We Never Change || Michael Clifford

Chapter 17

 

Chapter 17

 

Adelia’s P.O.V.

 

After the horribly awkward dinner, the guys pick up the dishes and clean the kitchen. I walk upstairs to my room and sit down on my bed. I pull out my homework and bite my lip, trying hard to focus on my homework. I tap my pencil impatiently, my eyes skimming the paper. I can’t focus. I’ve never been able to. I’ve had an attention-deficit disorder since I was little. It’s hard for me to focus on anything for too long, especially math class which has homework associated with it. In my words, a living hell.

There’s a knock on my door and I set my things down, grateful for the distraction. “Come in.” I say. The door opens and Michael leans against the doorframe.

“Hi.” He says quietly. I wave. “You doing math?” I nod. “Need some help?” I bite my lip. He’s not making this ‘no-talking’ thing easier. We’re supposed to be ignoring each other, but instead he’s offering to help me with my math. “How about this?” He starts. “We have an hour, each day where I help you with your math. You ask me questions, I’ll give you answers. No strings attached. And let’s start with a week trial. I promise I won’t talk about anything else. Just math.” He finishes with a smile. Fuck. I look between him and my homework nervously. I’ve being terrible in that class ever since he stopped helping me.

“Okay.” I say quietly.

“Great. Now, let’s see what you’re doing.” He sits down on the bed next to me, leaving the bedroom door open. Great. Less pressure. “You’re working with radicals. So all you have to do is follow the distance formula to get the area. You have to find the slope of all of these points and-”

“Slow down.” I tell him. “I’m not as smart as you.”

“You think I’m smart?” He asks with a smirk.

“Book smart. Otherwise, you’re stupid as fuck.”

“Got it.” He says awkwardly.

“I need the formulas. I forgot my textbook at school.” I tell him blankly.

“Alright.” He takes a piece of my notebook paper and my pen and starts scribbling them down. He hands them back to me and smiles.

“Your handwriting is horrible.” I comment.

“Faster brains write sloppier. Which explains why your handwriting is so good.” He says with a smirk.

I roll my eyes with a laugh. “Wow, Michael. Wow.” I look at my assignment and tap my pencil.

“Want me to write down the steps too?” He asks, after looking at me looking at the paper blankly.

“Sure.” I tell him.

He takes the paper back and writes down how to solve the problem. I follow the steps exactly and show him the paper.

“Wrong.” He tells me.

“What do you mean it’s wrong? I did the whole thing the exact same way you fucking told me to-”

“You didn’t carry the two.” He says.

“Oh.” I say quietly. I erase the answer and rework the problem. “There. Is that right?”

“Yeah. That’s right.”

“This is weird.” I tell him. I can’t handle the awkward tension. “We can’t just, pretend that nothing’s wrong, Michael.”

“I just wanted to help you with your math.” He says with a shrug.