It took everything he had not to cut chemistry class that afternoon. Playing hooky so early in the year certainly wouldn’t reflect well, and that was likely the only thing that convinced him to go in the end.
It was no secret that chemistry was not his strong suit. And, while seventeen-year-old Everett Young had entered his junior year well aware of his strengths and weaknesses, apparently he’d still been ill-prepared for this class.
It was actually his lab partner he hadn’t been ready for.
But then, no one could truly prepare themselves to deal with the likes of Nicholas Rush on a daily basis.
Come to think of it, Everett couldn’t remember the last time he’d had to deal with someone so difficult, especially not from his own age group. Immature, yes, and unpleasant, but this kid was something different completely. Honestly, he was starting to believe that his lab partner argued with him for the sheer sport of it.
Everett could have worked with anyone else, literally anyone. People liked him, and why wouldn’t they? He was even-tempered, and personable, and not particularly unkind either.
But Nicholas was not people, and Nicholas did not like Everett–that much he made known every time he spoke to him, if he decided to speak to him at all. And, god, did the guy make him feel like an idiot!
It didn’t take long for Everett to realize that he disliked Nicholas right back.
Unfortunately, though, they had no choice but to make it work. Their teacher was one of those “you play the hand life deals you” kind of guys; he wouldn’t have let them switch partners if one of them was choking the other with the microscope cord. And, truthfully, that scenario wasn’t too far fetched.
So, hands in pockets and teeth gritted, Everett made his way into class right as the bell rang. Okay, maybe a minute or two following the bell, but at least he was there, right? He was going to get hell either way.