The Captain's Dirty Little Secret

Chapter 102: Chapter 102 - Same Partners

Chemistry was loud when Roxie walked in.

The noise dropped.

Only a little.

Enough for her to know people had been waiting.

She kept her eyes forward and went to her seat beside Angela. Her notebook went on the desk. Her bag went under it. Her face stayed calm because the room wanted a reaction, and she refused to hand one over.

Angela looked at her. ”Roxie.”

”Face front, please. I’m not in a cheerful mood.”

Angela pressed her lips together and faced the board.

The back of the room was quiet.

Roxie knew Zac was there.

She felt him before she saw him. Same table. Same football players. Same silence around him like everyone had learned to leave space when he was in a mood.

She looked down at her notebook.

Mr. Callahan walked in with a stack of packets and his clipboard.

”Phones away,” he said. ”New project.”

A few students groaned.

He ignored them.

”This project builds from your first lab report,” he said. ”Reaction rates. Variables. Controlled samples. Clear observations. Since your first lab data connects to this unit, you will return to your original lab partners.”

Roxie’s pen stopped.

Angela turned her head slowly.

Roxie stared at the board.

No.

Mr. Callahan looked at his list. ”Kendall and Tessa. Noah and Angela. Mason and Dylan.”

Chairs scraped.

Roxie stayed still.

Then he said it.

”Roxie and Zac.”

The room went quiet.

Students were still moving around them, chairs scraping and bags dropping beside new tables, but the sound thinned fast. People looked at Roxie first, then toward the back of the room.

Zac stayed seated.

His pen stayed in his hand. His eyes stayed on her.

Roxie stood because staying in her seat would make this worse. Asking Mr. Callahan for a different partner would make it worse too. Briarwick loved empty space. Give them one pause, one wrong look, one obvious refusal, and they would fill the rest in by lunch.

Her notebook went under one arm. Her pencil case went into her hand. Her bag stayed over her shoulder.

Coward.

That was all she could think as she walked toward him.

Zac Prescott could stare at her from across the room like she had done something unforgivable. He could sit there with his jaw tight and his mood dark enough to shut up half the football table. But he still let her cross the room first.

Fine.

She reached the back table and sat on the open stool beside him without looking at him.

Zac said nothing.

That made her hate him more.

Mr. Callahan dropped a packet between them. ”Choose a project question today. Outline tomorrow. Materials list Friday. Daily observations after setup.”

Roxie reached for the packet.

Zac reached at the same time.

Their fingers brushed.

She pulled the packet to her side and kept her eyes on the page.

Zac leaned closer to read, and his stool scraped an inch toward hers.

”Move,” she said.

He looked at her. ”I’m reading.”

”Read from there.”

His jaw tightened, but he leaned back.

The nearest table had gone quiet. Roxie felt the attention without looking up.

Mr. Callahan glanced over. ”Problem?”

Roxie kept her face calm. ”No, sir.”

Zac said nothing.

Mr. Callahan watched them for another second, then moved on.

Roxie looked down at the list before her face could give anything away.

Factors affecting reaction rate in household solutions.

Acids and bases in food.

Temperature and reaction time.

Factors affecting the rate of oxidation and corrosion.

Decomposition reactions.

Combustion and heat release.

She circled the fourth topic because it looked simple and because circling something gave her hands something to do.

Zac looked at the page. ”Rust?”

”Yes.”

”For a week?”

”Yes.”

”You picked fast.”

”I picked. You got a problem?”

He stared at her for a second, then took the packet and wrote the question without asking.

How does liquid type affect the rate of rust formation on iron nails?

Roxie watched his pen move. His handwriting was neat, slanted, and irritatingly steady.

Mr. Callahan passed their table and read over Zac’s shoulder. ”That works. Tap water, salt water, vinegar, and soda. Same nail type. Same liquid amount. Daily observations.”

Roxie looked up. ”Daily?”

”You chose corrosion,” Mr. Callahan said. ”Corrosion takes time.”

He moved on.

Roxie stared at the circled topic.

A week.

For all the topic she can choose. This is bullshit.

Beside her, Zac wrote the materials list.

Iron nails. Plastic cups. Tap water. Salt water. Vinegar. Soda. Labels. Observation chart.

Roxie copied it into her notebook.

For several minutes, neither of them spoke. That was almost worse. The whole room kept pretending to work, but Roxie could feel people listening every time one of them moved. Zac kept his elbow on his side of the table. His knee stayed away from hers. He had finally given her the space she wanted, and somehow that annoyed her too.

He slid the packet toward her. ”Chart.”

Roxie took it and drew the columns.

Day. Tap water. Salt water. Vinegar. Soda. Notes.

Zac watched her write.

”What?” she asked.

”Nothing.”

”Then stop staring.”

He looked away.

Her pen dug harder into the paper.

The bell rang before Mr. Callahan could give them more instructions. The room moved at once, noisy and relieved, like everyone had been waiting for permission to breathe again.

Roxie packed quickly.

Zac folded the packet and put it in his binder.

She held out her hand. ”Give it to me.”

”No.”

”It has my notes.”

”Our notes.”

”I’ll take a picture.”

”I’ll send it.”

”I don’t want your messages.”

His face stayed flat. ”Then I’ll email it.”

Roxie stared at him.

Angela waited near the door. Mason lingered by the cabinets, pretending to fix the zipper on his bag while watching them too closely.

Roxie lowered her voice. ”You’re impossible.”

Zac looked at her. ”You’re loud.”

Her mouth shut. She grabbed her bag and stepped back from the table.

Zac lifted the binder slightly. ”Monday,” Zac said. ”We’ll meet.”

Roxie’s jaw tightened. ”For the project?”

”What else?”

She hated the way he said it. Flat. Cold. Like he had not spent days looking at her with anger in every hallway.

She turned before she could answer and walked to Angela.

Angela fell into step beside her the moment they reached the hall. ”What happened?”

”Rust,” Roxie said.

Angela blinked. ”What?”

”Our project is rust.”

”That’s all?”

Roxie kept walking.

Behind her, Zac left the classroom with the packet in his binder.

She refused to look back.

”For a week,” she said. ”I’m stuck with him for a week.”