Chapter 115: Chapter 115 - Experiment Kiss
Mr. Callahan had already opened the chemistry room by the time Roxie got there.
He was inside the prep room with the door half open, moving around between cabinets. The lab itself was quiet except for the low hum of the lights and the faint sound of paper shifting from the other room.
The cups sat in a row at the back counter.
Tap water.
Salt water.
Vinegar.
Soda.
Dry control.
Roxie dropped her bag onto the stool and opened the packet.
Zac came in two minutes later.
Late.
He put his backpack down without looking at her.
Roxie watched him.
He pulled out the stool and sat.
Then he took out a pencil.
Still said nothing.
That made her angrier than if he had spoken.
She walked toward him.
He stayed seated, one elbow on the table, pencil loose in his hand. His face was flat. His shoulders looked tired. He barely lifted his eyes when she stopped in front of him.
Roxie hated that too.
"How does it feel?" she asked.
His brow moved slightly. "What?"
"Being a thief."
His eyes narrowed a little. "What are you talking about?"
"Leaving things on other people’s desks and walking away."
Zac leaned back on the stool. "It was flowers."
"It was a stunt."
"It was a birthday present."
"You couldn’t even sign your name."
His jaw tightened, but he stayed seated.
That made it worse.
Roxie crossed her arms. "What? Scared the flowers would ruin your future?"
His eyes stayed on her. "I was trying to be nice."
"Try louder next time."
"I didn’t know flowers needed a public announcement."
"You love public attention. Just only when I’m not attached to it."
Zac looked down at the packet. "I didn’t sign it because I knew you’d do this."
Roxie laughed. "Smart. Cowardly, but smart."
His hand tightened around the pencil.
"I wanted to greet you," he said.
"Then say it."
He looked back up at her.
Roxie lifted her chin.
The room was quiet.
The prep room door was half open.
Zac’s mouth tightened. "Happy birthday."
The words hit wrong.
Too plain.
Too late.
Too tired.
Like he had already spent whatever feeling came with them and only the sentence was left.
Roxie felt something twist in her chest and turned it into anger before it could soften her.
"I don’t need your flowers."
Zac stared at her.
Then he looked down at the packet again.
"Then throw them away."
Roxie paused.
The room felt too quiet after that.
He didn’t spit the words at her. He didn’t sound angry enough. He sounded tired. Done. Like he had handed her something and already accepted that she would ruin it.
Her fingers curled at her sides.
"That’s it?" she asked.
Zac wrote the date on the observation sheet. "What else do you want?"
"I want you to stop acting like you’re doing me a favor."
"I bought you flowers, Roxie. I didn’t ask you to marry me in front of the school."
"No, because that would require people knowing you gave them."
His eyes sharpened. "You’re still on that."
"I’m always going to be on that."
For one second, she thought he would finally stand.
He didn’t.
"I left them because I didn’t want to fight in first period," he said.
Roxie’s throat tightened.
"So brave."
His eyes lifted again. "You want to fight now?"
"You clearly don’t."
"I’m tired."
That scared her.
It pissed her off too, but under that was something colder.
Zac tired meant Zac pulling back.
Zac pulling back meant silence.
Silence meant the same thing it always meant now.
Someone leaving.
Roxie stepped closer. "Poor Zac."
He looked at her hand when it hit the edge of the table, then back at her face. "Careful."
Her eyes flashed. "You think you know me now?"
"No." He leaned back again. "I know you’re trying to make me the bad guy cause you can’t face what you feel."
"You are too full of yourself and a fucking coward."
"Then this should be easy."
Roxie’s mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
He looked away first and reached for the salt water cup.
The movement was calm.
Too calm.
Roxie watched him lift the cup, look at the nail, and write on the sheet.
"Salt water," he said. "Light rusting around the lower half. Water slightly cloudy."
"Don’t do that."
"Do what?"
"Act like nothing happened."
"You said you didn’t need my flowers."
"I don’t." Her chest tightened again.
Zac moved to the tap water cup.
"Minor rust. Water mostly clear."
Roxie snatched the pencil from his hand. He let her have it. That made her angrier.
"I can write."
"Then write."
She wrote the observation so hard the pencil dented the paper.
Zac watched her hand.
"Stop looking."
"I’m looking at the sheet."
"You’re looking at me."
"You’re standing in front of the sheet."
Roxie stepped closer instead of moving away. "Then stand up."
"No."
The answer was quiet.
Flat.
Roxie’s skin prickled.
"What?"
"I said no." Zac looked up at her. "I’m not standing up so you can shove me and call it my fault."
Her face heated.
"I didn’t ask you to touch me."
"You shoved me yesterday."
"You kissed me yesterday."
"You kissed me back."
"You started it."
"You pulled me in."
Roxie’s hand tightened around the pencil until her fingers hurt.
Zac’s voice stayed low. "See? This is why I left the flowers and stayed quiet. Everything turns into this."
Roxie stared at him.
Everything.
Her mother said she should have been easier to love.
Zac looked at her like she was exhausting.
The flowers sat in her locker like one more thing she had no idea how to keep.
Her eyes burned.
She turned it sharp.
"You’re the one who likes hiding."
Zac’s face changed.
A little.
Enough.
Roxie stepped closer. "Flowers with no name. Kisses where nobody sees. Defending me where nobody hears. You have a pattern."
His jaw flexed. "You want to call me a coward again?"
"You are one."
"Fine."
The word hit harder than shouting.
Roxie’s breath caught.
Zac looked back at the observation sheet. "Vinegar."
Roxie stared at him.
He was really going to keep working.
He was really going to sit there, let her call him a coward, and write vinegar like none of it mattered enough to make him stand.
She grabbed the packet and shoved it against his chest.
"Look at me."
He looked.
His face was hard now, but tired underneath.
"I’m looking."
"Say something."
"I did."
"Something real."
"You want real?" He set the packet down. "I bought you flowers. You got mad. I said happy birthday. You got mad. I said throw them away because I’m done begging you to take something without cutting my hand off first."
Roxie froze.
He kept his eyes on hers.
"You don’t want flowers," he said. "You want proof. And whatever I give you, it won’t be enough because I didn’t do it the way you needed before you even told me the rules."
Roxie’s throat tightened.
"I wanted you to sign your name," she said.
"No." His voice sharpened for the first time. "You wanted me to prove I wasn’t ashamed, in front of a room full of people, with everyone staring, after you already decided I’d fail."
"You did fail."
"Then throw them away."
The room went dead quiet.
Roxie stared at him.
Zac’s eyes stayed on hers, but something in his face had closed.
There was no chase in it.
Just him sitting there with the pencil in his hand, jaw tight, looking like he had finally found the edge of what he was willing to give.
Roxie hated it.
Her chest hurt.
She stepped closer until her knees touched the stool.
Zac looked up at her.
"Move," she said.
"You came to me."
"Move."
"No."
Her pulse hit hard.
She grabbed the front of his hoodie.
His eyes dropped to her hand.
"Roxie."
She pulled him up from the stool.
He stood because she pulled, but he didn’t reach for her.
That made her panic worse.
Her voice came out low. "You’re really done?"
His jaw tightened. "With fighting over flowers? Yeah."
"With me?"
Roxie stared at him, waiting for his mouth to move, waiting for him to say no, waiting for him to look angry enough to prove he still cared.
He only looked at her.
Tired.
Closed.
Her chest tightened.
"Answer me," she said.
His jaw flexed, but he stayed quiet.
Something in her snapped.
She kissed him.
Hard.
No warning.
Her mouth crashed into his like she could force the answer out of him if she kissed him hard enough. Zac went still for half a second.
He did not answer.
That made it worse.
Roxie pulled at his hoodie, dragging him closer, her other hand sliding up to the back of his neck. "Answer me," she breathed against his mouth.
Zac’s jaw tightened.
Still nothing.
So she kissed him again, angrier this time. Her mouth opened against his, clumsy and furious, and when her tongue brushed his, Zac made a rough sound low in his throat.
There.
That was the answer her pride wanted.
His hands finally moved. One gripped the edge of the table. The other went to her waist, hard enough to make her gasp. He pulled her between his knees, and Roxie stepped into him like she had been waiting for him to stop pretending.
Zac kissed her back rough, but even then, she could feel the restraint in him. It was in the way he held her waist instead of dragging her closer than she gave. In the way his hand slid under the hem of her shirt and stopped at her side, hot against her skin, waiting.
That restraint pissed her off more than anything.
She bit his lower lip.
Zac groaned into her mouth.
A chair scraped in the prep room.
They froze.
Zac pulled back first.
Roxie stared at him, breathing hard, mouth hot, hands still gripping his hoodie.
His face was close.
His voice came rough. "Observation."
Roxie let go like his hoodie burned.
"Fine."
"Fine."
He bent and picked up the pencil.
She turned back to the table and grabbed the packet.
For the next ten minutes, they worked without looking at each other.
Roxie wrote too hard.
Zac corrected one word.
She crossed it out.
He rewrote it.
She shoved the vinegar cup toward him.
He set it back in line.
Their hands hit once over the soda cup.
Neither apologized.
Mr. Callahan came out of the prep room and checked the sheet.
"Tuesday observation complete," he said. "Wednesday, same time. Final paper Friday."
Roxie grabbed her bag before he finished.
Zac looked at her once.
She didn’t look back.
"Miss Jones," Mr. Callahan said.
Roxie stopped at the door.
"Your packet."
She turned, took it from the table, and shoved it into her bag.
Zac was still standing near the cups.
His mouth was red.
His face was closed.
Roxie hated the flowers in her locker.
She hated him for buying them.
She hated herself for keeping them.
She walked out first.
The hallway was nearly empty.
She stormed toward her locker, opened it, and stared at the bouquet sitting inside.
Throw them away.
Her hand closed around the stems.
She pulled them out.
The trash can was five steps away.
Roxie stood there, breathing hard, staring at it.
Then she shoved the flowers back into the locker, slammed the door, and walked away.
