Nick Reynolds cleared his throat now, bringing me back from my reverie, and, as always, I was too stuck in the past to remember that in present day, I should not instantly look up at him with any kind of melancholia in my eyes. It usually only fueled him further. I was supposed to pretend to ignore him.
"Not right now, I'm trying to prepare for the final exams?" I sighed and dropped my eyes from his.
"Sure you are. But I don't recall being asked to approve questions about me in the calculus exam, stare much, Peterson? But maybe, possibly I'm mentioned in biology?" said Nick with his raspy, velvety voice and leaned over the table and placed both hands on either side of book.
"Sure, whatever. Bye, now." I answered as coolly as I could and turned the page. Only two seconds too late I thought of saying something more witty like the only reason why he would be mentioned in a biology test was to demonstrate the evolution from him, the caveman, to today's thinking humans. I would save that one for next time, I nodded to myself. When he didn't move, I said, "Okay, what?" And when he didn't respond, I finally looked up at his too sharp and cold hazel eyes. He already had that condescending crooked grin on his face and since I knew it so well from school by now, I sighed and said plainly, "What do you want, Nick?"
"Just to let you know that a group of us are getting together later at the Jet Grill," He said disdainfully. I didn't say anything, waiting for the punchline. "So you know where not to go today. Okay?" There it was.
I mimicked his fake smile and said, "Oh, ouch, I wouldn't dream of it!" I threw back annoyed at this line of insults. I had learned a long time ago that keeping my mouth shut bores him and he gives up instantly, but I was boiling over with three years of irritation, and hurt, and gave into it, "You know what, Nick, even if it was the last group of people on earth I'd rather eat mud, but thank you for the, oh, so kind and thoughtful invitation, Nick." I retorted as it thundered outside. Ha, great special effect, I thought smugly to myself.
"Those 'people' used to be your friends." He suddenly sounded genuine, with all trace of humor and mocking momentarily vanished. He quickly added sneeringly, his condescending glare and velvety voice returning, "That wasn't an invitation, Rosamund. Consider it more of a warning."
Grampy had named me. After his mother and my great grandmother.
"More of a promise, Nick." I snorted.
"You know you wouldn't be so adverse if I had come over to invite you, wouldn't you?" he said, so sure of himself, and so full of it.
"No. I would be even more adverse, maybe even slightly nauseated," I retorted again.
"Is that so?" He leaned closer over the table to me until he was only inches away and I could feel his cool breath on my face, and whispered lowly with smoldering hazel eyes, "You are going to break my heart," and then that crooked, condescending grin reappeared across his face, "if you would 'accidentally' show up tonight, when I specifically implied that it's a private party, looking like that and ruin the whole party, do you know that?"
I rolled my eyes, having heard it all before.
"When I say looking like that, of course I mean-" He started all too smugly.
"I didn't ask what you meant, fascist." I announced quickly.
"I'll keep it short and offensive then, like you." Nick retorted smugly.
I had a bold idea then. I widened my eyes at him. "Hey, you have something in your hair," I said, feigned a gasp and added, "Oh, that's only the 20 tons of pomade you use daily to produce that... Is it a bird, is it a plane? Oh right, it's Nick's hair. Sorry, my mistake."
