𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚝𝚑

𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚞𝚙 𝚢𝚘𝚞,

𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎,

𝚂𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚊 𝚏𝚕𝚊𝚖𝚎,

𝙱𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚖𝚎.

𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚕.

𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗'𝚝 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚗

𝙹𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚍𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗.

𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚕.

𝙸𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜

𝚃𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚞𝚗𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚢 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍.

Lennon insisted that Eddie read the book but he refused. She resorted to reading it aloud and hoped that would suffice because the last thing she was going to do for this man was do all the work for him.

Eddie was acting like he was reading along but he wasn't paying any attention to what she was saying because he was too busy reading all her notes and rereading all the quotes she had highlighted with a careful hand.

They got a few chapters in before Lennon started asking questions and when Eddie had nothing to come up with, she grumbled under her breath and closed the book in front of her.

"I can go home and we can go back to pretending to be strangers," she groaned, knowing her words were just made up of falsities to motivate Eddie to focus on the task at hand. She would hate her departure. Even though she couldn't commit herself to him, she craved being in his presence.

"We both know that's not gonna happen," Eddie narrowed his eyes at her and smirked. He saw right through her. If she wanted to throw threats like that at him then he could slap her across the face with it.

"I just need you to pay attention," she spoke softly, closing her eyes and restraining her's from going out to the tattoo on his left breast or the black and red guitar pick hanging around his neck as they contrasted the pale color of his skin. "That or put a shirt on because it's wildly inappropriate to show up to a tutoring session half-dressed," she kept her eyes on the cover of the closed book, feeling more and more guilty about wanting what she wanted.

And even if the obstacles standing in her way weren't an issue like her brother, her reputation, or her fresh start, she couldn't take advantage of someone coming off their high. She had a hard time believing everything coming out of his mouth because she couldn't trust that it came from the heart and not his drugged brain.

She already felt dirty kissing two men with only a day in between, she didn't need to feel like a perpetrator to conscious consent. She didn't care if his eyes were returning to normal or if the effects of the pills wore off, she couldn't do it.

"Oh, shit..." Eddie shot up and moved to pick up a discarded t-shirt from the floor at the foot of his bed. "Sorry," he muttered apologetically.

She hummed humorously, forcing her eyes to stay on the cover of the book. "What? No snarky comment?" she chuckled, briefly turning towards him and watching as he slid his arms through the fabric first before pulling his head through and covering his exposed skin. She then looked away before getting caught.

Eddie looked up innocently, ruffling his dried hair and shaking his bangs loose from his forehead.

"No sly remark about making me nervous or... getting me distracted?" she mocked playfully, but to Eddie, he didn't seem up to par.

Eddie's eyes shifted to his hands in his lap before he cleared his throat again. "Not when you're in my house... in my room... all alone... with no escape route and no car... It's called, 'my lame attempt at hospitality' but the last time I tried that we were in the girl's bathroom and I just sounded like a rapist so... Was tryin' not to mention it," he quirked up the side of his nose and adverted his gaze nervously.

Lennon sighed and leaned her head into her propped-up hand on the edge of his bed. "I didn't know you then..."

Eddie looked over again with that innocence in his eyes that made Lennon feel even more like a jerk.

The power struggle continued.

Would they pretend like they didn't kiss and continue being friendly or would they flirt and flatter each other like the hormonal teenagers they were?

The mood was swift and constantly changing. Perhaps that was the only downside to their comforting company. It was so easy to be authentic and breeze past any subdued and contradicting emotions in each other's presence. There wasn't a single awkward moment and yet the mood swings were hard to follow.

He hummed warmly. It was reassuring to know he didn't freak her out anymore, that she wasn't afraid of him...

She felt the feeling of guilt lessen when his eyes creased with gentle humor.

"What's different this time?" he asked softly, turning towards her and fiddling with the skin of his knuckle since his rings were sitting on the counter of the bathroom.

"Hm?" she pondered, knitting her brows together curiously.

"You said you didn't know me. What's changed?" Eddie clarified.

Lennon scoffed and avoided his eyes. He knew what changed; or rather, what got the best of her. She wondered if this was his way of making up for what he could've said when she asked him to put a shirt on. And if it was, it was almost worse and more tempting.

"You're quite persuasive," she smiled to herself, staring down at the book beneath her hands.

"Am I?" he called out sarcastically. When Lennon looked up at him, he had his nose scrunched up and his eyes were dark and mischievous. She tried not to smile at the image but he was affectionate and playful and it was hard not to grow fond of that. "I've persuaded you?"

"Maybe," she charmed him. "You're more convincing than the shallow nobody's at school," she fiddled with the pen in her hand to distract herself from getting wrapped up in the color of his eyes.

"Wait till I tell them," Eddie mocked.

"Shut up," she smiled, unable to keep herself tame. She soon found her eyes in his. "Don't, but please do," she joked, laying her hand flat on the book and running the ink across it.

"Why do you pretend?" Eddie wondered in a stuttering giggle, setting the book down beside his leg and watching as she drew on her flesh.

"Pretend what?"

"Pretend to be so..." Eddie drew out incredulously. "Superficial," he cringed.

Lennon hummed amusingly and looked up from her mindless drawings.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she wondered inquisitively.

She didn't know what he was insinuating, but whatever he was thinking was enough to make her curious.

"Oh, don't be coy," he threw his legs over the side of the bed and got to his feet to pace the length of the room. "You call these people your friends and shallow nobody's in the same breath," he threw his head back dramatically as he stared up at the ceiling. "If you liked acting, you would've joined the drama club. But instead, you hang with the jocks," he peered down at her still sitting on the floor with her arms slung over the side of his mattress.

"Because I like running," she giggled. "And you're one to talk," she looked up from her sketch with judgmental eyes. "Look at you. Wearing band tees and ripped jeans like you're the coolest pebble in the pond. But instead, you hang with dorks and dweebs all day," she stated matter-of-factly.

"Shit," he placed his hand over his shoulder and wrapped his fingers around an imaginary police walkie. "We've been found out boys," Eddie muffled the sound of his voice through his teeth and with the help of another hand. "Ptsh. I repeat. Ptsh. Our cover has been blown. Abort mission. Ptsh. I repeat. Ptsh. Abort mission. Over."

Lennon began to laugh as she pulled herself away from the bed, pressing her back to the bed frame and looking up at Eddie as he made fun of Lennon's ridicule.

"You're ridiculous," she chuckled, exposing her gleaming eyes as he came out of character.

"But I don't try to hide it," Eddie shrugged, moving to sit beside her on the ground now.

Her eyes followed him as he crossed his legs and put only an inch of space between their slumped shoulders.

"Have you ever been on Ritalin?" Eddie asked abruptly.

Lennon's eyes widened and her brows rose with surprise. "Excuse me?" she giggled nervously.

"Obviously not," Eddie rolled his eyes and ignored her incredulous gaze. "Well, when I was younger, the bastards in white coats tried putting my ADHD in check with these funny little white pills, right? Well, they worked but they worked a little too well," he explained thoughtfully.

"My mom caught me sitting in the backyard, unmoving, for a whole hour, completely dazed by a daisy. I was just..." Eddie paused and slumped over, dropping his jaw and making his eyes seem dull and expressionless. "Zombie. Complete zombie. I did not care about anything. Over a daisy. That's you at school," he pointed at her and smiled knowingly.

Lennon watched how animated and expressive he was when telling a story. And even though he was accusing her of being insincere, she couldn't help but be warned by the memory he shared.

"A zombie?" she scoffed, picking at a thread that came undone at her sleeve.

"Yeah. Like your personality is dead the minute the first bell rings," he shot back enthusiastically. "You know, when you're not being an upright prick of a cheerleader, you're actually a nice person."

"You really do know how to charm them, don't you?" she smirked, growing suspicious of his affections and leaning into the piece of her that wanted to be equally fond.

"Just you," he hummed, tilting his head back and stopping her in her tracks.

She was mesmerized by him. His eyes were catastrophically beautiful. From the round shape to their brown warmth, she was obsessed. She wanted to stare at them until she could recall every sliver and every crater she found inside them. She wanted to stare at them until that look in his eye that never failed to light a fire deep within her belly faltered.

"Mmhmm," she shook her head slowly. "Won't. Work. Munson," she smirked, turning her head away but her eyes lingered a little longer on his curling lips before she faced her lap.

She took a deep, subtle breath and reached into her bag for the can of Dr. Pepper and a notebook.

"It's so easy..." he hummed charmingly, turning his waist and propping his knee up against the side of his bed.

"Uh," she laughed offendedly. "You did not just call me easy," she opened the can of soda and turned to him in disbelief.

"Only to those who pay attention..." he drew out darkly, a soft smile hanging off his lips like a vintage painting begging to be worshipped.

"Mmhm," she hummed, showing how unamused she was with his flattery. "Now if only you could use that mindset on all the finals you're gonna take next week..."

Eddie rolled his eyes and ran the tip of his tongue over the edge of his top lip in thought. "We have an entire week!" he complained.

She was blatantly ignoring his playful tone. She was well aware of them, she just refused to give him any pleasure from the reciprocity.

"And it will be pushed off until the last minute if you don't do this now."

She turned to a blank page and started to sketch out the outline for Eddie to follow for his paper.

She knew he still had drugs in his system that were bound to mess with his head, but she wasn't worried about the mistakes he might make with her. She was more worried about what her lucid mind would do if she submitted to the desire growing in her belly.

She had to distract herself. No, she had to redirect herself.

She was there to help him with an English paper, not to flirt. She had to keep that in mind or else she might lose herself to the man sitting beside her. The feeling of relief and assurance when kissing him was almost as strong as he smelled of cedar.

"You've got demons in there, Clever One," he teased, leaning forward and bending his head towards the ground in an attempt to grab her attention.

Her eyes briefly flickered between his mischievous eyes to the paper with interest. He was looking at her like he could peer inside and lay it all out around them. It was like he was reading her or watching her unfold like the climax of a film.

His smile was contagious but that was all she was able to give him. She knew if she stared long enough that she would be swept away again and she didn't know how much longer she could keep stopping him from kissing her. She liked it but wasn't supposed to. She knew she wanted more and she knew why she couldn't have it too.

"Ah yes," she sighed "demons." She smiled tenderly as she carefully organized the plot of the book on paper, managing to refuse his eye and get work done at the same time. "A Satanic worshipper would know all about those, wouldn't he?" she tilted her head and shot him dead with a playful glint to her flustered green gaze.

"There's a war going on in there," he drew out with a smirk. "I can see it..." he observed the blue-green ring around her pupil until he landed back into her pupils, seeing how she fought her own desires and bashed the brains of her innermost wants.

"You can see it?" she doubted him quickly.

"I can see it," his pitch went up and so did the corners of his mouth. "Right there," he pointed at her eyes. "You're not immune to cajolery," he leered sarcastically, making fun of her for being so stubborn. "You can pretend you aren't flattered but I can see the war you're fightin' in there," he narrowed his eyes and bit his lip in concentration.

He watched as her pupils grew in size only to dilate again, pulsating in size like the view from inside a pair of binoculars, moving in and out of focus as the dial was altered. She was beautiful. She was absolutely stunning and yet that was no secret. Everybody knew it. Except he knew they didn't find her beautiful in ways he did.

He didn't care that her face was smooth and even-toned or that her dark hair contrasted well with her green eyes and crimson lips and cheeks. He didn't care that she was fit, or that she had a higher social status than him, or that her hair looked healthy and long, or that her voice was velvety and charming, or that her grades were good.

He cared about the dusting of freckles that sprayed across her nose and peppered her chin. He cared about the little scrunch of her nose whenever she found something funny or the subtle lift of her brows when she laughed. He cared about her love for films and how involved she was in conversations. He cared about her taste in music and her love for caffeinated drinks. He cared about the scars on her knuckles and the tears at her cuticles. He cared about her hidden sentiment and humor. He cared about her trembling hands and anxious mind.

He found her beautiful in so many more ways.

"That's a big word for someone who's failed their senior year," she leered suspiciously, ignoring his charm and trying to divert the attention away from her and her adorations. "Cajolery."

"Won't. Work. Seagrave," he mimicked her earlier mockery.

She hummed humorously and turned back to the paper to detail the importance of the conclusion. "It will," she smiled confidently before ripping the paper out of her notebook and handing it to Eddie.

His eyes fell from her side profile as she extended her hand.

"Follow this and keep the book," she spoke softly. "You can find what's important or else I wouldn't have highlighted it," she explained nervously.

She didn't like him reading her annotations but she was willing to forgive and forget. As long as she kept herself in check, she would be fine and there would be nothing to regret later. She didn't do anything wrong. Not entirely. Not enough to eat at her for the rest of the day. A little scraped knee wouldn't kill her. A kiss certainly wouldn't.

"You can keep kissing me if you wanna stop staring," he interpreted abruptly.

"Excuse me?" she blinked rapidly as she reeled back and found her eyes implanted in his annoyingly victorious ones.

"My eyes are up here," Eddie pointed at his studious pupils before dropping his hand onto his propped-up knee.

Lennon's lips fell agape with surprise, not realizing that she had been talking to his lips the entire time.

"No," she averted her gaze and pulled her jacket closer to her torso despite the warmth of his room. "No. I do not want to keep kissing you. Thanks for the offer though," she offered him a sarcastic line to cling to as she got to her feet and took a sip of soda to busy the parts of her body that wanted him.

"I see the angels are winning their war," Eddie followed her lead and dropped her writing onto his bed.

Lennon furrowed her brows and continued to down her drink, looking down the tin and finding him at the end.

"I have angels now?" she remarked sarcastically.

"Stubborn ones," he promised, nodding his head and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Well," she finished half her drink and slung her bag over her shoulder. "My angels would like to leave you to your studies seeing as you no longer have any interest in my help," she offered him a kind smile before moving for the other copy of Wuthering Heights she read from.

"Stay," he replied raspily.

She held the cloth-bound novel in her hands and rubbed her thumbs over the cover to keep her grounded.

"You know I can't," she reminded him, deciding to be frank with him rather than beat around the bush. "Besides, I have to practice for the game and I have studying of my own to do, Eddie," she explained. "And I don't have time to be playing games..."

"I'm not playing any games," he tried defending.

"You play a lot of games," she argued softly. "And..." she straightened her posture, feeling the wave of realization hit her but feeling out of sorts when she resurfaced so abruptly. "And you say my angels are winning this little war-" she laughed, "but I don't think I would've come at all if they were..." she warned him sympathetically.

Eddie's eyes grew lustrous as she gave him a portion of what he wanted.

He wanted the truth.

He wanted her to reveal all the things she was trying to hide. He didn't want to defile her, people deserved privacy and secrets. But she was lying. And he wanted those lies to be uncovered because he knew better than to believe what everyone at school believed.

She wasn't as innocent as people thought she was. She had quirks and kinks that she tried too hard to straighten and tame. And maybe nobody noticed them because they never dealt with the desperate attempt at hiding them before. But Eddie had. He tried to hide parts of him he hated, that he feared, that he was ashamed of beholding... Lennon was the same. He knew what to look for.

He wanted to see the real her. He wanted her to admit it; to claim it.

She wasn't the perfect, socially accepted, effortlessly beautiful, beloved academic scholar that she wanted people to think she was.

So when she stooped to his level of weird and imaginative, he was glad she had shown a sliver of her authentic self to him.

She didn't brush off his animated analogy or think he was strange for mentioning something so intuitive in a fictional manner. She was present and considerate; she was agreeing with him.

"But you're glad you did," Eddie smirked darkly, towering over her and glaring at her passionately from under his wildly curly hair. "Come... that is..." Eddie cringed when he realized how dirty that sounded. "You're glad you came over," he corrected himself.