The Opposition

Chapter 18: Carter

I'm so fucking stupid.

I don't know what's come over me. I like to think that I'm a pretty sensible guy, but now I think I'm losing my goddamn mind. Sadie is making me crazy. She's always been good at staying as far away from me as possible, and I've always respected any amount of distance she put between us. But this morning, she let me in and I pounced, like a tiger on its prey, at the opportunity. I couldn't contain myself as I stepped closer and closer to her. I was so sure she was going to kiss me and I was ready. I was eager. But she didn't, and all I could do was walk away and pretend that nothing happened. Trying to screw my head back on, I thought I would tease her. I can't say I wasn't shocked when she accepted my offering and sat right on my lap. I itched to pull her closer, and, no matter how many times I fought it, I couldn't deny that I craved her closeness. I wanted to keep her body pressed against mine and her eyes on me. Does she know how crazy she's making me?

The logical part of my brain kicks into high gear. I know that I can't let these feelings boil over. Especially when I'm sure she doesn't reciprocate them. I would just be begging to get hurt, or worse, I would hurt her. One of us is going to land on top of the Principal's List and win valedictorian, and then we won't even be able to look at each other. Reports come out soon, and I've lost track of who's ahead. Our competitiveness keeps us apart. But why do I have to have the most charming competitor? God, I can't even help but light up at her jeers. Oh, Sadie Jones, I hate you. I hate you for working my brain and consuming my thoughts. If you knew how much I think about you, I think you'd be sick.

Tomorrow Landon and Dimitri will come and they'll help clear my head. They'll help me see reason. This is the girl who's annoyed you for three years, they'll say. And I'll agree. Until I remember her lips so close to mine and her voice so soft in my ear. Are we going to win, Conners? We did. But now I want so much more than a medal around my neck.

I can't help but wonder why is it that the girl always gets the guy? What about when the guy gets the girl? When, to her, he is an afterthought. But, to him, she is his only thought; so lost in the idea of her that he can't even function when she's on his mind. Yet, she remains dancing around him, taunting him, with the idea of what isn't his. That's what you're doing, Sadie Jones. You're the only thing on my mind, but you're slowly drifting away, like a magnet losing its attraction. Maybe I'll never admit it, but I'm forever trying to draw you in.

We won our second debate. Three years of practice has definitely payed off. Something at the back of mind tells me not to get relaxed, though. We may be on a winning streak, but it's easy to get ahead of ourselves when there are other good schools to compete with. I'm surprised I'm even able to speak coherent thoughts when I see Sadie sitting right beside me, her eyes skimming the notes sitting on her crossed legs.

Somehow, partner debates are more exhausting than individual ones. There's an extra level of stress that comes with relying on your partner to articulate their points clearly and refute the other team. Sadie's an incredible debater–even I can't deny that–but my hands are still twisting in my lap every time she takes the stand. That's why, when debates were done, we went straight back to the hotel and collapsed into a three hour long movie marathon. After we were an hour in, I don't think I was even watching the movie anymore. My eyes were firmly trained on Sadie, watching every smile, eye roll, and eyebrow raise. I don't know what's happening to me.

I forget that we're going bowling with Felix until Sadie's standing at the door, scolding me for not being ready. When I finally pull on a pair of sweatpants and a black t-shirt, Sadie's already walking out of the door and I'm running after her before the elevator opens.

"Wait up, will you?" I say, stepping into the elevator with her.

"I don't think so," she says, staring through the glass of the elevator, watching as we go down level after level until we reach the seventh floor.