Chapter 5

• The tension from that conversation stayed with me long after Isabelle and Andre had disappeared. Their words echoed in my mind, refusing to settle.
• By the time the final bell rang, I felt like I was walking through a haze, my thoughts running in circles. I barely registered the whispers around me, the lingering stares as I packed up my things. But one thing snapped me back to reality—Andre waiting at the school gate.
• He leaned against the metal bars, arms crossed, exuding an effortless confidence that commanded attention. And attention was exactly what he was getting. A cluster of students stood nearby, whispering and pointing, their curiosity thick in the air.
• I hesitated for only a moment before walking toward him. The murmurs grew louder as I approached.
• “What is she doing with him?”
• “Maybe it’s a dare.”
• “She must think she’s special or something.”
• I ignored them, stopping just a few feet away from Andre. “What are you doing?” I asked, keeping my voice low.
• He grinned. “Waiting for you. We’ve got work to do, partner.”
• I sighed, glancing around at our audience. “You’re making a scene.”
• He pushed off the gate, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Let them watch.”
• With that, he started walking. And, against my better judgment, I followed.
• Andre led me away from the school, past familiar streets and into an older part of town I had never really paid attention to before. The houses here were small, simple, worn at the edges but lived in.
• Finally, he stopped in front of a modest, two-story building with peeling paint and a rusted gate. It wasn’t quite what I expected, though I wasn’t sure what I had expected in the first place.
• “Is this your place?” I asked, glancing around.
• He shrugged, pushing the gate open. “Home?” He paused, then gave a small, humorless laugh. “Yeah, you can say that.”
• Something about his tone made me hesitate. I looked at him carefully. “Where’s your family?”
• His expression hardened almost instantly. “You talk too much,” he said. “Focus on the research so we can finish this soon.”
• I frowned but didn’t push. Instead, I followed him inside. The place was sparse—no decorations, barely any furniture, just the bare essentials. It didn’t feel like a home, not really.
• Andre sat down at a small, cluttered desk, flipping open a notebook. “Alright,” he said. “Let’s get started.”
• I forced myself to focus, pushing my questions aside. As we worked, I noticed something strange—Andre wasn’t just throwing out random suggestions or slacking off like I expected. He was sharp, quick to analyze ideas, and surprisingly knowledgeable.
• For the first time since meeting him, I saw past the image of the cocky, reckless guy everyone knew him to be. Andre wasn’t just muscle and looks. He was smart. And, when he wanted to be, he could even be… nice.
• Maybe, just maybe, there was more to him than I had thought.
• After a while, my stomach let out an embarrassing growl. I quickly placed a hand over my stomach, hoping he hadn’t noticed, but Andre raised an eyebrow.
• “Hungry?” he asked, smirking.
• I huffed. “A little.”
• He leaned back in his chair and stretched. “Alright, let’s order pizza.”
• I was about to protest, but before I could, he was already pulling out his phone. A few minutes later, he tossed it aside. “Shouldn’t take long.”
• Silence stretched between us as we waited. I tapped my fingers against the table, glancing around the empty room. The air felt thick, filled with unspoken questions, ones I wasn’t sure I was allowed to ask.
• The pizza arrived, and we sat across from each other on the floor, the open box between us. As we ate, the silence returned, awkward and heavy.
• I decided to break it. “Let’s play a game.”
• Andre looked up, chewing. “A game?”
• “Yeah,” I said. “It’s simple. We take turns asking each other questions. No skipping.”
• He raised a brow, swallowing his bite. “And if I don’t feel like answering?”
• I smirked. “Then I get to ask another question, and you have to answer that one.”
• He studied me for a moment, then shrugged. “Fine. You go first.”
• I took a second to think. “What’s your favorite food?”
• He snorted. “Seriously? That’s your question?”
• I nodded. “Gotta start easy.”
• “Alright, fine.” He leaned back on one arm. “Probably steak.”
• “Figures,” I muttered. “Your turn.”
• He tapped his chin, then smirked. “Why do you always look like you’re overthinking everything?”
• I opened my mouth, then closed it. “I do not.”
• “You totally do.”
• I sighed. “Fine. I guess I just… like understanding things. Knowing why people do what they do.”
• “Huh,” he said, taking another bite. “Alright, your turn.”
• I hesitated before asking, “What’s your deal with Isabelle?”
• His smirk faltered slightly, but he quickly recovered. “That’s two questions.”
• “No, it’s one with a follow-up.”
• He exhaled, setting his slice down. “It’s complicated.”
• “That’s not an answer.”
• “It’s the one you’re getting.”
• I frowned but let it go. “Fine. Your turn.”
• He leaned in slightly, eyes locked onto mine. “Why did you really follow me today?”
• I hesitated, the truth sitting heavy in my chest. “Because I want to understand you.”
• Something flickered across his face—something unreadable. But then, as quickly as it came, it was gone.
• We continued the game, our questions growing deeper with each turn. Somewhere between asking him about his childhood and him teasing me about my music taste, I realized something strange.
• I was enjoying this.
• Andre wasn’t just tolerable. He was… interesting. Layered. And for the first time, he wasn’t hiding behind his usual arrogance. He was just Andre.
• And that scared me more than anything else.