Page 6 of Only ever you-Ana & Byron
"So, wait," he said a little later while flipping to the right page with a grin, "you reckon Curley's wife is hot, or just lonely?"
"She's lonely," Ana said, elbowing him.
"Yeah, but Steinbeck made her all-red lips and curled hair and soft voice... bit of a tease for a tragedy, don't you think?"
"She's symbolic," Ana muttered, cheeks warm. "Of isolation. And gender roles. And dreams that get people killed."
Byron leaned back on his elbows, watching her. "You get properly worked up about this stuff, don't you?"
"It's called passion," she said. "You should try it sometime."
He didn't reply. Just stared at the ceiling a bit too long, before murmuring, "I did. Once."
She didn't ask what he meant. She had a feeling it involved that girl from the other school. Marianne. The one with the long legs and sharp eyeliner. Ana had pretended not to listen to the gossip. Marianne had a Myspace account, and she had lurked in the corners. They'd had a messy breakup last term, from what Cadi had said in passing. Because Byron told Gray, Gray told Cadi, and Cadi told Ana.
It had stung more than she expected. Not because she'd thought she had a chance, but because she'd hoped...that maybe someday...
Now, Cathy Liston was hovering, and Byron's eyes lingered longer than they used to. Ana had long decided that distance from Byron was smart. Necessary. Safer for her sanity.
Byron nudged her knee. "You alright?"
"Yeah. Just thinking about Curley's wife."
"Let me guess. Tragic victim of a misogynistic society'?"
She looked at him. "Actually, yes."
He gave her that grin again-the 'playboy grin' in Ana's book.
They went back to reading. And if Ana found herself glancing at him when he wasn't looking, well... she was only human.
Just smart enough to know better.
Chapter four
Chapter 4
Ana & Byron(Year 11)
"Explain it again," Byron said, frowning at the algebraic expression like it had personally offended him.
Ana leaned back in her chair and covered her eyes "It's literally basic factorisation, Byron."
"Basic for you, maybe," he muttered, pencil tapping uselessly against his textbook. "I'm better at movement. Not numbers. Or biology...striated muscles...smooth muscles...its bollocks."
"You took PE as a GCSE subject. And you knew you needed to do a bit of biology for that," Ana pointed out.
"Yeah, well, I didn't think PE would have so much damn theory. I thought I just had to play."
She arched an eyebrow. "Everything has a theoretical aspect. Even your biceps."
Byron grinned and flexed them. "You noticed?"
"Hard not to," she muttered under her breath, eyes flicking back to the equation before he could see her blush.
"Wanna touch them?"
"No thanks, I’m good."
