Page 14 of Scars of Anatomy

Bad Liar

I walk down the empty hallway of the science building, wandering aimlessly to pass the time I have between classes.

Passing a classroom, I faintly hear an all-too-familiar voice.

I stop in my tracks and take a step back to look through the small rectangular window in the door. Sure enough, Olivia is standing at the front of the classroom, talking to the students while writing on the whiteboard.

I step closer, watching her teach a small group of kids sitting at lab benches. Microscopes line the tabletops, and the students mess around with them, observing different slides.

I hear Olivia’s voice drift off and swing my gaze back to her, watching her cap the dry-erase marker. She turns around and her eyes meet mine through the window. I grin as her eyes widen in surprise.

What are you doing here? she mouths discreetly.

I point to her class. Who do you need me to rough up? I mouth, jokingly pounding my fist into my opposite palm. I remember her telling me about the immature freshmen who gave her trouble last week.

Her eyes sparkle with humor as she fights to keep a stern face. Eventually, she cracks a smile, shaking her head before returning to teaching her lab.

I take a seat on the bench adjacent to her door and wait for her to finish up.

Twenty minutes later the door to the classroom opens and the students file out. I walk into the classroom when there are only a couple of stragglers left.

Olivia is erasing the whiteboard as I walk up behind her and hop onto the bench at the front of the room. I take a seat and let my feet dangle a few inches above the floor. She glances at me over her shoulder, flashing me a smile.

When she’s finished, she turns around and stands next to me, her binder and papers scattered to my right.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, collecting her papers and neatly placing them into her binder.

I shrug. “I was walking down the hallway and thought I heard your beautiful voice. Stopped in my tracks and had to turn around to make sure it was you, and that no freshman was giving you shit.”

She lets out a soft laugh, looking down and shaking her head. I can tell she’s embarrassed by my compliment.

“So . . .” I drawl, cracking my knuckles. “Anybody’s ass you need me to kick?” I joke.

“No,” she says emphatically, shooting me a look before shrugging off her lab coat and neatly folding it. “I don’t need you to kick anyone’s butt.”

“Butt? What’s the matter, Finch? Can’t say ass ?” I tease.

She rolls her eyes, shoving her things neatly into her backpack.

“C’mon, say it,” I urge playfully.

This time she laughs. “No.”

“Aww, come on,” I beg. “You can even use it in a different sentence, like, Bronx has a really nice a—ow!”

She playfully smacks me on the thigh, her jaw dropping and eyes wide with shock as well as amusement.

“All right, all right,” I say, feigning hurt, rubbing my thigh where she hit me. “I won’t make you say it now, but maybe that can be a part of our next bet.”

“You’d have to get a perfect score in order for that to happen,” she claims, slinging on her backpack and walking to the door.

“It’s not that hard to say, Finch! It’s a fact,” I call after her, hopping off the counter and lightly jogging to catch up to her.

I get a few steps in front of her, then stop. I twist at the waist to look back at my ass, slightly lifting the hem of my shirt to fully show off my assets, my black boxers peeking out from the top of my jeans.

“See,” I say, smirking.

“Oh my god.” She laughs and playfully shoves me out of her way.

“You’re just jealous,” I tease smugly, falling into step with her.

She shakes her head. “You’re in a good mood. Still partying on from Friday night?”

“Something like that.” I chuckle. “Sorry if I woke you by the way,” I apologize sincerely, cringing while awkwardly scratching at the back of my neck.

Friday night after I left her house and went to Goldman’s, I may have had more to drink than I intended and ended up drunk texting her.

I sent her multiple selfies and pictures of the arm that she drew on, letting her know that her diagram was a huge hit at the party.

Honestly, I was a little sad when I took a shower the next morning and all her writing washed off.

I may have also texted her that night that I really, really can’t wait to see her in my jersey . . .

Jesus.

Someone needs to take my phone away from me when I’m drunk.

She laughs, her cheeks heating up. “It’s okay. I was up reading, so you didn’t wake me.”

I let out a sigh of relief. I would have felt awful for not only annoying her with my drunk texts but waking her up as well.

“Are we still down for a study session after English?” I ask hopefully.

“Sure thing. Let me just text Delilah and let her know I’m going to be skipping MCAT prep, then,” she says, taking her phone out of her back pocket.

“You don’t have to. If you have other plans, don’t let me stop you,” I say, guilty she’s rearranging her plans just to tutor me.

She waves her hand dismissively. “It’s no big deal. I wasn’t really up for it anyway.”

“You sure?” I ask, my heart warming at the thought of her giving up her original plans just to spend time with me instead.

“Yeah, Delilah’s always lecturing me anyway about how she thinks I don’t even need to be there or take the test again,” she says with a slight eye roll.

“Let me guess, you got a really good score the first time?”

Olivia shrugs. “I did well enough,” she says, and I know that’s her humble way of saying she fucking aced it.

“All right, smarty pants.” I snicker.

“Whatever,” she mumbles, bumping me with her shoulder. “I’ll see you later in English?” She slowly veers off, probably going to her next class.

“I’ll see you there,” I confirm.

When Professor Hobb dismisses us for the day, Olivia and I pack up and head to the library.

The weather is actually really nice today, the heat mild as fall rolls in. Olivia and I are strolling across campus chatting about our day when we come up on one of the practice fields, where pop music is blasting from some speakers.

I look up to see the dance team practicing one of their routines, and I mentally groan when a pair of piercing green eyes meet mine.

Adrianna smirks wickedly, calling for someone to cut the music and telling the girls to take five. Her eyes are set on me, and I can tell from her stride that she’s determined on us crossing paths.

I try to quicken my pace to dodge her without tipping off Olivia, but Adrianna is persistent and manages to step right into our path.

“Bronx,” she says in a sickeningly sweet tone, her smile razor sharp as she stops us. “What have you been up to?” she asks, her eyes scanning me from head to toe while she places her hand on my bicep, squeezing possessively.

I chuckle uncomfortably. “Nothing much.”

“Hey, why don’t we have dinner tonight,” she suggests, her hand running down my arm and grabbing my hand. “I mean, I have to shower first.” She laughs flirtatiously, gesturing to her body, which is covered by a black sports bra and tiny gym shorts.

I clear my throat, awkwardly pulling my hand out of hers. “Sorry, Ads. I’m busy.”

Adrianna’s eyes darken and flick over to a very uncomfortable Olivia. “And who is this?” she asks me, folding her arms over her chest, clearly displeased.

“This is my tutor, Olivia,” I say, not even willing to introduce them.

“Tutor?” Adrianna practically laughs. “What do you need a tutor for?”

“She’s just helping me with anatomy,” I say, dying to end this conversation.

Adrianna’s eyes narrow and turn a wicked shade of green. “But you know all about anatomy, don’t you, Bronx?” she says, her voice packed with meaning.

“Adrianna,” I practically hiss in warning.

“Olivia?” someone calls from behind us.

I turn to see Rat Boy heading our way, Delilah behind him with slight panic in her eyes.

As if this situation couldn’t get any worse if it tried.

“I thought Delilah said you were skipping MCAT prep because you weren’t feeling well and your mom was going to take you home instead,” Rat Boy says, standing next to Olivia.

Delilah stands behind him, her eyes wide behind her thick glasses as she slightly shakes her head, desperately trying to silently communicate with Olivia without him knowing.

Olivia stares helplessly at her friend, trying to read her mind.

“Yeah, I’m actually going to go meet up with her now. My head has been killing me, so I think it’s best if I just go home with her and get some rest,” she says, following up her statement with an awkward, uneasy laugh.

She’s such a bad liar.

Why can’t she just tell him the truth, that she’s spending time with me? The obsessive little twerp is just going to have to accept the fact that he doesn’t own her and she can hang out with whomever she pleases.

I look at Delilah, and she looks like she mentally wants to hit her face with her palm.

“Really?” Rat Boy says, raising a dark brow in challenge. “Because we just ran into her, and she said she was in a rush because she has to attend a mandatory staff meeting.”

Busted .

Olivia’s eyes widen. “Uh, I—” she stutters, stalling, trying to think of another lie.

“Yeah,” she says eventually, clearing her throat and evening her voice. “She forgot, and I’m on my way to pick up the keys from her now to drive myself home.”

“Then how is she going to get home?” he counters, clearly unconvinced.

“A colleague said they can drop her off,” she says, voice still a bit shaky.

“Oh, yeah, doesn’t Ms. Tillman live in your neighborhood?” Delilah cuts in, trying her best to save her friend.

“Yeah, yeah, Ms. Tillman is going to drive her home,” Olivia says.

Rat Boy looks at them both suspiciously.

“Wait,” Adrianna says, her eyes shifting from me to Olivia. “I thought you said she was going to tu—”

“Hey, Ads,” I abruptly cut her off. “Why don’t we take a rain check on that dinner,” I say, trying to distract her and divert the conversation so Olivia doesn’t end up in an even bigger hole.

Adrianna’s eyes sparkle in victory.

“I better get going,” I hear Olivia say, scurrying off to avoid further questioning, while Adrianna begins to talk my ear off. I almost go after her, but I don’t want to blow her cover.

Once Rat Boy and Delilah leave, and I tell Adrianna that I’ll do dinner with her sometime, I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket with a new text. It’s Olivia, telling me to meet her in the back corner of the library.

“You’re a really bad liar,” I tell her once I find her. “You really dug yourself into a hole back there.”

She lets out a groan, hiding her face behind her hands.

“Why don’t you just tell him the truth?” I ask gently, taking a seat across from her.

She sighs, removing her hands and shaking her head. “It’s more of a hassle than it’s worth,” she admits, defeated.

“Finch, you can’t just tiptoe around him forever.”

“I know, I know,” she whines, massaging her temples, looking like a real headache is starting to come on.

Feeling bad for her, I decide to let it slide for the time being, wanting her to smile instead.

“I have to admit, this whole situation is very Romeo and Juliet, though. What next? You going to start throwing rocks at my window and professing your feelings for me?” I tease.

She shoots me a glare, standing up and grabbing her pens and highlighters before taking a seat next to me, scooting close. “Just shut up and give me your arm.”