Chapter 11

The next day, I had a plan. A simple plan.

Avoid Oliver.

No eye contact. No conversation. No falling for that stupid, goofy smile.

I was determined.

And for the first five minutes of school, it worked.

Then Lena happened.

She slammed into my locker with all the force of a wrecking ball. "You like him."

I choked. "Excuse me?"

She smirked. "You like Oliver."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"Lena." I sighed. "The only thing I feel for Oliver is secondhand embarrassment."

"Uh-huh." She wiggled her eyebrows. "Suuuuure."

I ignored her.

Step two: Change the topic.

"So," I said quickly. "What's the plan for today?"

Lena's smirk widened. "Oh, didn't I tell you? Group project."

My stomach sank.

"Whose group am I in?" I asked cautiously.

Lena grinned. "Oh, just—"

"Hey, partner!"

I froze.

I knew that voice.

I turned around very, very slowly.

Oliver was standing there, looking way too pleased with himself.

---

Step Three: Accept Your Fate.

"Lena," I whispered, eyes wide. "What did you do?"

She gave me an innocent look. "Me? Oh, nothing."

Oliver flashed a grin. "Looks like we're partners, Amelia."

I squinted at Lena. "You planned this."

She gasped. "How dare you accuse me of something so—"

I pointed. "You're literally texting Daniel 'mission successful' right now."

She shoved her phone behind her back.

Oliver chuckled. "Come on, Mia. It won't be that bad."

I glared. "Name one time working with you hasn't ended in total disaster."

He thought for a second. "...Okay, but—"

"EXACTLY."

Lena patted my shoulder. "Good luck."

And then she ran away.

---

Step Four: Survive the Project.

We met at the library after school.

The first ten minutes went great. We actually did work. I was starting to think this wouldn't be a total disaster.

Then Oliver leaned over to grab a book.

Our hands accidentally touched.

I yanked my hand back like I got electrocuted.

Oliver blinked. "You okay?"

"Yep!" I said too quickly.

He tilted his head. "You sure?"

I turned red. "I—yes. Focus. The project."

He smirked. "Are you flustered?"

I scoffed. "Please."

He leaned in. "You are."

I panicked. "SHUT UP AND READ."

Oliver laughed. Too smug for his own good.

I ignored the way my heart did a weird little flip.

This was not happening.

Right?

---

Later That Night…

I flopped onto my bed, face-first into my pillow.

"Rough day?"

I groaned. Loudly. "Go away, Whiskers."

He perched on my desk, tail flicking. "I'll take that as a yes."

I turned my head just enough to glare at him. "Why are you even here?"

He smirked. "To remind you that you like him."

I sat up instantly. "I do NOT—"

Whiskers held up a paw. "Let's review the evidence."

I narrowed my eyes. "There is no evidence."

He ignored me. "One: You blushed."

I scoffed. "It was hot."

"Two: You panicked when your hands touched."

"It was static electricity."

"Three: You stared at him like a lovesick puppy when he wasn't looking."

I gasped. "I DID NOT."

Whiskers gave me a knowing look. "Mhm. Keep lying to yourself, kid."

I groaned and buried my face back in the pillow. "I hate you."

Whiskers chuckled. "You'll hate me even more when you realize I'm right."

I peeked up at him. "You can't be right if I never admit it."

Whiskers smirked. "Good luck with that."

And then, just to annoy me further, he curled up at the foot of my bed and fell asleep.

I sighed, staring at the ceiling.

My brain whispered Oliver's stupid smug grin.

I squeezed my eyes shut. Nope. Nope. Not happening.

…Right?