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JT

S o, there’s this girl in my senior year advanced science class. Her name’s Chanel and she is pretty much everything you’d want in a girl—pretty as a summer’s day, bright hazel eyes and curves in all the right places. She has long, honey blonde hair that she flicks over her shoulder like she knows exactly how good she looks.

Everybody likes her. She’s bubbly, friendly and just a little bit flirty. Especially with me it seems because Chanel has been making eyes at me since I arrived at Evergreen High a month ago, just in time for final semester of senior year.

Chanel has this group of friends, and they go everywhere together—literally. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her without that posse of girls trailing behind. She smiles and waves at me every time I walk past, and her friends all stop and nudge Chanel while sending me these knowing grins.

Thing is, I know exactly what to make of her attention. I’m just not sure what to do with it. See, plenty of girls have looked at me the way Chanel does. I just haven’t really been all that sure about looking back. Maybe I’m a late bloomer.

Or maybe there’s something a little bit wrong with me.

My cousin Trey goes to Evergreen with me. We grew up ruling this neighbourhood together until my family moved away when I was eight. I felt like I was living in purgatory ever since, stuck out in the middle of nowheresville for the last ten years. There’s not a whole lot I’ll miss about Morlee, a tiny, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it backwater, population eleven-and-a-half thousand. Let me assure you, life in inland Australia is not for the faint of heart.

So when my parents announced two months ago we were moving back home, I was ecstatic. I didn’t even care that it meant switching schools in the middle of my senior year. I was finally going home, back to where I belonged. Back with Trey.

Having Trey here made switching to a new high school way easier than it could have been. It also helped that I basically walked into an established friendship group with Trey there to vouch for me.

It’s hard enough moving schools in the middle of senior year. I’m not the best student, academically speaking, but sports? That’s where I shine. Basketball especially even though I don’t quite hit six feet, but I make up for it with speed, balance and droves of confidence.

I turned eighteen a few weeks ago, smack bang in the middle of our move to Evergreen. Pretty sure my parents would have forgotten entirely if my grandparents hadn’t called to ask how we were celebrating. Cue a hastily thrown-together (and painfully formal) family dinner with our nearest relatives, where I was gifted a reflections journal and a Bible study companion.

Afterwards, Trey gave me a pair of Nike LeBron’s in an eye-catching orange and blue and then took me out to a club where we drank way too much Jack Daniel’s and had the time of our lives. I’m gonna leave it to your judgement as to which celebration I preferred.

I’m not used to that kind of freedom, but having Trey around certainly helps. It wouldn’t be so bad if I could actually get my driver’s license like everyone else in our year. If only my dad would let me near the car to start learning.

Not that I need to ask to know what he’d say. I can already hear that patronising tone he loves to use on me: “It’s not about your years, it’s about the effort you put in, Jethro Thomas, and so far, I am seeing no evidence of that.”

My parents are literally the only humans on the planet who call me by my first names. I guess they’re the ones who chose it so they can do what they like, but if anyone else called me Jethro Thomas instead of JT, well let’s just say they would be hearing about it.

Trey and I have one major thing in common which is that we grew up dominating the basketball court together. Trey is the one who got me a tryout with Evergreen’s Division one basketball team—the Dukes—and I made the cut even though I missed the original tryout dates and the first few games of the season.

It's been amazing playing with my cousin again—the actual best thing about being back home. Being on the Division one team seems to make us very cool here at Evergreen. Well, at least in our eyes.

The Dukes are a really great team too with an awesome yet slightly terrifying coach in Coach Vizard. Rumour has it he was once an assistant coach for one of the top-level NBL basketball teams, but nobody seems to have any proof of this. But the standard is way higher than at my old regional K-12 school and since basketball is basically my life, this is the main reason I have loved coming back home to Evergreen.

So, I could probably say that school has been pretty good so far, even though I’m still figuring out my way around, in terms of both the hallways and the hierarchy. It’s not just basketball where the bar is higher—everything here is harder and better and just … more . I am finding it a little hard to keep up. But at least thanks to Trey and basketball, I’ve slotted in pretty smoothly. And honestly? I don’t mind being the shiny new toy.

But then there’s Quinn.

Quinn Dayton to be precise. He’s in my advanced science class and he’s, well, I’m not sure what it is about him. But there’s something about him and that something means I tend to look at him. Like, all the time. He’s kind of cool but also not like popular cool. Just cool in the sense that he doesn’t give a damn what anyone else thinks about him and I really like that. I wish I could be more like that but unfortunately, I’m not. I do care what people think. Way too much.

It's hard to be in high school and not care what people think. I care if people think I’m funny or cool or good at sports and I try so hard to fit in because of that. But Quinn, well, Quinn just strolls into class with this casual coolness about him, not even bothering to look up and see that my eyes are trained on him. Always. He sits in the front row because he is, like, crazy smart and so classy and sophisticated and he doesn’t care that the front row is not the cool place to sit. Except it is cool because he’s sitting there and a part of me always wants to just go slide into the space beside him and talk to him.

I haven’t done that yet because I am completely intimidated by him. I’m not afraid to admit it. He’s not a nerd or anything, just smart in that way I envy because it seems like he doesn’t even try. He has this group of friends, and they are neither cool nor unpopular, just somewhere in the middle and Quinn seems to be completely okay with that. I wish I could be more like that.

But there’s this other thing about Quinn and I wasn’t sure if I should mention it, but he is like, really pretty to look at. Is that even a thing? Like, is it okay to think that other guys are pretty? Maybe I should have said handsome because he is definitely classically good looking—tall, dark and handsome in that fairytale hero kind of way.

He has these bright blue eyes that are so incredible and piercing and all knowing that handsome doesn’t quite seem to cut it. He has this chiselled jawline and these razor-sharp cheekbones that make him look elegant and sophisticated. His hair is dark and effortlessly tussled in that cute boyband kind of way. Bedroom hair I think I heard it once described and that description sure suits Quinn Dayton.

He also sometimes has a bit of a five o’clock shadow on his jawline which I am envious of but it also looks really good on him. Like, really good. My grandma likes to call me her baby-faced assassin and I guess what she means by that is that I only got my first electric razor a couple of years ago and let’s just say it doesn’t always require daily usage. So yeah, I guess I am a little awed by Quinn and his obvious masculinity.

Unlike Morlee Regional High, Evergreen has a strict uniform policy where the boys wear grey pants and a navy blazer over a white shirt with a navy and silver striped tie. I never thought much about uniforms before but Quinn, well, Quinn sure wears that uniform in a way that leaves my mouth dry. Yesterday he came into class with his blazer strung over his arm and his shirt sleeves rolled up and I think I might have had a stroke. My eyes were fixated on places they had no business being fixated, places I had never really noticed on a guy before. But not him, not Quinn.

I notice everything about him.

He's never noticed me.

He walks past me in the cafeteria with this carefree look on his face, usually with a friend or two beside him. Sometimes I’ll try and do something silly or attention seeking just to see if I can get him to look, but it never works. He just slides on by, too cool and sophisticated for the likes of me.

It kills me, his disregard.

For someone who has never had to try for attention, Quinn’s disregard hurts my soul something fierce.

I need him to see me. I need him to look at me and acknowledge me or something, even just a simple damn smile will do. And I don’t even know why. I don’t know why this is so earth shatteringly important to me, to have Quinn Dayton’s attention on me. But it is. I want him to look, and I want him to see me. And maybe a small part of me wants him to like me too. Is that too much to ask? I’m likeable dammit. Everyone likes me. I’m fun and interesting and maybe a little bit nice looking if it’s not too vain of me to say.

Why won’t he look at me?

“Sup, JT. You’re looking a little stressed over here, bro,” Trey says, shoulder checking me and disturbing my perfect line of vision to where Quinn sits in the front row, pulling out his workbook and looking like he doesn’t have a single concern in the whole entire world.

“Not stressed at all,” I assure my cousin as he slings his bag to the floor and takes the seat beside me.

“My legs are killing me from training yesterday,” Trey groans, stretching out his long limbs. Trey inherited our grandpa’s height from our genetic bloodline, and I do try to be happy for him—even though I would basically trade my soul for those extra few inches. “Coach Vizard must hate us.”

“Yeah, that was a killer sesh,” I agree, latching onto something other than my obsession with Quinn Dayton’s grey school pants. “But what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right?”

Trey laughs, the sound coming out like a bark, causing heads to turn our way. Well, all heads other than the attractive dark brunette in the front row.

“You sound like a fitness commercial, cuz.”

“Nah, just coach’s favourite,” I grin back.

“Why do all our coaches love you so much?” Trey grumbles. “It was the same when we were baby juniors too.”

“Um, maybe because I actually listen and put in the effort.”

“I listen,” Trey protests, poking me sharply in the side. Of course, that kind of challenge cannot be ignored so I poke him back and next minute Mr Peters is walking in and berating us both as we descend into an all-out tussle in the back row. I catch Chanel’s eye, and she sends an amused twinkle my way while my eyes ping back to where Quinn is sitting, only to be disappointed that he is still not looking. Unlike everyone else in class.

Mr Peters looks down his unforgiving nose at us. “If the Mr Sterlings plural are quite done with their antics we can start the class.”

I squirm in my seat and whack Trey one last time after he tries to subtly poke me in the thigh and try my hardest to concentrate. Like Quinn is doing in row number one. The model student who also happens to look like a pinup.

Mr Peters walks to the front of the classroom and brings up a slide on the big screen. I squint to read the tiny font, acutely aware this would be achieved far more simply from the front row. I read:

“Class Project – Investigating Renewable Energy Sources and their Efficiency”.

Well, I know I can’t answer for anyone else in the classroom but that slide certainly sounds ominous.

“Now,” Mr Peters continues, glancing over his spectacles at us, “As I have been threatening all year, we are about to embark on our big class project that will last for the remainder of the term. This is worth thirty percent of your grade so please do take heed of what I am about to say next. Students will be assigned to work in a group of two to investigate different types of renewable energy sources such as solar, wind, hydro and biomass, and compare their efficiency, cost and environmental impact. This project combines elements of physics, chemistry and environmental science, making it interdisciplinary and about as exciting as a high school science project can possibly be.”

I try not to groan even though inwardly I am starting to freak out. Science is so not my forte and I have missed a whole lot of the areas the class already studied last semester. I’m already on the back foot from switching schools and that’s before we even start. The good news is that this is a group project, and I send up a prayer that I will be matched with a person far smarter than me. Though I am aware that probably encompasses most everyone in class.

“Your project partner has been assigned by me,” Mr Peters continues, “and a significant amount of time I don’t have, and energy I have even less of, has been wasted in ensuring the pairings are fair and equitable. As such, any student who feels the need to air their grievances about their project partnership is welcome to do so to the school counsellor or to your friends during your next break. In other words, do not come crying to me. My decision is final.”

Ah, Mr Peters. Nothing like a bit of old-fashioned dictatorship to really set the class’s mind at ease. I tune out as Mr Peters starts reciting names from his list and it wavers that way until I hear a name that has me perking up in my seat.

“Quinn Dayton,” Mr Peters begins, my ears suddenly overly invested, “will be paired with Jethro Thomas Sterling.”

Now, correct me if I’m wrong but that certainly sounded a lot like my name just as the ground starts to feel a little wobbly underfoot. Are we having an earthquake? I’m not sure what’s going on, but I realise I haven’t even corrected Mr Peters double naming me as my eyes drift upwards and find two answered prayers all tied up in one extremely gorgeous package. Because Quinn Dayton’s expectant, expressively intelligent eyes are suddenly looking my way.

Yes, Quinn Dayton is finally looking at me and suddenly there is no air in the room. First earthquakes and now oxygen deprivation? What a day to be alive.

I realise it must have taken some time for me to process these unexpected revelations as both Trey and Quinn are looking at me with an air of expectation. But really, Quinn is just so very distracting, and I was not at all expecting to feel so very powerless under the weight of his attention. Almost like it has a biomass all of its own. Ooh, look at me using science in what is quite probably the completely wrong way.

Millie Bourke is already waiting for me to vacate my seat, so I pull myself to a set of very shaky feet, thrust my gear into my backpack and try very hard to remind myself I am basically an elite athlete as I step towards the front row and the boy watching my every move.

Quinn Dayton is even more breathtaking up close and personal, and I suck in a shaky breath of air as I come to a standstill beside him. He’s watching me with those amused blue eyes. From this close I can see he has really long eyelashes and they are as dark and thick as his hair, and I really don’t think I should be noticing them or fixating on them quite as much as I am.

“Hi,” he says, his voice a nice, deep luxurious sound that reminds me of melted chocolate. “You must be JT.”

“Yes, JT,” I breathe, relieved that he must have been listening to the multitude of times I have corrected Mr Peters and his stubborn persistence in double naming me.

“Quinn,” he says, holding out a smooth hand. I stare at it for a second too long before engaging my mind and clasping his hand in a firm shake. His hand is warm and large, and it feels nice in mine but I quickly drop the contact and wonder why I am so weird.

I drop my backpack to the floor and slide onto the seat beside Quinn, just like I’d imagined doing in all those daydreams. Except in my daydreams I was a hell of a lot more suave than this.

“So, I wonder what you did wrong to have Mr Peters pair you up with me,” I say, trying a little too hard for the self-deprecating joke.

“Or what you did right to get paired with me,” Quinn returns, that soft, melty smile on his face. His lips are nice too, kind of pink and pillowy and I wonder what they would be like to touch. Okay, what the heck am I thinking now?

I force out a laugh and I know it sounds weird, but Quinn just indulges me as he picks up the sheet Mr Peters has dropped on our desk, his name next to mine on the top. Making us look all official.

“So, JT, how would you like to do this?” he asks, blue eyes looking up at me from under thick lashes.

Just me, sitting here beside the boy I’ve been secretly staring at all term, silently trying not to hyperventilate.