Grant launches into an in depth analysis, asking insightful questions, and engaging in a dialogue with Anders that has something to do with one of the characters in the scene. By the time they’re done, my eyebrows are in an intimate relationship with my hairline and my eyes are at risk of falling out of my head.
“Do you agree, Bex?” Anders asks, even though he knows I did not follow any of that.
“That… seems… accurate.” I have no idea if it’s accurate.
Grant just smiles and whispers, “Told you.”
My wide eyes turn back to Anders, whose gaze is shifting between the two of us. “Right. Well, I’ll leave you two to it. Seems like Grant has it under control. Don’t do all the work for Bex, though,” he says with a wink, turning to help the next group.
We spend the next twenty minutes working with our partners. Grant knows his shit, so I try to contribute where I can. Anders wanders around the room talking to different partner groups, but every time I look over at him, he’s already watching me.
Class wraps up and I cautiously make my way to the front of the theater, telling myself I only want to thank Anders for the coffee.
I hold up my empty to-go cup. “Coffee. Thank you.” Goodness shit. “I mean, thank you for the coffee. Again.”
“Anything to entice you to come to class,” he laughs.
As if I need something other than him to entice me to do literally anything.
“I’m enjoying the class more than I thought I would. You haven’t made me do anything too embarrassing.”
“Yet.” His smile is devious. I’m hot angry again.
“Well that is very comforting, thank you.” I sit in one of the front row seats as I watch Anders pack up his class materials.
“I do my best.” He pauses and takes a deep breath, bracing himself for whatever he’s about to say. “Listen, I wanted to talk to you about something.”
Oh God, the worst sentence known to anyone with even an ounce of anxiety.
“Is this about the alien smut?” I ask, frantically waving my hands in front of my face. “Because I really think it would be better if we all just forg—”
“Bex, stop spiraling. This is not about your alien smut, though I would definitely love to talk more about that.” He sits down next to me and the corners of his eyes do a little crinkle thing as he bites his lip, like he’s trying to stop himself from howling with laughter.
“I only wanted to let you know that I spoke with Professor Callahan this morning about our friendship.” Something inside me revolts at that word and it must show on my face because Anders immediately begins to clarify.
“Sorry if that was overstepping. It’s just that we’ve known each other for a long time now and we’re friends? Ish? Friends-ish?” All of these sentences are ending like a question. I watch as Anders flounders through what he’s trying to tell me, and all of a sudden it hits me. I’m reading too much into this, which is exactly what I was trying to protect myself from.
I get it, now—I’m Gabe’s little sister. I’m not really Anders’ friend, more like friend-adjacent. Friend-ish, as he so eloquently put it.
He continues, “I didn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea about us and wanted to make sure everything was ‘above board.’” He air-quotes this. “Gabe talked to me last night and I realized he was right. I don’t want to get either of us in trouble.”
“You spoke to Gabe about me being in your class?”
“Gabe brought it up actually.” Remind me to kill Gabe. “Sorry this is not going how I wanted it to.” He takes a deep breath. “Bex, I want to be—”
“Friends-ish, yeah. I heard you. I didn’t mean to make things weird. Don’t worry, I’ll just be a regular student in this class. I’m not expecting special treatment or anything.”
“I didn’t mean to imply that you were, but I don’t want to be friends with you.”
I rear back because ouch.
His eyes widen as he realizes what he just said. “Wait, that's not what I mean. I meant—”
“No, it's fine.” I stand abruptly and grab my stuff so I can get the hell out of here.
I can’t even look him in the eye as I speed walk to the exit. “Thanks again for the coffee. That was a very friendly thing to do. I won’t hold my breath for it to happen again.”
Am I being petty? Yes. Do I regret it? Also, yes.