✩✩ Dedication to a Commenter! ✩✩
E i g h t e e n : Chemical Reaction
"Thin layer chromatography today," Mrs Lopez announces sharply, gesturing to the whiteboard behind her. She paces between the front desks, sliding her whiteboard pen into the pocket of her lab coat. Nobody talks over her. "Sort yourself into groups and follow the task sheet. I will be surveying each group in turn for anyone who has questions."
She makes a dismissive gesture with her hand, indicating for the groups to assemble. Even then, it takes a few seconds for everyone to begin talking. Mrs Lopez is young, only in her early thirties, but strict. She doesn't appreciate it when people aren't paying attention. For the people that put the effort in, she's the nicest person ever. I grab my papers from my desk and stand up, ready to join my usual group of friends at the front and begin the experiment.
"Monroe!" A familiar voice calls over the noise. "Get over here and tutor me."
I look over to see Chase, Dylan, Joe and Alec in the corner of the room. Joe is waving me over to their desk, his expression expectant. They've been in my chemistry class all semester, but we haven't had a group experiment since before I knew them. Now I suppose it's only right for me to go and join them. I offer an apologetic wave to the girls at the front and weave my way through the desks towards my new group.
I can't help but feel a little doubtful. This specific grade is massively important to me, especially now that I have no guaranteed place at Stanford, and, well...I know what these boys are like.
Dylan must read the apprehension on my face as I take a seat at their desk. "Don't worry, Ricky, I'll keep them in line. We'll focus."
"Speak for yourself," Joe jokes. He bumps shoulders with me, grinning cheekily. A pencil is slotted behind each of his ears. "I plan on causing chaos."
I roll my eyes, reaching behind my head to tie my hair into a ponytail. "Technically, it's chaos and Chase that are only one letter different."
Chase is sitting across the desk from me, leaning on his forearms. I can't help but be mildly distracted by the tanned skin and muscle exposed from his rolled-up sleeves. When he hears me mention his name, he glances up from the worksheet and winks at me.
God.
Alec hands Dylan a pair of safety goggles. "This is to protect you against their public shows of flirtation." He raises his eyebrow pointedly at me, and I realise that he's talking about Chase and me. Our flirtation.
"Chase only flirts with the prospect of getting detention," I counter with a smile.
Joe pauses, before shrugging. "She's not wrong."
Chase's eyes narrow and he straightens from his slouched position to snatch another pair of goggles from Alec's grip. "If you all keep talking about me, I will fuse your lips together with whatever chemical I can find."
"Cyanoacrylate would work," I hum, tightening my ponytail.
The boys turn to look at me in surprise.
I release my hair and smirk. "Chemical name for Superglue."
A moment of surprised silence passes. Then, to my surprise, Joe loops a strong arm around my shoulders and kisses me firmly on the top of my head. One of the pencils that are tucked behind his ears falls to the ground with a clatter.
"She!" He declares enthusiastically. "She is going to get me that A that I need!"
"No pressure," I complain, still tucked underneath Joe's arm.
Chase rolls his eyes and refocuses his attention on the worksheet.
"If you want an A, Travis, I suggest you start working," Mrs Lopez instructs from behind us, her tone critical. "You haven't even sorted your equipment out yet."
"Yes, Miss," Joe pipes cheerily.
"And Thatcher," Miss Lopez pauses in her walk by the desk to place a finger on the worksheet in front of Chase. "I suggest you make that work neater or get another person to do the writing. I like to be able to read scientific tables."
Wearing that classic Lopez frown of disappointment, she wanders away.
Dylan and I separate from the table to collect the necessary items for our experiment. Mrs Lopez always lines the asserted equipment at the back of the classroom, so it's an easy task. I grab a beaker, lid, filter paper, pipette and the plate. Dylan gathers the solvent and the analyte, and we grin at each other as we meet back at the desk. The teacher has moved on to criticise another group, so we have some breathing room again. I lay everything out neatly.
"Draw a line in pencil about one centimetre from the bottom of the plate," Alec instructs. Chase leans down to do so. His mouth is pressed into a thin line and his chirpy mood seems to have disappeared.
"He doesn't like Mrs Lopez," Dylan whispers to me.
"Yeah," I mumble back. "I can tell."
While Dylan uses the pipette to drop the analyte across the paper, I direct Chase to fill the beaker with a small amount of solvent. In this experiment, it's important not to use too much otherwise the results won't show. Chase nods mutely and reaches for the bottle. I lean down until the beaker is at my eye-level, so I can accurately instruct him about when to stop. Chase unscrews the cap and lifts the rim of the bottle to the edge of the beaker. The liquid drizzles slowly into the bottom of the beaker.
"Shii...ttake mushrooms!" Alec curses.
The sudden noise startles Chase, and his hand tips, releasing a glut of solvent into the bottom of the beaker. Alec raises his finger. The edge of the glass plate has sliced his fingertip, and already the blood is beginning to drip.
"You okay?" Dylan asks Alec. Alec nods but creatively curses again under his breath. Riley must be rubbing off on him, with her adorable alternatives to swear words.
Mrs Lopez is approaching us now.
"Crap, that's way too much solvent," I tell Chase, my attention turning back to the beaker. We're over the mark by almost fifty per cent.
"I can see that," he responds snappily. "Alec shocked me."
Someone is moody.
"Go and grab a funnel then and we'll pour some back into the bottle."
Chase stares at me incredulously. "Why don't you go and grab a funnel?"
I blink, surprised by his sudden hostility. I haven't done anything wrong, so I don't know why he thinks it's okay to snap at me.
"Everything okay over here?" Mrs Lopez arrives behind me, her eyes scanning the scene before her. Alec has left to find a band-aid for his finger, leaving Chase, Dylan and I staring gormlessly at her. Her eyes focus on the beaker. "Far too much solvent. You'll need to pour some back into the bottle. Funnels are in the cupboard at the back."
Chase releases an irritated sigh.
"Everything okay with that, Chase?" She asks sharply.
"Peachy," he mutters.
"Get back to work please. Maybe put somebody else in charge of pouring too." She gives Chase a pointed look, and I realise that she doesn't like him very much either. Dylan and I exchange worried expressions as Chase's shoulders stiffen with anger.
"I didn't do anything wrong."
"I didn't say you did," Mrs Lopez responds coolly. "Back to work."
As she wanders away to visit another desk, Chase hisses in frustration. His eyes are narrowed and darker than usual. He reaches out for the beaker, but his movement is too harsh for the thin glass. The beaker tips away from his contact and lands horizontally on the desk- the ethyl acetate spilling across the wooden surface. Chase curses loudly.
I don't know what to say. I just watch, like an idiot.
Chase's hand flies up to the back of his hair, and he tugs at the strands with frustration. Curses again.
"Chase," Dylan begins quietly. "It's oka-"
"Nah. No. I'm done with this."
He shoves Dylan out of his way without apology, and storms towards the exit. Mrs Lopez calls his name repeatedly, her scathing tone cutting across the ambient noise. He ignores her. All I can do is watch in shock as he slams the classroom door behind him, escaping into the school hallway.
Holy hell, I'm never going to get this guy out of the line of expulsion.
"What just happened?" Dylan asks slowly.
"I don't know," I respond. My voice sounds strange- detached, almost. Before I can even process what I'm doing, my feet are following Chase's footsteps towards the classroom door. I can hear Mrs Lopez calling me too, but I ignore her. I'll speak to her afterwards and explain. Dylan can clean up the solvent spillage. They don't need me. Chase does.
What am I doing? Why am I running after him?
I burst out into the hallway, lips parted, cheeks flushed. Chase is crouched against the wall of lockers. His shoulders are rising heavily with his breathing, and he's glaring at the opposite wall. He doesn't look at me as he speaks. "What are you doing?"
"I-I don't know," I respond shakily. "I came to find you."
He turns to face me, his expression cynical. "Why?"
"I thought you would want help."
My voice is coming out small and vulnerable, and I realise what an idiot I must look like for chasing after him. He clearly wants to be left alone, and I know absolutely nothing about his life or why he reacted in that way. I know how he responds when I push for personal information- he's just going to shut me down.
Chase is now staring at me, his chest rising and falling with every laboured breath. Even from his crouched position on the floor, he's intimidating. I'm just waiting for the cutting words that tell me to get lost.
"Why would you want to help me?"
"I'm your friend," I say, more confidently this time. "I want to help you."
Chase turns back towards the other lockers.
I release a slow breath to calm my stuttering heart. "I don't know what has hurt you, and I can't attempt to understand what you've been through, but I know you're hurting, and I want to help, Chase."
He shakes his head, still refusing to look at me. "I'm not hurting...this is just me."
"Okay well, I want to help make you happy."
This time he glances at me. "I'm not a project for you to fix."
"I'm fully aware of that."
He glares coldly into the opposite set of lockers, and I can see the tendons jumping in his arm from his tensing muscles. "I will never be like you, Erika."
I huff in frustration. "I don't want you to be like me!"
"Oh, come on," he says, turning to show me his scathing, doubtful expression. "You have loads of friends, great grades, a full family. Of course, that's what you want for me, but it doesn't work like that. When Stanford accepts you, you'll be out of this sleeping town like a shot and the rest of us will just be left in the dust."
"Chase-"
"I will never have what you have."
"Is that really what you think?"
"It's what I know."
I groan and pull my hands over my face. "I know I'm lucky, I know that, but so are you. You're smart as hell and you have amazing friends around you that love you- you easily have as much potential as I do Chase."
"Potential?" Chase repeats, tasting the word as if it's bitter. "You came to me to tarnish your reputation; I think that speaks wonders of my potential."
My hands slip down from my face and I watch him, dismayed. "Do you really not see it? Do I really have to shout at you, and be shouted at, trying to tell you how amazing you are?"
Chase climbs to his feet, positioning himself to stand directly in front of me. He's taller than me, not by too much, but it's still enough to silence whatever smart-ass remark I was about to make next. He stares down at my face. His pupils are dilated, and his cheekbones are still burning red with residue anger.
"No, Erika." He speaks firmly, but without anger this time. "Go back to class."
"No."
He groans, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Can you listen to me for once?"
"Why should I? You never listen to me."
"I never listen to anyone," he says with a sigh. "Just go. You'll get into trouble."
"I don't get into trouble for anything."
He laughs curtly. Then, succumbing to defeat, he slides back down the lockers to sit on the floor again. "Well, that's the difference between you and I."
I sit down next to him, crossing my arms over my knees. My voice is quiet, tentative. I'm fully aware that Chase is sensitive to triggers. "What's wrong?"
He looks at me and chews his bottom lip. "Nothing."
"You can trust me."
"I know."
I decide to push once more. "So, why did you get so upset?"
"I don't know, Erika," he replies, sighing. "I'm just not good with authority."
"Really?" I mutter sarcastically. "I could never tell."
"Shut up." For a brief second, I think he's almost tempted to smile, but it doesn't last long enough for me to tell. He kicks his feet out. "Everybody looks at me like they know exactly who I am, what I'll do...like they have me completely figured out before they even know me and they're already disappointed. I can't take it when a teacher stands over me with that smug face and tells me how rubbish I am, when I'm actually trying for once."
I stay quiet.
"It's like something takes over," he continues slowly. "It's instinct to shut them out, to stop them from hurting me. I get defensive and then I do stupid things."
"Nobody thinks badly of you."
"That's not true," he responds, glancing at me. "You thought badly of me before you knew me. Today I looked at you after I spilled that stupid solvent, and you looked so...so taken aback. I felt like a wild animal or something."
"You shocked me," I admit, choosing my words carefully. My hands fold over my knees and I notice Chase turn to watch them in my peripheral vision. "But I didn't think badly of you. I just didn't know how to help."
His voice is low, urgent. "Why do you want to help me?"
"Because I don't believe you really want to be bad," I murmur. I toy and twist my fingers, forcing myself not to look at the vulnerable boy beside me. He is like a wild animal in some respects- I don't want to spook him. "I didn't really want to be bad; I just wanted my family to notice me. I think you're the same. A much as you resist it, you just want someone to see that you're hurting."
I sense Chase shaking his head. "The minute your parents show you that support that you want, you'll go back to your perfect life and I'll still be here, Erika."
Finally, I look at him. "You think I'm just going to leave?"
"Aren't you?" he asks simply.
"No!"
"Why not?"
"I want to stick around and be there for you," I say firmly. My arms tighten around my knees and I can feel my heart pulsing with nerves. This boy pushes me to my absolute limits- one minute I'm shouting at him, the next I'm confessing. "If you want me to."
He turns away. "Even if you want to, you can't help me."
"Try me. Maybe talking to someone might help."
"I could get a counsellor for that."
Ouch. I can't help but feel a bit stung. After running out of lesson to see if he's okay, and risking landing my ass into detention, I thought he would at least be nice about shutting me down. At least he's being clear that he doesn't want me to badger him anymore.
"You can still talk to me. I'm here for you."
He shakes his head. The final rejection.
My chest burns. I begin to climb to my feet.
"Where are you going?" He asks sharply.
"Back to class." I sound pathetic and upset, and I hate it. I hate that he can make me feel like this. My emotions are so uncontrollable around him.
"Are you actually getting angry at me again because I won't talk to you about my problems?" He asks in disbelief.
"No," I snap. I pause in my step, facing in the direction of the chemistry class I should be attending. "I don't know. Maybe. It's just frustrating when you care about someone and you make effort...and they basically tell you that they don't need you."
"I didn't say that."
I turn to glower at him. "Look, if you don't, that's fine, but I'd prefer not to make an idiot of myself any longer. Okay?"
Chase stands up, frowning. "How are you making an idiot of yourself?"
"Because I'm out here, instead of in there, where I'm supposed to be."
He steps closer. "Then why are you out here?"
I throw my arms up in frustration. "Stop playing dumb. I'm your friend and I'm trying to support you!"
"I don't need to tell you anything," Chase says bluntly.
"No, you don't. You're right, you absolutely don't. I just thought you might want to," I pace backwards, annoyed at myself for making such a massive ordeal out of nothing. "I'm an idiot for thinking that. I can see you don't want to talk so I'm going back to class."
"Erika," he groans, grabbing my arm to pull me back. "Please stop freaking out."
"I'm not freaking out," I say, pulling my arm out of his grip. "I'm embarrassed."
"Embarrassed? How is it embarrassing?"
"Because I ran out of class after you! I embarrassed myself in front of everyone and made this big gesture and it doesn't even mean anythi-"
Chase puts his hand over my mouth to shut me up. His eyes are wild, running over my face in confusion. "It does mean something. It does."
It's only now that his hand is over my mouth that I notice how heavily I'm breathing. I try to relax, lifting my hand up slowly to peel his away. Chase watches me silently as my breathing steadies. We're stood so close that we're almost pressed together, and the urge to reach out and touch his jaw is excruciating. But it's not the time. I bite my lip in attempt to repress the urge, but the movement catches his attention. Suddenly he's looking at my lips.
Every part of me is tingling under his gaze.
"I know I'm freaking out over nothing," I whisper finally. "Please just ignore me."
Chase blinks a few times, then steps back. "No."
"Chase, I'm going to age prematurely if this argument continues."
"I trust you, Erika," he admits, visibly frustrated. "You infuriate me to no end, but I do trust you. I just don't talk to people about my home life."
I physically deflate. I'm acting so immaturely.
"I know. It's wrong of me to get frustrated, I'm sorry."
"I want to talk. Every time I think I'm ready to say it, it just doesn't come out."
"You don't have to tell me anything."
"Erika, will you listen to me?" He growls, pushing himself closer to me again. Somehow his hand is now loosely wrapped around my hand, and it feels strange and warm and addictive and I never want him to let go. "I said I want to."
I stare at him and nod, not trusting myself to speak.
Chase exhales. "Come over, after school."
"What?"
"Come over. It's easier if I show you."
"Chase, are you sure about this?" I ask uneasily. I feel like I've forced him into talking about himself now and he's right by saying that he has no obligation to tell me anything. I want him to trust me on his own, I don't want to guilt him into it.
His hand moves from mine to dance its way up my arm, leaving a trail of tingles from the contact. My pulse begins to quicken. He traces part of my cheek with his finger, lingering at the loose curl in front of my ear. Then, his hand grasps my hair bobble. He slides it out of my hair slowly, torturously, until my loose curls spill out over my shoulders.
Then, clearing his throat, he rips his hand away.
"I'm sure."
A:N/ Let me know what you thought about this chapter! I hope you all have a lovely Christmas, and find some happy light in these dark times <3
lots of love,
Lauren x