All the Feels (10 page)

*   *   *

Mid-February brought an explosion of work. Although Liv’s life revolved around Spartan’s survival, the universe seemed indifferent to the amount of work on her plate. Her sociology professor believed in research. Not doing it per se, just digesting it. Liv had never read such tiresome articles. And it was for this reason alone, she assured herself, that as midterms neared, she’d started to make small talk with the people around her.… A behavior decidedly
not
her norm.

Liv wasn’t good at making friends. (Not in real life at least.) But in sociology the blond guy with the plaid jacket and the “Save the Trees” button walked up to her when the professor forced them to work in groups to dissect yet another theory on social status. Seeing the man’s hiking boots and broken-down jeans,
granola
was the first word that went through her mind. But as soon as he looked up, another word replaced it:
Spartan!
The man could’ve been his twin.

“Great to meet ya,” Granola said cheerfully. “I’m Hank.” He held out his hand and gave her a blinding grin. He was so blond, his teeth so white and even, Liv was momentarily stunned. He really
could
be Spartan’s taller, younger brother. The thought left her breathless.

She gave his hand a cursory shake. The toothpaste-ad smile carried on and on. He’d definitely had braces at some point, Liv decided. And maybe highlights, too. You weren’t just
born
looking like that. Were you?

“Sorry, I never caught your name,” Granola said. If he wasn’t staring right at her, she would have assumed he was talking to someone else.

“Oh, right. I’m L-Liv,” she stammered.

“As in Olivia?”

“No, Liv. Just Liv.” The floor didn’t open up and swallow her, but she wished it would.

“Well, it’s great to meet you, Just Liv,” he said with another enthusiastic nod. He pulled out the chair next to him and tossed his bag onto the floor. “Grab a seat!”

His bag, Liv noted, had a
TAKE ONLY PHOTOS, LEAVE ONLY FOOTPRINTS
sticker on the side. Liv rolled her eyes and wondered what sarcastic comment Xander would come up with if he saw
her
wearing it.

Granola leaned in, and Liv automatically recoiled. It was a natural reaction. People who looked like him didn’t talk to people like her. But Granola didn’t seem to notice. “Looks like we’re stuck together for the next while,” he said in a stage whisper. “Hope that’s okay with you, Liv.” He winked, but unlike Xander, it didn’t feel like a punch line. This time it felt like flirting.

Liv peered over her shoulder. No one else there.

She turned back.

“Do I have a choice?” She winced at the sharpness of her tone.

“Probably not. Profs like this like being in control.” Another grin. “We could do sociological research on them.” He laughed at his own joke, and Liv smiled warily.

“Um … yeah. But I don’t think she’d sign off on it. Ethics and all that.”

“Probably not, but if she did, she’d assign it as reading to her next class.”

“Of course she would,” Liv snorted.

Granola leaned forward, pointing his pencil toward the professor, who was handing out photocopies of the assignment. “Here we can observe the common Colorado professor, genus
Academia professorantus
in her natural environment,” he whispered. “She gathers her clippings the way animals gather twigs for a nest, sharing them with dogged determination.”

Usually, Liv ignored people, but Hank’s outgoing nature broke through her sense of self-preservation. By the time the papers were spread throughout the classroom, Liv was the one grinning as Hank made jokes. As impossible as it seemed, his smile had even grown by a few kilowatts until his face practically glowed.

“I’ll carry my share,” he added as the professor started up the projector. “Don’t you worry. I’m not a slacker.”

“I didn’t think you were.”

“Wasn’t sure. You never talk to anyone in class.” He grinned again. Perhaps, Liv thought, there were some people who just didn’t know how to be awkward. She definitely wasn’t one of them. “You just seem really focused.”

“About some things, I guess.”

“I love sociology,” he said. “Want to be a social worker someday, or maybe do some volunteer work overseas. You know. Change the world. How about you?”

“I—I…” But other than her occasional daydream of escaping the doldrums of Colorado, the only answer that came to mind was her #SpartanSurvived project, and there was no way she was going to admit to that. “I’m a freshman, so right now I’m just trying to get through the year without a meltdown.”

“Fair enough. But what gets you riled up? What’s your passion? Your dream?”

“I don’t…” Liv felt her cheeks begin to burn. She had no idea how to talk to strangers without a tech interface. She was 100 percent sure Granola did
not
follow the
Starveil
story line, and that made her feel even more exposed. “I’ve never really thought about it,” she answered lamely.

“But there have to be things that get you going,” Granola prompted. “The arts? Human rights? Feminism?”

Liv was saved by the professor starting her presentation. The lights in the classroom dimmed in response, and then all Liv could see was Hank’s smile, a Cheshire cat in the darkness.

“Tell me when you think of it,” he whispered. “I’d love to hear.”

“Okay,” Liv choked.

The half circle of his smile grew dim and then faded altogether as the professor started to speak. Liv lifted her pen, ready for notes. Her mind buzzed. What
was
she passionate about, other than
Starveil
?

Someday she’d have an answer for Hank, but it certainly wasn’t today.

*   *   *

The semester slowly crawled past. Sociology became the class Liv looked forward to the most (subject matter notwithstanding). It was clear Liv’s inability to come up with a “defining passion”—or one she could admit to—wasn’t going to be an issue. Hank was passionate about everything. And that left her out of sorts. She found herself doing bizarre things: giggling like a moron when he made a joke, touching his arm for no apparent reason, walking with him to the student union building during break to grab coffee, and, worse yet, dreaming about him at night. Hormones, it seemed, were making a much-delayed appearance in her life.

Liv was horrified.

“My brain is making me crazy,” she told Xander after their Wednesday-night film class. They’d watched
Nosferatu
, and Liv felt sympathy for the vampire in the film, at the mercy of his uncontrollable bloodlust. “I just need it to stop overthinking everything. To just turn off and chill about things.”

“Is this about Spartan again?” Xander groaned. “I thought you’d dealt with that, Liv.”

He wore tails tonight, and he slid on the silk jacket slowly, smoothing it over his chest. Liv, with her oversize parka and long knit scarf, felt like a hobo next to his old-world perfection, no matter how many odd looks passersby gave him.

“I wish it was. This is something else.” They walked down the hallway side by side, the rush of students moving past in a steady stream. “I think I’ve got a … fixation.”

Xander raised a brow. “Opium, I hope.”

She swatted him with the end of her scarf. “Hardly, I—”

“Cocaine perhaps? No, wait! Absinthe. It has to be absinthe.” They reached the door, and he tugged it open, a blast of icy mountain air hitting Liv in the face. “All the best delinquents—and nineteenth-century artists—are drinking it.”

“Stop it, Xander.” She burrowed her nose into her scarf as they headed out into the winter night. “I’m, well, I’m…” She stole a nervous look at him. “Obsessing over a boy.”

Xander grinned. “Liv, dearest, Spartan has been my dear companion for these many long months—”

“It’s
not
Spartan.”

His eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

His pace didn’t slow, but his smile faded until he stared at her in apparent confusion. “As in a
real-life
boy? Like … a live one.”

“Flesh and blood.”

He tapped a gloved finger against his lips. “Will wonders never cease.”

Cheeks burning, she punched his shoulder rather than answer. “Careful of the jacket,” he tutted. “It’s raw silk, dearest. The fabric alone cost me a month of tips.”