"This week you'll be working in pairs to write and peer edit a paper, which you will be expected to turn in next Thursday. The prompts are in this hat, which I will bring around once everyone has a partner," Ms. Sumner smiled cheerily, as dread soaked into my bones like a sponge in a rainstorm. This was so far from what I needed to hear first thing on a Monday morning. Or ever. "Alright, everyone pair up!"
I turn to the guy closest to me but he shakes his head, saying he's got a partner. Everyone was moving around the room, switching seats, chatting noisily. I couldn't tell who had partners already. Nobody seemed to be as lost as I felt. After a few minutes Ms. Sumner spoke up again. "Anyone who doesn't have a partner yet, please raise your hands and pair up!"
I awkwardly lift my hand into the sky and look around. There were two girls in the back, who quickly got together. I saw someone with their hand up across the room, but as I went to make my way to them the hand went down. They must have found a partner. I spotted Demian with his hand in the air and quickly looked around for someone -anyone - else to pair with, but there were no other hands up. I swallowed nervously as he beckoned me over. I shook my head and motioned to where I'd been sitting, then worried about how he'd take that. I didn't have much time to worry, though, as just moments later he was settling himself into the empty sit beside me.
"I c-can't see the board from over there," I muttered quietly, pointing towards where he'd been sitting. He just nods and makes a grunt, which I assume is a positive sound, but it's hard to tell.
Ms. Sumner gets to our table and Demian pulls our prompt from the hat. 'Zombie Apocalypse' is written on the small slip. She makes note of us and the prompt on her syllabus form and moves on. Zombies. This is good, this I can do. I glance at Demian and furrow my brows. His expression is..different. I'm not sure what's different about it, but it doesn't look particularly pleased. Maybe he thinks I'm afraid, since I'm not as strong or tough looking as him. I sit up a little straighter in my chair. "So," I start, trying to get my voice to have some semblance of confidence, "what kind of zombie apocalypse do you prefer? I r-rather like the trope of a lab accidentally releasing a virus. B-But, plagues are g-good options too." Damn my stuttering. He turns to look at me, his facial expression something akin to disdain. Did I say the wrong thing? Oh, this project is going to be so awkward. So, so very awkward.
"I don't like zombies," he states in a deep monotone.
I blink twice. "Don't like zombies," I accidentally parrot as I take in what he'd just said. His gaze hardens. Shit, even more awkward now. Great job, Adrian.
"Yeah." He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest, brows knitted together. "But, it's not like we can change it. We'll go with your pick."
I'm speechless. I open then quickly shut my mouth again, confusion clear on my face.
"Don't worry, I won't make you do all the work and take the credit," He states impassively, a dark look on his face. "I'll pull my weight."
I sit stunned for a moment before stuttering out, "I-I never said you w-wouldn't uhm-" He waived his hand dismissively and I abruptly shut my mouth.
We sit in awkward silence for a bit before I hesitantly start to toss out ideas. He jots down a few of the better ones and makes a bulleted list of concepts and details to include. A few minutes before the bell is set to ring, he holds his hand out and says "Phone."
I look at his hand in total confusion before I hear him sigh.
"We need to exchange numbers to work on the project outside of class."
"Ah, o-okay," I mumble, pulling out and handing over my unlocked phone. He enters his number and hands it back. I expect him to hand me his, but he makes no motion to do so, so I just sit there feeling uncomfortable.
"Text me so I have your number," he instructs after several long seconds have passed. I nod and quickly send him a text. 'This is Adrian.'
His phone blinks and he nods before closing the notebook and putting it in his bag. The bell rings and he walks off before I realize that he has the only copy of our work so far. Damn.
I shake my head, repeating my Nanna's words in my mind. 'Give him a chance. Don't let others judgment cloud your view.' He may not be so bad to work with, right? And, he was already working with me - he wrote while I brainstormed. That's a positive sign. Still, this is so very, very awkward. Oh, how am I going to do this!? I bump into Elijah as I leave the building and momentarily worry it was Demian again.
"Man, Adrie, where's your head at? You look like you saw a ghost," he jibes at me.
I take a deep breath and tell him about the project.
"Y-YOU WHAT?!" He practically screamed, causing a few people to glance over at us. My face started to heat up. "That's the absolute worst luck! I heard he doesn't work with partners, he either steals the project or takes credit for it after barely touching it."
I furrow my brows. That must be what cause him to say that earlier. He must have thought I'd heard the rumor and believed it. "I hope that's not the case."
"Me too, but his lab partner was just complaining about how awful he is to work with. He works on the newspaper with me. His lab partner, that is. Not Demian."
I mull this new information over and agree to be careful and to keep copies of all the work I put in. It's so hard to give him the benefit of the doubt when there are so many reasons for doubt. And he never denies the rumors. Not one. When he hears one he just walks away or stares silently at the person until they shut up or leave. If he's not guilty, why wouldn't he try to speak up? 'Maybe he's shy, just like you,' Nanna's words drift through my thoughts. He really didn't seem shy today. Aloof, maybe, but not shy. I sigh. I guess I'll just have to wait and see. Like he'd said, it's not like we can change it."
Just after third period I step into the hall to see Demian leaning against the wall across from my classroom. I swallow as he walks over to me.
"We can work on the paper now, if you have time."
His voice still catches me off guard, how rumbling and deep it is. I quickly nod my head and we make our way to the library, before my stomach reminds me that I need to eat something before my last class, since I used my usual lunch time to help Elijah with a project for the newspaper.
"A-actually, can we work on it in the cafe?" I ask hesitantly. A look passes through his eyes and I'm about to retract my offer.
"Sure," he says, changing directions. It takes me an extra second to catch up with him.
The kind lady at the counter, Leslie, hands us our food as well as a baggie with two cookies in it and I'm confused, but when I try to say that I didn't order them she just waved her hand at me and winked, smiling at us. I really don't know what to make of that, but I can't say I don't appreciate the sugary snack.
"So," I say quietly, settling down on one of the benches, "I think we should start with a plague that causes the cells of the body to deteriorate faster than they can regenerate. Scientists try to make a cure, and they think they've almost perfected it, when the first test subjects suddenly become aggressive. The cells regenerate faster, but the cure causes increased paranoia until the person is running purely on instinct and adrenaline." I pause, realizing I'd started talking faster and louder. I actually really enjoy zombies - the concept fascinates the scientist within me. I wait for Demian to say something, but he just sits there quietly. He's written more notes, so maybe that's a good sign. The silence draws on and I don't know if I should say something or keep waiting for him to. I shift uncomfortably in my seat and take another bite of my sandwich.
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