Chapter Five:Not a Date
1227 Words
By the end of the week, Toby Hayes had become a problem.
Not the kind of problem that required the dean's office.
Not yet.
Just the kind that appeared beside me in the library without warning, stole fries from my plate, sent me ridiculous messages about our rivalry, and somehow managed to make me laugh when I was trying very hard not to.
Our study sessions had become a regular thing.
Monday.
Wednesday.
Friday.
Sometimes Sunday.
I had stopped asking why he needed so much help.
He had stopped pretending he didn't.
And somehow, we were getting along.
That was probably the most alarming part.
Friday afternoon, I was packing my books when Toby dropped into the chair opposite me.
“I'm starving.”
I didn't look up.
“Congratulations.”
“Come eat.”
“No.”
“You haven't even asked where.”
“I don't need to.”
He leaned closer.
“There's a burger place off campus.”
“No.”
“Pizza?”
“No.”
“Chinese?”
I looked up.
“Why are you listing food like you're trying to win custody of me?”
He laughed.
“Because you're difficult.”
“You're the one who came over here.”
“Exactly.”
I zipped my bag.
“I'm going back to my dorm.”
He stood.
“I'll walk you.”
“I know how to walk.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
“Because I'm going that way.”
I stared at him.
“You're lying.”
“Probably.”
I shook my head and walked toward the exit.
He followed.
The campus was unusually quiet that evening.
Most students were heading toward the stadium for the weekend baseball game.
I wasn't.
Toby had a game too, but he'd told his coach he wasn't playing that night because his shoulder was sore.
“You're missing your own game?” I asked as we crossed the quad.
“I'm not missing it.”
“You're not playing.”
“There's a difference.”
“Is there?”
“Yes.”
He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.
“I need to rest.”
I nodded.
“That actually sounds responsible.”
“Thank you.”
“Don't get used to compliments.”
He smiled.
We reached the small restaurant just outside campus.
It was warm inside, with soft music playing and students scattered around the tables.
Toby held the door open.
I walked through.
“Thank you.”
He smiled.
“You're welcome.”
We ordered food and found a table near the window.
For a few minutes, we talked about nothing important.
Classes.
Professors.
The terrible coffee at the student center.
Then Toby asked,
“Why did you choose Westbrook?”
I looked at him.
“That's random.”
“Answer.”
I shrugged.
“I wanted somewhere different.”
“Different from what?”
“Home.”
He nodded.
“Do you miss it?”
“Sometimes.”
“Sometimes?”
“Okay. A lot.”
He smiled.
“I get that.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Why Westbrook?”
“My father.”
I frowned.
“You chose it because of him?”
“Kind of.”
He looked out the window.
“He wanted me here. Good baseball program. Good opportunities.”
“And what did you want?”
He was quiet for a moment.
“I don't know.”
I studied his face.
“You don't know?”
“Not anymore.”
That answer surprised me.
Before I could ask more, our food arrived.
We ate in silence for a while.
Then Toby looked at me.
“You know what?”
“What?”
“This is nice.”
I smiled.
“It is.”
He pointed at me.
“Don't say it like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you agree with me.”
I laughed.
“You're ridiculous.”
“Thank you.”
When we left the restaurant, it had started raining.
I stopped beneath the awning.
“Great.”
Toby looked at the sky.
“You don't have an umbrella?”
“No.”
“Neither do I.”
“Then we're stuck.”
He smiled.
“Could be worse.”
“How?”
“You could be stuck with someone you hate.”
I looked at him.
“I don't hate you.”
His smile faded slightly.
“You don't?”
“No.”
He looked at me for a moment.
“Good.”
Something about the way he said it made my stomach flutter.
I looked away.
“We should run.”
“Probably.”
We waited for the rain to slow.
It didn't.
Toby took off his jacket.
“Here.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“Take it.”
“You'll get wet.”
“I'll survive.”
I took it reluctantly.
“Thanks.”
He smiled.
We ran.
By the time we reached my dorm, we were both soaked anyway.
I handed his jacket back.
“Your jacket didn't help.”
He laughed.
“Still worth it.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
He smiled.
“Goodnight, Zikora.”
“Goodnight.”
He started walking away.
Then turned.
“Oh, and before I forget.”
“What?”
He pointed at me.
“Tomorrow. Ten a.m. Library.”
I groaned.
“You scheduled another study session?”
“Yes.”
“On a Saturday?”
“You want me to pass this class, don't you?”
I sighed.
“Yes.”
“Then I'll see you at ten.”
He walked away.
I watched him disappear around the corner.
Then I looked down at the jacket still in my hands.
I hadn't even realized I was holding it.
I smiled.
Then immediately stopped.
No.
Absolutely not.
This was nothing.
Just two rivals becoming friends.
That was all.
At least, that's what I told myself.
The next morning, I arrived at the library at 9:55.
Toby was already there.
I stopped.
“You're early.”
He looked up.
“You're surprised?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you're usually late.”
He placed a hand over his chest.
“I'm hurt.”
“You'll recover.”
He laughed.
I sat down.
For the next two hours, we worked.
There was no flirting.
No challenges.
No arguing.
Just studying.
And somehow, that was more intimate than any of our usual conversations.
When we finished, Toby closed his notebook.
“I think I actually understand this now.”
I smiled.
“Good.”
“Thanks.”
“You're welcome.”
He looked at me.
“Seriously.”
“I know.”
He hesitated.
Then said quietly,
“I'm glad you're my partner.”
I blinked.
“Me too.”
Neither of us spoke.
Then he smiled.
“So... not a date?”
I laughed.
“Definitely not.”
“Good.”
“Why?”
“Because I'd have to impress you.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“You'd fail.”
He grinned.
“Challenge accepted.”
I shook my head.
And as we left the library together, I realized something.
I didn't mind walking beside him anymore.
In fact...
I was beginning to like it.
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