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I raise a suspicious eyebrow, letting the silence hang for a second. “Maybe she knew you’d try something like that?”
“Please,” he scoffs, waving the crystal dismissively. “Rebecca didn’t know anything. Except apparently how to conjugateSpanish verbs in multiple positions—” He stops, cheeks coloring. “I mean, tenses. Multiple tenses.”
I text Camdyn again because she needs to know this.
Fork Guy’s still not over Rebecca
The Spanish tutor??
Apparently she’s very good at conjugation
OMG stop??
“You know what your problem is?” Fork Guy continues, now squinting at Emerald’s abandoned tea leaves and holding them up to the light, “You’re overthinking everything with Bush Girl. Meanwhile, I’m out here living my best life, spreading love and plastic utensils across campus.”
“You literally have an eye patch made of forks.”
“It’s called fashion, Baseball Boy. Look it up. Also, these tea leaves definitely say Emerald’s into me. Unless that’s a coffee stain.” He squints, turning the cup sideways, tongue poking out in concentration. “Hard to tell with one eye.”
“You’re strange,” I tell him, flipping my phone over in my lap.
He shrugs, loose and content. “You know, sometimes love is like eating ramen upside down—messy, probably ill-advised, but hey, at least you’ll have a good story for Psych class. Just maybe avoid fire escapes and security cameras.”
He’s speaking facts.
Professor Chen traps his knuckles against the whiteboard. “All right, everyone. If I can have your attention—yes, even you, Mr. Fork Incident—let’s talk about your next assignment.”
Groans ripple through the room like a bad group text. I prop my chin on my hand, waiting for the catch.
“This will be a partner project,” Professor Chen continues, “analyzing a real-world example of cognitive bias in everyday life. You’ll submit a written report and give a short presentation together. I expect creativity. And, you know, effort.”
Fork Guy’s hand shoots into the air with the speed of someone trying to win a radio contest. “Can we pick our partners?”
Professor Chen sighs. “Yes. But I reserve the right to veto any ‘dynamic duos’ if things get too... lively.”
Fork Guy spins in his seat, locking his one good eye on me like I’m the last slice of pizza at a frat party. “Dibs on Baseball Boy!” he declares, loud enough that half the class turns to stare.
I blink. “Can I have a different partner?”
He’s already grinning, clearly delighted with himself. “Come on, man. We’re basically a team already. You’ve got the brains, I’ve got the... forks? Plus, I have a killer idea about doing our project on why people keep eating instant noodles despite the warning labels.”
Professor Chen’s lips twitch like he’s fighting a smile. “As long as you both agree, that’s fine. Just—please—no live demonstrations. And no fire escapes.”
Fork Guy elbows me, his eye patch glinting. “Bro. We’re gonna crush this. I call dibs on presentation slides.”
I shake my head, but I can’t help grinning. “Only if you promise not to bring props.”
He winks. “No promises.”
After class,Fork Guy’s still plotting his crystal-based courtship when Inez appears out of nowhere, her footsteps muffled by the grubby blue carpet. She’s wearing what I can only describe as a cardigan that looks like a thrift store exploded on it, paired with those infamous orange leggings. Her thick black glasses are slightly askew, and she’s clutching her journalist notebook like a shield.
“Jaxon,” she starts, voice tentative as she adjusts her glasses in that nervous way. “Can we talk?”
Fork Guy, bless him, immediately picks up on the tension. “Oh look, Emerald’s doing a tarot reading by the water fountain! This is my moment.” He practically sprints away, his bedazzled eye patch catching the fluorescent lights like a disco ball.
“Sure,” I sigh, already tired. “Look, Inez?—”
“You just left the other day,” she cuts in, twirling a strand of black hair around her finger, eyes darting everywhere but my face. “What happened?”