself with the experiment already. 

Your small falls a bit at his air of indifference, but you manage to keep it up and say your next words. “I saw how everyone’s in a group but you’re alone… so I was wondering if you want to join me and my friend?” You ask, making your tone even more impossibly sweeter. 

He still doesn’t seem to gain any interest in you, his entire attention still at the experiment in front of him. Ugh, how is this lame experiment more important than you? 

Maybe you should add a hair twirl? That usually does it.

 But before you can take any further action, he speaks up again. 

“I’m fine working alone,”

Ughhhh. 

This is too frustrating. But no, you can’t let this show on your expressions. 

“Yeah but… me and my friend, we really need your help, we aren’t able to do this on our own,” you say, your voice now soft, a small pout on your lips, and batting of your eyelashes. There, now if that doesn’t do it–

“Okay, I’ll help you,” he says, closing his notebook. Before it’s fully closed, you catch a glimpse of the page he was writing on, and you see how his table of readings is complete. 

You let your smile widen as you lead him over to your table. As Lila watches you come back with the boy, she furrows her brows at the two of you. Nevertheless, you bring him over to the table. 

Before anyone of the two of you can say anything, he’s quick to get to the shelves to gather everything. 

“What are you doing?” Lila mutters furiously in your ear, both of you look at this boy work his way around the shelves effortlessly, as if he knows the placement of every chemical and equipment like the back of his hand. 

“We need help, we can’t be flunking this subject,” you mutter back, watching the boy come back and begin setting up the experiment. You and Lila fall utterly quiet as he sets up the equipment absolutely accurately. 

“Okay so…” he begins speaking, and you both direct your attention to him, as he takes you through every step of the experiment, explaining each piece of equipment and its importance, and how you’re supposed to use the setup to conduct the experiment. 

You actually can’t believe it, but you understand everything he says, and think to yourself, Has this always been this easy?

“Now you just write down each reading in here…” he says, gesturing to the table he drew for you on your notebook, “and you get your final result,”

You look over the table drawn on the empty page, the headings over the columns neat and justified. “Wow…” You murmur, letting out a soft laugh of pure fascination, “thank you-”

When you look up to thank the boy for his really generous help, you realise he’s not standing with you and Lila anymore. He’s making his way back to his table, and you see how he busies himself with his notebook again.

... you didn’t even get to ask him for his name.