Chapter Text
Otis sat, resting his head on his hand, gazing across the field, lost in thought.
Why hasn't she said anything?
He focused momentarily on Mr. Hendricks, scribbling across the blackboard.
It's only been a week. She's probably just...trying to figure out how to respond.
He's seen the way she storms through the halls, shielding herself from the world.
He's seen how she avoids eye contact with him, quickly evacuating her books from her locker, not letting anything in.
God, I'm so stupid. "Hey Maeve, just calling to let you know, I love you."
"So, the projecto mi studentos." Mr. Hendricks drawled, pointing finger guns towards the class.
"You'll be spending some alone time with your partner."
His words were met with uncomfortable stares and laughter from the class.
"No...not like that, that would be weird." He corrected awkwardly, scratching at the nape of his neck.
Eager to continue, he fumbled with his clipboard, flipping through the pages, before settling on one.
Otis flicked his gaze across the room, tuning Mr. Hendricks's monologue out.
She was intently listening, her index nail between her teeth, occasionally scribbling something down in her notes. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, with the exception of two strands that fell around her face. She was wearing the red and black striped shirt that he loved, wrapped in her leather jacket.
God, I'm so stupid.
"Right, your partners." Mr. Hendricks piped, breaking Otis from his thoughts.
"Adam, you're with Steve." He pointed at the two accordingly.
"Aimee, Eric."
"Colin, you're working with...Quentin." He spat.
Otis listened for his name, his anxiety rising as Mr. Hendricks proceeded down the list.
Please...no. We can't even talk to each oth-
"Otis, you're with Maeve." He concluded, flipping his clipboard shut.
A wave of emotions flushed through Otis all at once. Dread. Guilt. Excitement.
He turned to look at Maeve, where she sat, stunned, uneasy showing on her face. She quickly glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, before adopting a neutral expression.
He looked back at Mr. Hendricks, and opened his mouth to speak, as the bell sounded.
"Alright." Mr. Hendricks spoke, as the class began packing their materials and heading for the door. "You have until next Friday to turn this in."
Otis gathered his things, placing them in his bag and slinging it over his shoulder.
By the time he looked over, she was gone.
Shit.
Otis stood, exchanging books at his locker, Eric leaning against the lockers a short distance away.
"I can't believe you're partners with THE Maeve Wiley!" Eric beamed.
"Please stop saying it, Eric." Otis groaned.
Eric shot him an incredulous look. "You mean the Maeve Wiley whom you're in love with?" He added, louder than normal.
"Eric!" Otis hissed. "Keep it down!"
Eric rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. everyone knows it. Everyone except the two of YOU!" Suddenly, his expression changed. "What ever happened with that voicemail, anyways?" He asked inquisitively.
"She...she hasn't said anything." Otis said, almost whispering.
Eric paused, looking his friend up and down.
"Well? WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?!" He exclaimed after a moment. "Talk to her!"
"What? No I...I can't."
"Well, you're going to have to." Eric responded, his eyes fixed on something down the hall.
"What are yo-" Otis followed his gaze to a leather-laden figure in the distance, heading their direction.
He snapped his head back towards his friend, who donned and amused expression. "Eric!" He yelled in a whisper. "I can't!"
Eric pushed himself off the wall of lockers, before approaching Otis closely. "I think you can." He whispered in response, patting him on the shoulder before quickly departing the opposite direction.
Otis stood, his heart racing, refusing to look beyond his locker. He saw a pair of black combat boots appear in his peripheral vision, before his locker was gently pushed shut by the figure.
"Alright, Milburn?" Maeve said, her voice devoid of amusement.
"H-hey Maeve!" Otis murmured, gluing his eyes to his locker.
He felt her eyes on him, before she turned to examine the surface. "Something wrong with your locker?" she asked faux-innocently.
"Pft..no?"
"Why are you staring at it then?" She countered sharply, spinning back to glare at him.
Otis forced himself to look at her, staring into her deep brown eyes. He noticed her heavier, more aggressive eyeliner.
He opened his mouth to speak, but was unable to speak, opting to close it.
She mimed his movements, dramatically opening, and then closing her mouth, in a way which he found humiliating and somewhat attractive.
"Cat got your tongue?" She queried aggressively.
He forced himself to focus, breaking free of the spell she had on him, before answering. "No." he said firmly. "What's up?"
She smiled mirthlessly. "I thought you'd never ask." She adjusted he position against the locker glancing down, and shifting her feet to more comfortably lean against it. "Now, About this project of ours." She spoke, as he detected a hint of uncertainty in her voice.
"How do you reckon we do it?" She sighed, raising her hand to bite at her thumb nail.
He pondered for a moment. "Well...umm...we should get together and work on it."
"Hmm." She shorted, examining her nail. "I was thinking your place, later tonight." She paused, dropping her arm to her side, once again raising her head to make eye contact with him. "Say...around 5?" She added, trying to sound casual.
"Well........um.....that's-"
"Jesus christ." She mumbled impatiently. "It's fine, forget it." She pushed herself off the lockers, beginning to walk away.
"No, Maeve! Wait!." He pleaded, slightly louder. She turned back towards him, arms crossed, her gaze deadly.
"Tonight works. It's just...supposed to rain." He said sheepishly.
"Great." She spoke curtly, ignoring his comment about the weather. "I'll see you then."
She spun on her heels to begin down the hallway once more.
"And, Otis?" She called over her shoulder.
"Yeah?" He called from a distance.
"Best you avoid alcohol tonight, hmm?" She stated as she continued down the hall, not waiting for a response.
Maeve found herself leaning against the railing on the roof overlooking Mooredale's campus, a cigarette lit between her fingers.
"Sooooo...." Aimee lulled, breaking the silence. "Partners with Otis, are we?"
Maeve took a drag of her cigarette, relishing the nicotine. "Aimes, please, I really don't want to think about it right now." She mumbled, blowing smoke between her teeth.
"Fine." Aimee said nonchalantly, watching her from the corner of her eye.
Maeve gazed across the lawn, observing all her classmates migrating away from the building, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside her. She could feel Aimee's eyes on her, silently studying her.
"I'm supposed to go over to his house later." She said quietly, giving Aimee a look of uncertainty.
Aimee stood frozen, staring at Maeve with a look of shock on her face.
"What?" Maeve pressed, her nerves building.
"Babes!" She exclaimed. "That's great!"
"No, it's not. It's not fucking great." Maeve snapped, turning to look at Aimee. "How the fuck am I supposed to pretend like everything is ok?" She spat bitterly.
Aimee gave her a look of sympathy, offering nothing more.
Maeve hung her head, clouded with thoughts. "How am I supposed to forget all that shit he said at the party?" She asked quietly, trying to steady her voice.
"I'm sure you'll figure something out." Aimee soothed, wrapping her friend in a hug, resting her head on her shoulder.
Maeve gave a humorless laugh. "Thanks Aimes."
"I better get going." Maeve said softly after a moment, pulling away from Aimee.
"Alright." Aimee pouted. "I'll see you later, love."
She flicked her cigarette to her feet, stomping it out, before adjusting her bag and descending down the stairs to the roof. She glanced across the lawn once more, noting a familiar figure in a tri-colour jacket near the bike rack. She could feel the air steal from her lungs, snapping her head away and quickening her pace, desperate to depart from her reality.
Fuck.
Maeve found herself walking along the asphalt under the foliage, trying to prevent from collapsing in on herself like a dying star. All the while, replaying her conversation with Otis over and over in her head, picking apart his choice of words, imaging a million ways it could have turned out better.
"I was thinking your place later tonight."
"Idiot." She whispered to herself.
She pulled in a breath of the still, heavy air, noting the homogenous grey-white pigment the sky had adopted.
"It's just...supposed to rain."
She remembered the way he stumbled over his words, and his awkward yet oddly charming demeanor that she couldn't help but adore. It wasn't until then that she realized she was smiling.
Stop it Wiley. Don't coo over some stupid boy. He...isn't worth it.
The birds sat atop their branches along her route, filling the air with various chirps and caws, calling over the soft thumping of her boots, enriching her otherwise silent journey.
They have everything figured out, don't they, fucking birds. How about we switch...I can sit screaming at the top of my lungs on a branch all day, and they can have my shitty, terrible life.
It wasn't before long that she was walking along a familiar dirt path, lined by trees on either side. Memories swirled in her skull, leaving her hopelessly frazzled.
God...Otis. Those flowers. That stupid brown suit. Why did you even get me flowers? Why was it...why were you so...sweet?
She tilted her head up to gaze at the blank, stagnant sky.
How are you such a thoughtful, yet massive dickhead, dickhead?
She did her best to clear her mind, the rest of the scenery passing in an instant, as she approached the park she called home, careful to avoid Issac's prying inquiries and deprecating remarks about the state of their lives.
Slipping into her trailer, she glanced down at her phone, the time reading 2:33.
Great. 2 and a half hours until I need to face the dickhead I'm in lov-
She froze in place, silencing her thoughts for the first time that day, as it hit her like a ton of bricks.
Fuck .