Mischa's P.O.V
I threw myself onto my bed when I got home. I groaned in annoyance when I took off my sweatshirt just to realize that it smelled exactly like Y/n. It was that heady mix of strawberry, a bit of peach, and some sort of flowery undertone. I liked it, but she annoyed me, so therefore the smell annoyed me.
Why couldn't she have just laughed at me and told me no when I told her to hold me? Why did that make me feel so weird and vulnerable? I hated feeling vulnerable.
...
Apparently, missing three days in chemistry felt like missing three weeks. I was far behind and I'm not even good at chemistry. I wasn't about to ask Y/n for help, either. She wouldn't even talk to me, much less acknowledge my existence. As nice as that sounds, I found it annoying. I'd had enough by the end of class on Friday.
"Y/n. If you will not speak to me because of what happened at your house, I want to let you know that it was not big deal."
Silence.
"I do not care that you let me do that," I tried.
"What do you want from me?"
"Nothing."
She shrugged. "Alright. Then you don't need to talk to me. It's that simple."
"I try to be decent for two seconds, and you give me the attitude. I cannot win."
"Yeah, sure. I'm not giving you answers to the homework, if that's what you were going to ask."
"I was not!" I frowned. "Whatever. I cannot deal with you today. You give me more big headache. I already have enough."
...
Y/n's POV
For an entire week after the incident on Wednesday, I avoided Mischa like the plague as much as I could. And for once, it was not because I didn't like him. It's because I was scared, but not of him. Every single time I looked at him, I remembered the clingy little boy he turned into as I held him. It definitely doesn't help that he's kinda hot. It dawned on me that I was at-risk for developing a crush on a complete asshole. I just couldn't cope, so I avoided him. Only, it gets kinda hard when I have to tutor him and I have class every day with him. He also comes over every Wednesday to check on his concussion with my mom, which I almost forgot this week. I got home from school, only for my house to be super hot. I wasn't one to complain about a room being too warm, because I tended to be on the colder side. But this? It was unbearably hot.
"Mom? Can you turn down the heater?"
She shrugged. "I wish. It's broken. We have repairs coming in about four days."
I frowned and trudged up the stairs. As soon as I got into my room, I immediately changed from my
school uniform into lighter, comfier clothes. I put on a black, v-neck tank top with lace trim and some pajama pants with the name of a college I wanted to go to on them.
As I went back downstairs to get my homework from my backpack, Mischa walked through the door. I completely froze. He lifted his head, looking at me. I wasn't sure if I was delusional, but I could've sworn I saw his eyes flicker away from my face, and... elsewhere... for just a second.
"Oh. It is you," He said, borderline disdainfully.
"Yeah. It's kinda like this is my house or something. Crazy, right?"
Mischa scowled. "Shut up."
He shoved his way past me into the kitchen where my mom was.
"Hello, Ms. L/n!"
His tone of voice did a complete 180° from the way he spoke to me.
"Oh! Mischa!" She turned around, enveloping him in a hug.
Mischa seemed to genuinely return the hug, which kind of surprised me.
"I am doing very much better. No more bad headache."
"That's great, sweetheart," She smiled. "I don't believe you need to check in next week. You seem to be almost completely better. Just keep taking it easy for the next week."
"No more check-ins?" Mischa echoed.
"I mean, unless you want to stop by and visit. I'm sure Y/n wouldn't mind."
"I am sure she would not," He said, turning to me.
I didn't respond.
Mischa chuckled and turned away.
I left them and walked up to my room to do my homework. After maybe fifteen minutes waist-deep into my math homework, Mischa barged into my room.
"What the hell do you want this time?" I sighed, exasperated.
He took in the setting of my room, from my bed to my walls decorated with musical posters.
"I need more chemistry help."
"No. I'm at home. You've got to wait until next Tuesday."
"Aw, really?" He whined. "I need help! I will be removed from hockey team!"
I took a good look at him. He continued looking around my room, picking up random objects, and setting them back down. He glanced back at me, waiting for an answer.
"Fine," I conceded, rubbing my forehead.
He grinned, and then sat himself down on my bed.
"Make yourself at home, I guess," I mumbled from my desk.
"Oh, I will," He said, reclining on my bed and stretching out.
I decided to mess with him a bit. "You seem pretty good at making yourself comfortable in girls' beds. Why is that?"
"I fuck bitches."
That did not have the effect I intended. "That's straightforward."
"Mhm," He looked up at the ceiling. "Girls love that. They do not like when guy is sneaky. Or has the double meaning. So I just keep it simple."
"Oh. That actually makes sense."
He nodded. "I know. It works well."
I was a bit curious. "Do you actually, I don't know, care about the girls that you..."
"No," He sighed, almost looking guilty. "Half the time, I do not even know their names. I just go to a party, flirt a bit, and if she is not drunk and if she says yes, I will take her home."
I thought about that. At least he was decent enough to ask for consent and make sure she was in the right state of mind.
"Hm."
"But it helps, you know?" He piped in.
"Helps?" I echoed.
Mischa nodded. "With the stress. All of the things I must do."
"Like what?" I scoffed. "Be popular, have rich parents, and captain the hockey team that our town adores? Poor you."
"You do not get it. Just forget about me saying this whole thing," He grumbled. "Just teach me the chemistry now."
The sudden mood shift caught me by surprise, but I pulled out my chemistry binder regardless.
"So, what did you need help with?"
"Naming compounds."
"Oh! That's easy! I can explain that to you," I smiled, flipping to the pages.
After about an hour of teaching, I finally set my book down.
"You know, you are not too bad," Mischa said.
I raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
"Yeah. Even though you are stuck-up and annoying. Not to mention-"
Holding a hand up, I stopped his sentence. "I'll just accept the compliment.
And then he laughed and he looked up at me with those gorgeous grey-green eyes.
And then it happened. I caught the plague I'd been trying to avoid for the last three weeks. The same plague so many girls had caught. All because of his stupid eyes and stupid little laugh. I glared at him, and he stopped.
"What is wrong?" He frowned.
"Get off my bed and get out of my room."
"Why?"
"Just leave, okay?"
He must've thought I was trying to be funny.
"Make me," He said.
Like hell I would. I grabbed his wrists, trying to pull him off my bed. It was to no avail, because six foot one and a bit of muscle mass was just a tad heavy. I didn't care. I was angry and confused and upset, so I kept trying and he kept laughing and smiling with those perfect lips and the little dimple on his right cheek. And then he pulled back. I didn't anticipate that, and I fell. Right on top of him. On my bed.
I pushed myself up, still on him. I'm sure my face was flushed.
"You alright?" He asked.
Mischa didn't seem the least bit fazed.
I nod. "Yeah. Just a bit surprised. But was that necessary?"
"Very."
And then he did the unthinkable. He reached up and pushed a hair out of my face.
I looked down at him, frowning. "What do you think you're doing?"
"My bad. You had hair in face. It annoyed me. Just like a lot of things about you," He made sure to add.
It was actually oddly reassuring to hear that. I made a face at him regardless.
"You can get off."
I immediately got off of him, brushing my clothes off.
"Can you get off of my bed now?"
With a groan, Mischa got off. "I suppose I go home now."
I nodded. "Yeah. You should."
Together, we walked to the front door and I opened it for him.
"Hey, uh..." I started. I wasn't even sure what I was about to say, and he stopped and looked back.
"Yes?"
"I hope your head gets better, I guess," I mumbled. "And make sure you study for the Chemistry test tomorrow."
His brows furrowed in confusion. "Oh. Thank you. I see you tomorrow?"
"Yeah. Go home now."
He chuckled as he walked out to his car, a nice red Jeep. I wasn't entirely sure why he even had a Jeep, given that it was northern Canada and it barely got warm enough to open windows in the house.
I waved a bit as he drove off. The second I turned around, I was immediately startled by Caspian standing in the doorway with his arms crossed.
"What were you doing up there with him? You like him, don't you? Why? Isn't he kind of a dick?"
"Slow down, Cas. I was tutoring him in chemistry. He missed a lot."
He raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure. But that was only one question you answered."
"I don't like him, actually. He's a dick. Like you said."
"Yeah, but he's hot. Some girls are into that, y'know?"
"What? Into him being a dick?"
Cas shrugged. "Yeah. Pretty much. That and the whole 'bad boy' motif he has going for him. Lots of girls are into that, I'm sure. But that doesn't seem your type, now that I think about it."
"See? You're right! Not my type. Case closed."
He held up a hand. "Wait, wait, wait. Case not closed. We're going to talk about this later. I might need to have a little chat with him about what his intentions are. I assure you, they're not good ones."
"Oh, he hates my guts. No need to worry ."
"Really? Because I swear he looks at you like he wants to rearrange them rather than hate them."
My face flushed. "Caspian! That's gross!"
"Just saying what I see. I mean, think about it. He's a teenage boy, and you're a hot tutor, given that you're related to me."
"You're not hot, Cas. Keep dreaming."
"So that makes you ugly by relation," He argued.
"Nuh uh! I just got the good genes. You got the ugly ones."
"Tell that to the girls that practically follow me around."
I sighed. "You're a straight tenor in the theater department. Of course they're going to be jumping all over you."
"You're just jealous."
I stuck out my tongue at him.
...
The next day was our test in Chemistry. For me, it was pretty easy. And Mischa? He did that test quicker than he'd finished any test, clicking the submit button with a triumphant smile.
In some act of uncharacteristic decency, he mouthed the words thank you. I gave him a half-smile before pulling out the book I had to read for AP Lang. Not even five minutes into it, I felt Mischa roll up my sleeve. I looked over at him in confusion as he pulled out a pen, drawing lines on my arm.
"Was bored," He whispered simply.
I glanced down and noticed that he was connecting the dots between a few freckles on my forearm.
"Looks like the star things," Mischa mentioned.
"Constellations?" I offered.
"That is literally what I just said."
"You did n—!"
He pressed a finger to my lips. "Shh. Others are still taking test."