Colliding Stars |✔️

7. Baka

"Baka."

He rolled his eyes. "Okay. Fine. I am Baka or whatever. Just help me out here, please?"

Please. When was the last I heard that word from someone's mouth in this town?

"Ba-" I started.

He shot me a stern look.

"-Ka."

Everett groaned and threw his head back, running his fingers through his hair. I was almost amused but forced the smile away. He glanced at me and I looked at him. Suddenly, a staring contest had begun. Just a few seconds later, he blinked and his lips pulled into a small smile. This one reached his eyes. "You're so weird, Lana."

I scowled and he pouted, giving me a pleading look. "Now can you please help me understand this. Please?"

Here we go again with, please. And that...pout. What the hell was that?

Eventually, I gave in. "Okay."

His whole goddamn face lit up light a lightbulb. "Okay? Really?"

I nodded.

"Okay, great. Let's do it."

Reluctantly, I guided him through the whole problem while he kept asking questions to make things clear for himself and I kept answering with yes and no.

~

After two hours of maths, the school day was over and I pulled out my phone from my pocket and my scratched screen showed the time as 15:55. The school and the parking lot was empty because of the disadvantages of having advanced math was having to stay in school two extra hours after everyone had already jetted home.

I swung my leg over my bike and was adjusting my backpack when I sensed someone approaching me from behind. I whipped my head around and there he was with his hands on his backpack straps and his left eye hiding behind his hair.

Genuine astonishment touched his face. "How'd you do that? How did you know I was behind you?"

I guess it was an instinct. To always be on guard. Being The Sirens' spy thought me to be aware of whoever was around wherever and wherever. Always.

Ignoring him, I swung my leg over my bike and shoved my phone back inside my pocket.

"Oh. Wait. I know. That must be one of the reasons they call you The Wolf, right?"

Turning my head, I glanced at him. He was still standing there but now curiosity was plastered across his face.

"I like your bike," he said, making even more conversation than necessary by adding compliments.

"Do you like mine?" He asked. He nodded to the blue bike parked next to mine. I nodded. I did like it. Unlike mine, it wasn't old and rusty but new and shiny. Next to his, mine looked like a broken car piece from the junkyard.

When he had settled on his bike and we were heading out of the parking lot (together), he glanced at me. "Race you home...or maybe not? Your foot is injured, so probably not a good idea."