She Got Him. I Got War.

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~~AMELIA~~

***

You know that moment when you're pissed about something—but not exactly surprised?

Yeah. That’s me right now, thanks to Nathaniel.

We agreed I'd come over so we could finish our assignments, but... of course, this guy was busy with something else.

I narrow my gaze at him, lowering my pink tote bag from my shoulder into my hands.

“Nathaniel Elijah Brown!” I call out, my voice echoing through the blue-painted walls of his room.

But Nathaniel? He’s lost in his own world, bouncing on his squishy beanbag, headphones clamped on, fingers flying across his game controller like he's competing in the Olympics or something.

I drag a palm down my face and groan. “Oh my God,” I mutter, stomping toward him with my bag raised above my head like a weapon.

Wham!

The bag lands on his back with a satisfying thud, making my lips curl into a smug smile.

“What a fancy way to say hello,” he scoffs, lifting the headphones off his ears.

“Well, it’s the only way to get a half-deaf gamer to acknowledge another human being,” I say, rolling my eyes as I take a seat on his bouncy, soft bed.

“Remind me who you are again? You've got some guts.” He stretches dramatically, rubbing the back of his neck, his hazel eyes sparkling like golden pearls.

Honestly, if this were any other Saturday, I’d argue with him for an hour—maybe throw a pillow or two. But not today. Today, I’m here for one reason.

We have work to do. No distractions.

“We literally made plans, Nate. To finish Ms. Wesley’s assignment. It’s due Monday, you genius,” I say, unzipping my bag.

“That still doesn’t explain who you are, little miss-know-it-all,” he mutters, strolling toward the bed like he owns it. I mean, it is his room.

And of course, he’s not done teasing.

“If you put half the energy you spend being annoying into your English assignments, you’d be the next Shakespeare,” I shoot back, scrolling through my phone to find the answers I jotted down earlier.

Then comes the line I know by heart—he says it every single time.

“I hate that you’re my best friend. My life must be cursed because I’m this close to losing my sanity.”

Right on cue.

I clear my throat, keeping my eyes on the notebook. “If you really can’t handle it, why do you blow up my phone whenever I don’t answer? Why do you run down the street the second you hear I’m not feeling well?”

Nathaniel joins me on the bed, folding one leg while letting the other hang off the side.

“Remind me to never do that again. Now give me that!” he says, snatching the notebook from my hands.

“I dare you to answer one of those questions right. If you can’t, you’re doing both of our essays. On. Your. Own,” I warn, not in the mood for games.

Nathaniel’s brow twitches. “Easy peasy. Question one: When will Amelia Claire Monroe grow an inch taller? Hmm… I’m gonna say... the third day of Never.” He smirks, proud of himself.

“You jerk!” I shout, lunging at him, trying to punch him—but he bounces off the bed before I can land a hit.

He knows how much I hate height jokes—and that’s exactly why he makes them.

If you want an example of a best friend who’s annoyingly impossible, Nathaniel’s your guy.

“It’s wild how your punches feel like butterfly taps, but you still act like a heavyweight champ,” he teases, tossing the book back onto the bed like he won something.

Just then, my phone alarm blares. The loud chirping fills the room. I glance at the screen and sigh.

We should’ve finished this by now.

“Look, we already wasted time. Let’s get serious,” I say, gesturing for him to join me on the bed again.

Nate sighs with exaggerated drama and heads for his desk. I wouldn’t even call it a real desk—more like a graveyard for unused textbooks and old snack wrappers. Honestly, it’s a miracle he ever scores above average.

We spend the next few minutes grinding through math problems, trading snarky comments, and arguing about who’s better at algebra. (Spoiler alert: it’s me.)

Time flies. I only realize how long we’ve been at it when I check my phone. An hour and twenty minutes. Gone.

I crack my knuckles and stretch my neck. “So glad we’re finally done,” I say with a sigh of relief.

“I’m even happier than you. You have no idea how much torture that was,” Nathaniel groans, picking his game console up from the floor.

He always acts like he hates doing schoolwork with me, but deep down? He doesn’t mind it.

As I start packing up, a small white flyer slips out from between my notebooks.

I bend down to pick it up, grinning at the bold heading:

Keyway's Science Fair — 7th Edition

It’s the one event I always look forward to—especially because I get to do it with Nathaniel.

Even though we’re in different classes, the teachers allow cross-class partners for the science project. And we always choose each other.

“Hey, Nate?” I say, tucking the flyer into my back pocket. “What theme are we doing this year?”

He’s still struggling with the tangled wires from his headphones, so I get up to help.

“Dunno, man. Haven’t decided,” he says lazily, eyes glued to the knot in his hands.

“Want me to pick? I’ve got a few cool ideas this time,” I offer, working on the cords.

“Nah… there’s no need.” He says it so casually I almost miss it. “You’re not on my team this year.”

I freeze.

The wires slip from my hands.

Why did my chest tighten when he said that?