I Am Plague

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

Cain and I haven't talked nearly all week. The only time I even heard his voice is when I was sitting in class, and he, to my shock, arrived a few minutes after me. I had set the notes I've been writing him in front of him on his desk, and he sighed and muttered a weak "Thank you." And that was it. 

I've spent all night perfecting my formula. And no, it wasn't perfect, but I sure as hell tried to make it be. I slept a minimum of forty minutes throughout the night and woke up just in time to get ready for the first trials of the Chemical Phenomenon competition. Today were the interviews. Next week were the votes. The week after that is where the fun begins. 

Though, for me 'fun' will be the last thing on my mind. I'll be in a hysterical panic for the next two months. If I even make it that far. I might get voted off next week.

I hope I don't get voted off next week.

Were I to be lucky enough to stay in the competition, television interviews, photoshoots, and around-the-globe speeches will be my future. Last year the previous contestants were sent to Germany for a ceremony. This year, we might be sent to France.

Exhilarating.

I already know Cain will be going. He's brilliant. He could practically be using this competition for a payed-for vacation if he wanted to.

I am not so lucky.

I sift through my tiny closet, trying to find the most professional outfit that I own. I pull out a navy-blue knee-length dress with lace sleeves. A dress I used to wear for church, now it just sits in the back of my closet gathering dust and cobwebs.

It'll do.

I curl my hair, and put on makeup, I make sure to put on a fine layer of lipstick, as I read an article once that women respect other women more-so when they are wearing lipstick.

I doubt that's true, but I need all the good omens I can get today.

I glance at myself once more in the mirror, before heaving a sigh, thinking this is the best I will look, and quickly exit my room. I immediately notice that Cain is still in his room, and I stare at his door in worry. Is he still asleep? Should I wake him?

I stand there for a few seconds before deciding I'd pound on his door. I raise my arm to do so, but jump back in surprise when the door swings open and Cain is standing only mere inches in front of me.

We both study each other. He's wearing a professional white button-up shirt and black pants and his hair is neatly combed and God, he's so beautiful.

I feel his eyes travel up and down my body before they rest on my face.

"Do I want to know why you were standing outside my door?"

"I was going to wake you." I say defensively, "I wasn't sure if you were up."

"I might be lazy, but I wouldn't sleep through this."

"I know, I know." I push away from him, and head towards the kitchen. I feel him follow behind me and I wish he wouldn't because just looking at him makes me want to grab him and kiss him, and never let go.

I make coffee for the both of us and when it's brewing, I try to find something in the fridge for us to eat.

I pull out two peaches that my stepfather had sent over. He always says fruit is God's medicine, and so Cain and I are always receiving packages full of fruit. Last week it was oranges.

I grab a container of vitamins from the cupboard. I hand him a peach, which he grimaces at (I don't blame him, we've been eating multiple peaches every day for the past week), and a vitamin. I don't tell him to take the vitamin, but I give him a look that basically says just that.

He takes the vitamin.

I lean against the counter, shifting the peach in my hand back and forth back and forth. Cain is leaning on the counter opposite of mine and we just stand there in silence.

I wish the coffee would hurry up and brew, but I also wish it will never stop. Cain is so close to me and so far all at once and I don't know how to take it.

"You look nice." He says after taking a bite of the peach. He doesn't look at me when he says it, but I can't help but blush.

I really need to get a hold of myself.

"You look nice too."

"I look dead."

"You look nice." I repeat myself, which causes him to smile a bit. If he only knew just how nice I thought he looked, he would probably be blushing too. At least, that is what I tell myself.

We are quiet for a moment longer when he abruptly says, "Good luck today, not that you need it."

"You don't need to patronize me," I grin, "I'm going to need something stronger than luck to pass the voting sessions next week."

"You'll pass."

"You're confident."

"When have I ever been wrong?" He's smiling wide now. His enthusiasm beams off him, and I melt at the sight.

"Well, I do remember that time you claimed you could cook."

"Was I wrong? I cooked."

I gave him an incredulous look, "No offense, but if you call that cooking, maybe you should be locked up for evaluation."

"It was not that bad."

"You're right, it was worse."

He huffs, "Cooking is just chemistry with food."

I point at him, "That right there is exactly what my stepfather says, and surprise surprise his food is nasty too."

"Now you're just being offensive."

When the coffee is done, I pour him and myself a cup, and hand his to him. We stand for a moment longer, just basking in the silence.

I don't know why, but at this moment all I want to do is tell him how much I care about him. A whole week of the silence treatment has been unbearable and watching him slowly crumble to suicide has been a nightmare.

"Cain?"

"Hmm?"

I could end everything right here, right now. I could drop out of the contest, I could tell him I love him, and I could hope that he even slightly feels the same.

All I have to do is spit the words out.

I love you. I love you. I love you. "Good luck." I am a coward, "Even though you are the last person who needs luck in a chemistry contest."

"You're right, I don't need luck." Arrogant ass. "But I'll accept yours."

I tell myself I'm going to tell him eventually. I'm going to tell him before the end results of the competition. I'll tell him I'm willing to drop out for him. I'll tell him he is everything to me and I want him to get better.

I just need to gather the guts to do it.

The university bells start chiming outside, claiming it was eight in the morning. We look at each other for a moment, before he turns away, and walks over to his desk, where he gathers the papers containing his formula. I move to my bedroom and grab my own formula, and I pray that I'm not about to make the biggest mistake of my life.

He waits for me at the door, and I clutch the strap to my bookbag like it is the only thing keeping me standing. He opens the door for me, and I walk out, him following closely behind.

I will not be humiliated. I chant over and over in my head. I will win.