Calvin and mumbles something under his breath, then he looks over at me. I don't look at him. 

"I hate people like that. Privileged asshole thinks she can smother people with her opinion." He pauses and puts his hand on me. "Are you alright?" 

I look at him and smile a fake smile, "It's fine. I'm used to the judgement." 

"It's not fine, people shouldn't have the right to do that." He pulls me up on my lie and tries to soothe my anxiety. "Come on, are you really going to take that from her?" 

"Are you suggesting there's going to be two dents in your car?" 

He laughs lightly, "Maybe." 

We watch each other but do nothing. 

"I don't think she stuck around long enough to have details to report us." I say in an attempt to reassure myself more than anything, I know how much trouble I would be in if I got caught out with an Upper-class. 

"You can have my sweater if you want. It might help with the weird looks we get," he suggests softly, "you know... spice you up more." 

I'm confused. "Like to borrow?" 

"No." 

"No?" 

"No," he repeats again, "you can keep it so you can wear it when we're out in public." 

He wants me to have his sweater? 

"Oh no, you don't have to do that. I don't need another sweater to fuel my addiction. And I wouldn't know what to do with it when I'm not with you." I try to push off his offer. 

It obviously doesn't work. 

The next thing I know he's grabbing the bottom of his sweater, and pulling it over his head. He has a plain black t-shirt underneath so I'm not worried. But in the process, that starts to come up as well, then the panic sets in. He has abs? I mean, the more you know, but also, it is really not helping my case today. I already know I'm on thin ice. I force myself to look away before I become too of a flustered mess. 

"Here," he says as he pulls his shirt down. 

He must have noticed I looked away because he's smirking slightly when he holds the sweater out to me. 

"I don't need it." I say, sounding as convincing as I can without sounding mean. 

"Oliver, it's a sweater, it won't hurt you." 

I laugh, "I'm not that dumb." 

"But you're stubborn." 

"Exactly, that's why-" 

He turns to face me on his beanbag, levelling me with a determined gaze. He's not going to give up quickly. "Put it on, just for now." 

I took it from him. 

"Don't you need it?" I unravel it and look at it. I almost laugh at the fact it's a Calvin Klein sweater and smile at him smugly, "Wearing your own merch, I see?" 

He half laughs, half sighs, "That's what happens when all of your friends and family find it hilarious that there's a brand that has your name in it. Every birthday, Christmas or anything, I have to get something from Calvin Klein. Now, basically my entire closet is Calvin Klein. The end. But to answer your question: No. I really don't need it." 

"Well, you can count on me not to join that trend," I joke. 

"It's also a little small on me so I'm sure it'll fit you better." 

I access the sweater. It looks new, really new... and clean. It's also a crew neck, which is practically the only sweater type I wear these days, except maybe the occasional hoodie. I don't own very many clothes that are white, but that's mainly because I'm too lazy to separate the colours when I wash them all. And the brand isn't obvious, there's only a small 'CK' embroidered into the fabric, so I should be able to wear it around the house without my parents, or more correctly, my mum interrogating me about where it came from. 

I look up at him once again. "But I'm already wearing a sweater." This is the final excuse I have, so please work. 

"Are you wearing anything under it?" Calvin asks. I shake my head softly and drop my gaze. "That's okay, just take that off and put mine on." 

Smooth Calvin but do you really think I have the composure for that? 

I groan, "Fine." 

"I'll look away if you really want me to," he teases, turning around anyway and blocking anyone from seeing me. 

I just roll my eyes. 

I quickly strangle my current sweater off myself then pull Calvin's on and it easily slips over my shoulders. The neck of the sweater is a bit bigger than most that I wear so it exposes my collar bone, which I'm not exactly used to. I quickly attempt to fix it up. 

"Seems a bit big." I say and then look at Calvin who turns back to face me. He looks flustered. A light red blush rests on his face. 

He clears his throat, "It looks expensive on you." 

"It is expensive," I pause to feel the fabric, "And soft." 

He looks me up and down carefully while I pull at the fabric and fix it up, probably hoping I wouldn't notice, but sadly for my composure, I did. 

"Thanks for this by the way," I say, only slightly embarrassed of how much of a sook I was being about it before, "If you ever need it back-" 

"I won't", he smiles. 

Now he's the one who's being stubborn. 

I flop back onto my beanbag, using my sweater as a pillow. I cross my arms over my eyes to hide from the bright light pouring through the rafters. 

Calvin nudges me. "It looks good on you." 

I roll over and hide even more, tucking up into a ball. "Shut up." 

A yawn brings my attention away from the happy swirl of chemicals I'm trying so hard to hide from Calvin's awareness. I stretch out and shut my eyes. I hear Calvin move but don't bother to open my eyes. 

"Did you want some coffee, Coke, Pepsi or something else with caffeine in it to keep you awake?" He asks. 

I open my eyes, "I'd have a Pepsi but I don't have money." 

"Good choice, one Pepsi coming up." he walks off towards the front of the library. 

"You don't have to do that..." No response. "Calvin?" 

And he's gone. 

When he comes back, he has a coffee in one hand and a can of Pepsi in the other. He smiles at me and holds out the Pepsi. I take it begrudgingly. 

"You didn't have to," I say as I open the can, careful not to get any on the sweater. 

"But I did, and besides, I don't mind spending money on people." 

I laugh, "Clearly." 

We sit there in silence, enjoying our drinks, until he notices me watching him sip at his coffee. 

"Are you a coffee drinker?" He asks. 

"Only crappy instant coffee. I don't usually buy coffee either; energy drinks are better." 

"Have you had a coffee from the barista here?" Calvin questions and I shake my head. He gawks at me, "Really?" Then he holds out his cup, "Here. Try some." 

"Stop trying to give me things," I tease, but he remains persistent. I put my Pepsi down and slowly took the cup from his hand, "Are you sure?" 

He nods. 

"Do you want me to take the lid off?" I ask just in case. 

"It doesn't matter." 

I look at the cup for a while then up to Calvin. He nods at me slowly. I hold it up to my mouth and take a careful sip. 

It's not as bitter as I remember, and it's sweet, but not overpowering. It must be a mocha or special latte for sure. There's no way that this is just a regular coffee otherwise I've really been missing out. It's nice. Warm... creamy. Much better than Pepsi. 

I get a little lost in the moment and almost completely forget that I'm drinking from Calvin's cup. The cup he was drinking from. He's definitely setting me up for disaster and I cannot tell if he's doing it deliberately. Why am I such a mess for him? The warmth from the coffee is then recreated by my face, which I can imagine, is nearing bright pink. So, I take action, swiftly giving Calvin his drink back, and then I wipe my mouth with my hand (and not the sweater), making a solid attempt to suppress or hide the warmth in my cheeks. 

God... I really am a mess. 

Calvin looks at me, "So? How was it?" 

"If I tell you the honest truth you're probably going to try and give it to me or something like the selfless prick you are, so I'll just say it was very good," I say from behind my hand before slouching into my beanbag. 

He laughs, "Can I just ask you what in the world would keep you from the luxury of coffee?" 

"Mainly my mum, because she always gets annoyed when I 'waste her money'," I say. 

He thinks it over then nods, "What is your mum like?" I tense up and he notices, "Sorry, I know that's probably a bit personal" 

"No." I sit up a little too fast and my head spins. "It's just... She's..." I don't know where to start. "We don't get along." 

Unsure of what to say, Calvin just listens. 

I know I've mentioned slight things about my mum to him before, but I usually stop myself from saying too much. People don't exactly know how to react to the words 'abusive mother' so I don't really say them anymore. But now, I find myself opening up to Calvin more and more. So, even though I really don't like dumping my feelings onto people, I tell him the basic idea of what my mother and I are like. 

Calvin really does make me feel like I can tell him anything, and it's so nice to have someone to rely on, but I decide to stop myself. Maybe I should change the topic. 

I sigh, "Sorry, this is probably really depressing for you-" 

Calvin interrupts me, "No way. I'd listen to whatever you had to say. Like how you listened to me complain about my friends." 

I smile apologetically, "But I don't want to be a burden-" 

He shushes me comically, lifting the mood a little, "You know there's really no reason for you to live under the impression that you are a burden, right? I mean, if you never talked about it, it would be worse than telling someone everything," he pauses briefly, "and besides, how could you be a burden if I would willingly give you anything?" 

His words seem to linger in the air while I recover from the shock of them. What Calvin said took me by surprise because that's honestly the most thoughtful thing anyone's ever said to me. The sweetest even. I'll admit it is kind of weird to tell Calvin about all of this and actually have him listen to me, because he's almost like a lovely stranger to me. Although I guess I have known him for a few weeks. I feel like I should have known him so much longer. But I'm just glad to finally have someone to talk to. 

After a while, we started talking again. He goes out of his way to make me laugh and take my mind off things, even if that's kind of his usual. It works anyway, and it's not until he's driven me to the train station that I realise I was even sad. 

I stand there watching him through his car window. This is when we say our routine goodbyes but I really don't want to. I want to spend more time with him... be closer to him. But I should be getting home. 

"Goodbye Calvin Wood," I say with a horrible, rich British accent. 

He rolls his eyes at me but laughs, "Goodbye Oliver Night." 

Right now, I want nothing more than to hug him and thank him for everything, but I don't. I watch him pull out of the waiting bay and speed off down the road, out into the darkening sky. Then, reluctantly make my way into the station. 

I drop down on a bench and pull the collar of Calvin's sweater over my nose. It smells like him. I let myself sink into my seat, lost in the thought of him.