Page 15 of Scars of Anatomy

Jersey

I walk into the anatomy lecture hall feeling nervous. Like last time, there’s a low murmur over the classroom, students quizzing each other and quickly scanning their notes one last time.

I look up a few tiers and spot Olivia sitting next to Delilah, an empty seat between them as they each review their notes.

As if feeling my gaze on her, Olivia lifts her eyes to meet mine, and she gives me a soft smile.

I jog up the stairs to our row and take a seat one away from Olivia. It’s protocol to leave a seat open between each student on test day to prevent cheating.

“Hey, Finch.”

“Hey. Ready?” she asks, looking anxious.

“I hope so,” I admit nervously. “But I had a great tutor, so I’m pretty confident,” I say, causing her to blush.

For the past month I’ve met up with Olivia a few times a week to study, and I can only hope all of our time together will pay off. I’m almost positive it will. She’s truly a great teacher, but my old insecurities can’t help but creep in.

What if I fail? Then I’ve wasted all of her time for nothing, and I’ll feel absolutely awful.

No, Bronx , I tell myself. You’re going to ace this fucking test and she’s going to look damn good in your jersey at the homecoming game this weekend.

Suddenly feeling very determined, I’m ready for the professor to walk through the door and hand out the papers so I can get this over with. Adrenaline is pumping through my veins the way it does before a big game, and I know I’m ready to tackle this head-on.

When the professor eventually walks in, I can’t get started fast enough.

Staring at the first question, I’m surprised at how fast I can answer it, and with confidence. I seem to be breezing right through the test with only a few answers stumping me.

Olivia, Delilah, and Rat Boy all finish before me, but I make sure not to let that stress me out. I take my time, double- and even triple-checking my answers. When I feel confident enough, I get up and turn my test in, praying I didn’t flunk.

I’m almost certain I didn’t fail. I felt way too sure about some answers, whereas last time I felt like I didn’t know anything. That has to be a good sign, right? At least an improvement?

Trying not to overthink it, I return to my seat and pick up my stuff, slinging my backpack over my shoulder and walking out of the room.

When I make it to the hallway, I’m greeted by a familiar sight.

Olivia is seated on the bench across from the door, the same bench she was sitting on when I found her after our first test, now staring down at her phone. When the door closes behind me, she lifts her head to meet my eyes, staring at me with anxious curiosity, dying to know how I thought it went.

“Well?” she asks impatiently.

I let out a sigh, plopping down next to her on the bench. Closing my eyes, I rest my head back against the wall.

I feel Olivia shift, bending her knee up on the bench between us to face me. Sensing her intense gaze, I peek one of my eyes open to look at her. She’s staring at me with wide eyes full of worry, and my lips involuntarily twitch up at the corners due to her adorableness.

“Bronx!” she whines, shoving my shoulder.

I can’t help but laugh, sitting up straight. “I don’t want to jinx anything,” I confess, “but I think I did pretty well.” I grin, turning to look at her expression.

“Really?” she asks excitedly, eyes sparkling.

“Like I said, I don’t want to jinx it,” I say, standing and stretching. “So don’t get too excited about wearing my jersey just yet,” I tease with a wink.

She rolls her eyes good-naturedly, then stands and grabs her backpack. Brushing past me, she walks down the hall and I fall into step with her.

“But for now,” I muse, “we could have a celebratory lunch date?”

She nods, blushing at the word date . “Yeah, we can do that.”

“Good.” I grin, leading her to the cafeteria.

“So you really think it went well?” she asks cautiously, hopefully, looking up at me with those big, innocent eyes.

“I think so,” I admit earnestly. “So should I give you my jersey now or . . . ?” I trail off, grinning.

She laughs, shaking her head. “We’ll just have to wait until we get our results tomorrow in lab.”

I get to lab just as Tracy opens the door and instructs everyone to put all study materials away for the quiz. Everyone begins shoving things into their backpacks and filing into the classroom.

I find Olivia sitting on the floor of the hallway between Delilah and Rat Boy, packing up.

“Hey, Finch,” I greet her, extending my hand to help her up, earning me a glare from Rat Boy.

“Thank you,” she says, brushing off the back of her jeans.

Before she can lean down to pick up her backpack from the floor, I swoop down and grab it for her, proceeding into the classroom with it.

“Bronx,” she hisses, giggling while chasing me into the room, trying to grab her backpack from me.

“What a gentleman,” I hear Delilah coo behind us, followed by a disgusted noise from Rat Boy.

When everyone is seated, Tracy passes out the quizzes over last week’s material. I surprisingly breeze through it, confident I’m still going to hold up my other end of the bet by getting a C or better on the lab quizzes. Now all I have to worry about is what I got on the test yesterday.

After Tracy collects the quizzes, she reaches for the large stack of papers on her desk that I already know are our tests from lecture.

“I have your tests,” Tracy announces. “When I call your name, please come and grab it from me,” she instructs.

I wait impatiently as she calls name after name. Olivia, Delilah, and Rat Boy all get their tests before me, and look pleased. It isn’t until Tracy has the last test in her hands that she calls my name. Of course.

I walk up to her, my heart thudding nervously in my chest.

“Here you go, Bronx.” Tracy hands me my test, her face neutral.

I immediately stare at the red ink scribbled at the top of my paper, my heart faltering for a moment.

Swallowing hard, I quickly regain my composure and walk back to my desk.

I feel Olivia’s eyes burning into me but I refuse to look at her, taking my seat and shoving my test into my backpack before anyone can see.

“What? Fail again?” I hear Rat Boy snicker maliciously, and it takes everything inside of me not to lunge over the table and break his fucking nose. Along with his jaw. See if he can make any more smartass comments after that.

Olivia quickly shoots him a glare, and for a split second I see a flash of regret cross his face. He’s only guilty because he upset her; he couldn’t give his own kind’s ass if he hurt me or not.

Olivia’s eyes eventually swing to me, softening, full of questioning and worry. I can tell she’s dying to know about my grade, but she’s too polite to flat out ask me.

I only shake my head, grabbing my lab manual as Tracy begins teaching this week’s lesson and shoving my nose into the book.

The rest of the lab I try my best to focus, acting as neutral as possible. I can tell Olivia is trying to walk on eggshells around me, worried about my reaction, or lack thereof, after getting my test back.

When Tracy dismisses us, I can’t pack up my stuff fast enough and head out the door. I make it halfway down the hallway before I hear footsteps running up behind me.

“Bronx! Bronx, wait!” I hear Olivia call after me, her footsteps nearing closer.

“Bronx,” she says breathlessly, catching up to me and grabbing my bicep.

I stop in my tracks, and she cautiously walks around me to stand face-to-face. Those warm brown eyes search mine, worry marring her forehead.

“Bronx?” she says softly, still desperately searching my eyes for some sort of answer.

I let out a sigh, closing my eyes and pinching the bridge of my nose. When I finally look up, I watch her face fall and shoulders deflate.

“How bad?” she whispers carefully.

Instead of answering verbally, I shrug off my backpack and reach inside it to pull out my test. I hand it to her, restlessly shifting on my feet.

Slowly, hesitantly, she grabs my test from my hands, her eyes immediately landing on my score. I watch as a handful of emotions scroll over her face. Her brows pinch together in confusion for a few moments before smoothing over, and she blinks a few times.

Confused, she frantically flips through the pages, eyes scanning my answers. She eventually makes her way back to the first page, her eyes trained on the red ink once more.

Her eyes snap up to mine, widening in shock and surprise. “Bronx.”

I can’t help but grin, gently grabbing my test back from her. My smile widens as I stare at the 82% and the B- written at the top of my paper in red ink.

“You did it,” she breathes in disbelief, a slow smile making its way onto her face.

I nod, my grin almost splitting my face. “I did it.”

“You did it!” she exclaims excitedly, throwing her arms around my shoulders, hugging me.

I immediately wrap my arms around her waist, picking her up a few inches off the ground and spinning her around a couple of times in the middle of the hallway. She lets out a melodic laugh, taking a step back to look at me when I set her back down.

“You scared the heck out of me!” she cries, shoving my shoulder.

I can’t help but chuckle, placing my hands on her shoulders and running them down her arms until I capture her hands in mine. “You can say shit , Finch,” I tease. “And come on, did you really think I’d fail with you as my tutor?”

She shyly tears her gaze away from mine, humbly shrugging a shoulder.

“I passed all because of you, Olivia,” I say, dipping my head to meet her eyes. “Thank you.”

She blushes. “You’re welcome.”

“How about we have an official celebratory lunch?” I ask, smiling.

Her face falls, and a slight pout forms on her lips. “I would love to, but I actually have a lunch meeting with Professor Cooper.”

I feel my shoulders deflate. “Do you really, or are you just trying to get out of lunch with me?” I joke, chuckling lightly, praying she really does have a meeting, instead of trying to use that excuse to ditch me like she did with Rat Boy.

“I promise you I do actually have a meeting with Professor Cooper,” she says, laughing lightly, actually seeming disappointed. “How about dinner instead?” she asks hopefully.

I sigh, using my thumbs to rub circles into her palms. “Can’t. I have practice,” I say sadly.

She frowns, looking just as disappointed.

“Rain check?” I ask hopefully.

Her lips twitch upward. “Sure.”

“All right.” I sigh dramatically, causing her to laugh, then reluctantly let go of her hands. “Have fun at your lunch meeting.”

“Loads,” she says sarcastically, giving me an apologetic smile. “I’ll see you in English.”

She gives me a small wave goodbye before walking away, heading toward Professor Cooper’s office.

“Finch, wait!” I call, reaching into my backpack.

She spins around, looking at me expectantly.

“For Saturday,” I inform her, throwing a maroon article of fabric at her.

She fumbles to catch it, caught off guard, the fabric nearly slipping from her fingers and falling to the floor. I watch as she unfolds it and holds it out in front of her at arm’s length to inspect, my last name and number staring back at her.

“You’re going to look really good in it,” I tell her, grinning.

She laughs, and shakes her head in disbelief before draping my jersey over her arm and heading back down the hallway, smiling at me over her shoulder.