The classroom was buzzing with noise that morning, the teacher scribbling something on the board while students whispered among themselves.
"Alright, class," the teacher announced, "today you'll be working in pairs for a short research project. I'll be assigning partners."
A chorus of groans followed.
I scribbled down the project title in my notebook, barely paying attention—until I heard my name.
"Aya Ramos… you'll be with Lawrence Cruz."
Of course.
The room instantly filled with whispers.
"Again? She's always paired with him!"
"Is the teacher doing this on purpose?"
I sighed quietly, closing my notebook.
Lawrence, seated beside me, didn't even react. He just leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.
When the teacher finished assigning partners, I turned to him. "So… when do you want to start working on it?"
He raised an eyebrow. "You're eager."
"I just don't want to fail."
He shrugged. "We won't fail."
"Then when?"
"After class," he said lazily, returning his gaze to the window.
I bit back a comment. He was so casual about everything, like this project didn't even matter.
The final bell rang hours later, and we stayed behind as everyone else left. The classroom felt unusually quiet, sunlight streaming through the windows, dust floating lazily in the air.
I sat at my desk, spreading out my notes. Lawrence sat across from me, chin resting in his hand, looking utterly bored.
"Okay," I began, trying to sound patient, "we need to divide the work. I can handle the research if you want to write the report."
He didn't answer immediately.
"Lawrence?"
"Hmm?"
"Are you even listening?"
He finally looked at me, his expression unreadable. "You talk a lot."
I frowned. "Because we need to plan this."
He sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Fine. I'll write."
"Really?"
"Yeah. You don't have to act like it's such a big deal."
I clenched my jaw, trying to stay calm. "I'm just trying to make sure we do well."
He smirked faintly, like he found my frustration amusing.
We worked in silence for a while, the only sounds being my pen scratching against paper and the faint rustle of pages as Lawrence flipped through a textbook.
At one point, I noticed his handwriting—neat and precise, surprisingly careful for someone who looked so lazy.
I didn't comment, though.
Finally, I glanced at his notes. "You're actually… pretty good at this."
He looked at me, raising an eyebrow. "Did you expect me to be bad at it?"
"I just thought you didn't care about school."
"I don't," he said simply, returning to his notes. "But I'm not stupid."
I blinked, unsure how to respond to that.
After an hour, I stretched, rubbing my stiff shoulders. "Okay, I think we got enough done for today."
Lawrence stood, slipping his notebook into his bag.
As we left the classroom, I noticed two girls standing by the door, whispering.
"They're staying late together again."
"Do you think they're dating?"
My cheeks warmed, but Lawrence didn't even glance at them.
He just walked ahead, hands in his pockets, completely unfazed.
I frowned slightly, hurrying to catch up. "Doesn't it bother you? The rumors?"
"No."
"…Why not?"
"Because they're just rumors," he said simply, not slowing his pace.
I stared at his back for a moment before sighing.
I wished I could be as unaffected as he was.
When we reached the school gates, he finally glanced at me. "Same time tomorrow?"
I nodded. "Yeah."
"Good," he said, turning to leave.
For a moment, I watched him walk away, wondering why he even bothered to ask.
If he really hated working with me, he wouldn't care about meeting again tomorrow… right?
But then again, maybe he was just being practical.
I shook my head, dismissing the thought.
It didn't matter.
At least… that's what I kept telling myself.