Luna

02 | chemistry

Another day passes, and this morning, we have a chemistry laboratory experiment, in which I've been paired with Max. While I'm already settling at the desk assigned for us, on which the equipment is already set, Max strides toward me.

Max wears his lab coat. I hand him the gloves and goggles.

"Thanks," he says, and I just give him a small nod.

I'm not a very talkative person, and I don't plan to change that, especially when I'm with him. I'm already shifting uncomfortably in my seat because of the glances other students throw at me.

This is only the second day since Max arrived, but he has already drawn more attention to me.

Mrs. Smith leaves the class to the lab assistant, who guides us with the procedures. Today, we'll be performing experiments involving the reaction of metals with acids.

I take the small test tube and place a few pieces of the metal into it, while Max mixes water with acid in a separate test tube. When it's time to dump the metal into the acid, I ask Max nonverbally with a questioning look, whether he wants to do it first or letting me do it.

"Go ahead," he confirms, since I'm about to do it anyway.

I pick up up the test tube containing the metal with the holder and invert the metal test tube over the acid one. Max watches with interest, but it takes a few seconds for me to realize that he's not watching the chemical reaction.

He's watching me.

And he keeps doing that even when I uncover the acid test tube and insert a flaming splint while the reaction slows down.

I clear my throat, feeling uncomfortable. Isn't he supposed to determine what gas was produced? He clearly has no focus on that if all he's been staring at is my face.

I try to ignore him, and he finally tears his gaze away from me while we're waiting for the reaction to sit until all the metal is gone.

"Have you figured out the balanced equation for this reaction?" I decide to ask before the atmosphere becomes more awkward between us. I flip the pages of my book before jotting down some equations.

Max sighs, opening his book too, but then he turns his head toward me, resting his chin on his hand. "Are you fond of being late?"

He's watching me with interest again, his eyes glinting with amusement.

Those emerald green eyes. They're so beautiful that I feel like I'm drowning in them.

Damn. That's such a random thought for someone who's in confusion. Yes, his question makes me confused. He must have realized it, because a small smirk touches the corner of his lips.

"Yesterday," he adds. "You helped me find our class yesterday. We should have gone there on time because, you know, Mrs. Smith is no doubt strict. So why did you purposely make yourself late?"

Now how should I answer that? Should I just honestly tell him that I'm allergic to all things that speak attention? All things desirable?

Oh, God, did I just say that he's desirable? Something is terribly wrong with my head.

"I had to go to the restroom," I blurt out.

He frowns. "You seemed to be in a rush, until I approached you. And you didn't seem breathless from hurrying when you finally arrived at the class," he pauses. "Do you hate Mrs. Smith's class?"

My brows shoot up. He's such an observant, isn't he?

Since I don't have any idea how to respond to that, I switch my attention back to my book, trying to fill my head with some chemical equations again.