Hating Jordan Gallagher was just like breathing oxygen, it came so naturally, I didn't even have to think about it. Now, you must be thinking, Wow Elyse, what'd he do to you? You should be asking what he hasn't done.
He's the kind of guy who thinks the world revolves around him—and apparently, my life is just one of his many playgrounds. He is the literal definition of a player, he couldn't care less about what anyone thinks about him. Not to mention the fact that he treats girls like they're disposable.
But here's the thing: I don't have time to waste on Jordan. I've got my eyes set on the best biomedical engineering program in the country, and every minute I spend rolling my eyes at him is a minute I could be closer to that dream.
Still, no matter how much I try to avoid him, he seems to be everywhere — the halls, the labs, even next door. And honestly? That's what scares me the most.
Tap tap tap.
I freeze, pen hovering over my notes. I don't have to look to know where the sound came from.
Tap. Tap.
I sigh. Deeply. Dramatically. The kind of sigh that comes from years of dealing with the human migraine that is Jordan Gallagher.
Slowly, I turn toward my window.
There he is—pressed up against the glass like some smug golden retriever in a backwards baseball cap. His stupidly perfect smile spreads across his face when he sees I've noticed him.
I slide the window up two inches—just enough to glare at him through the gap.
"What?" I snap.
"Hey, neighbor," he says casually, like he doesn't make it his full-time job to annoy me. "Your light was on. Thought maybe you finally got a life."
"I do have a life. It just doesn't involve late-night window chats with egomaniacs."
He chuckles, unfazed. "You wound me, Gates."
I roll my eyes and slam the window shut. I should be studying. I should be focusing. But instead, my heart's pounding harder than it should, and I hate that he knows it.
Yeah, yeah I know what you're thinking, how original you're next door neighbors. But it's not like I chose this for myself, we've always lived here, and they've always lived there. Well, at least for as long as I've been alive. And it just so happens that our rooms are right across from each other, and that stupid, stupid tree makes it possible for him to slither his way across any time he wants.
Tap. Tap.
I take a deep breath, trying to erase the thoughts of him getting 'accidentally' thrown off our roof and hitting the ground below, turn to the window, open it fully and say, "Seriously Gallagher, what do you want?"
"What I want Gates? Hmmm," he ponders innocently, "Well, I think you know exactly what I want," he states as he crawls through my window.
I scoff in amazement as he stands in my room smiling at me sweetly like he isn't a spawn straight from the depths of hell. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
He shrugs, like breaking and entering through my second-story window is totally normal behavior. "I forgot my chem notes."
"You weren't even in class today."
"Yeah, but I figured you were, and you'd have your notes all nice and neat, and let's be honest you don't really need them. Do you? And I don't know... I missed you."
I blink. "Missed me?"
"I mean, the sound of your constant judgment. Really makes my night."
I throw a pen at his head. He catches it, laughing like this is just a cute little bonding moment, not a crime.
"Get out, Gallagher."
"I will. Just one second." He walks over, scanning my desk like he's looking for something. "You always color-code your notes?"
"Jordan—"
"That's kind of... cute."
That does it. I march over and grab his arm, trying to shove him back toward the window. He's stronger than he looks—ugh, of course—but eventually, I manage to push him halfway out onto the ledge.
"You're insane," I mutter.
"Only about you, Gates."
He winks. WINKS. And then he's gone, slipping onto that godforsaken tree branch like the arrogant pest he is—smug, reckless, and too proud to fall. I slam the window again, this time so hard my blinds shake.
And yet, I'm smiling. Just a little.