In a blink, it was October, just as I had feared. The leaves were turning to late fall's warm colors, and I had made zero progress with Cale. My grade didn't depend on him, but part of the project was to work together. Still, how could I work with someone that didn't want to work?

"Mrs. Sommers, he won't do anything. I need a more supportive partner," I argued after school one day.

"Dee, you are an excellent student; organized and prepared. I can understand why you might struggle with Cale, but believe it or not, I paired you two together on purpose. I think a little thought diversity will be good for you. Give him a chance; he may surprise you."

My mind whirled; she had done this on purpose. It felt like a betrayal. I was all for thought diversity, but Cale Benton needed a thought before he could provide any diversity. It was ridiculous.

I was still cranky when Chris caught up with me at my locker.

"Oh no, what happened?" He let out a chuckle at my annoyance.

"Don't laugh at me," I shot at him.

"I can't help it. You're adorable when you're mad."

"That's belittling. You wouldn't say that if I was a guy."

"Last week, when I was pissed, you called me adorable," he argued. "And last I checked, I was a guy."

"Yes, but that's because you were mad that Cami beat you at checkers; it was adorable," I shot.

"Well then, what's the reason that you may or may not be adorably mad?"

"Cale Benton," I muttered.

"What's the deal with you and him? He's just your capstone partner. You don't even have to meet with him."

"We're supposed to use our partners as our sounding board for our ideas. The last time I tried to use him as a sounding board, he fell asleep."

"Well, it sounds like he mastered the bored part, at least," Chris offered.

"Not funny," I said as I pushed by him and charged down the hall.

"Oh, come on, terrible puns are your favorite." The pounding of his footsteps echoed around me as he chased after me. It was easy for his long legs to catch up to my barely 5-foot-5-inch pace.

"Seriously, Chris." I stopped short, causing him to collide with me. "What am I going to do about Cale?"

I didn't bother to collect myself; I knew Chris would keep me upright. His hands fell to my waist to prevent me from ricocheting off him as he lifted me a bit, so I was on solid footing, and then set me back down.

"I don't know, Dee. Honestly, I'm a little tired of hearing about the dude. Maybe you should think about something else for a little while."

"Like what, Chris? What do you suggest I think about instead of my future getting flushed down the drain by the prom king?"

"What about the Fall Ball? It's just around the corner. We should go, right?" He offered.

"Of course, we'll go; we always go." His question felt inane and flared my annoyance further.

"No, I mean like together," Chris added as he peered at me.

"Yeah, we always do. That's fine. I don't have enough time for boys, anyway. It's our junior year; this is the year that all the universities will look at," I absently said.

"Right, junior year," he muttered to himself.

"Ugh, I should go find Cale; we have to set up our next collaboration session. Apparently, he's going to provide me with 'thought diversity,'" I grumbled.

I found Cale hovering around the cheerleaders' bake sale table, flirting with Melissa.

"Cale," I said, a bit more sternly than warranted, causing his eyes to snap up at me.

"Oh hey, Delly," he casually said, as though we were friends.

"Don't call me Delly; it's Dee," I reminded him for the millionth time. "You know people's names are important; you should get them right." My frustration overwhelmed rational thought, so I gave up on collaborating with him and turned on my heel to get away.

"Woah, woah, woah," he chased after me. As though it was a well-practiced play from his playbook, he tucked the brownie he had been holding into his mouth and grabbed me by the waist so I couldn't continue my charge.

"Let me go, Cale!"

"Easy, Del," he said as he pulled the brownie back out of his mouth. "Why are you always so pissed at me?"

"I'm not always so pissed. I'm frustrated with you because you take nothing seriously and think about no one but yourself. This project is important to me, and you're supposed to be my sounding board; you're supposed to bring me the thought diversity to excel," I stammered.

"What the hell is thought diversity?" He mumbled to himself.

"I just can't," I shot as I turned to leave again.

"Woah, easy, slow down." He hooked my belt loop with a finger so I couldn't escape. "Look, I'm sorry. It's just the fall; I'm busy with starting classes, football, the Fall Ball."

"Oh yeah, you're busy. Because it's always about you."

"Did I do something to you? Like, why exactly do you hate me so much?"

"You just walk around here with all your popular friends, and everyone falls to your feet. You care more about that brownie than the capstone."

"It's a good brownie," he argued.

"Do you even know who made that brownie? I'll give you a hint; it wasn't one of those cheerleaders. Maybe if you got to know someone outside your circle, you'd know that. How am I supposed to get help from you on a community project when you don't even know most of the people in your own high school community?"

"Wow, rant much? It's a brownie, Delly; chill out. And maybe it wouldn't hurt for you to get to know some cheerleaders before you condemn them to Vanna White status."

"Vanna White is a fascinating person. She flips houses, has donated over a million dollars to St. Jude Children's Research Hospital, and has her own line of yarn."

"Yarn? How do you know so much about Vanna White?"

"I read her biography."

"Of course you did." he shook his head. "Listen, I'll be a better partner. You're right; I should take this seriously, for thought diversity or whatever."

"Good, library, today, 3 pm."

"I can't at 3 pm; I have practice."

I pulled away again.

"Woah," he caught me, and I fell back into him. "We need to stop meeting like this." He flashed his boyish grin.

That was his trick; he tried to disarm everyone with his annoying charm. It didn't work on me; I just gave him a blank, bordering on an angry look back.

"Let's meet at Telly's Cafe at 4 pm. I'll even buy you a cup of coffee," he offered to my stone face. "Tea? Hot cocoa? Tepid water?"

"Fine," I begrudgingly agreed. "I'll see you at 4 pm." When I spun away from him this time, he didn't stop me.

At 4:30 pm, I left Telly's. I arrived home with a thunderous bang of the front door to alert the household that I wasn't in the mood for anything. He blew me off. As annoyed as I was at Cale for ditching me, I was more pissed at myself for expecting anything different. I went straight to my room and angrily organized my closet.

"Uh, Delly?" His voice was tentative but close.

I froze; I must be imagining things; Cale Benton wouldn't be in my bedroom.

"Del, do you have headphones in?" Reluctance still muted his volume.

"No, I don't have headphones in." I didn't bother to turn to face him.

"Um, what are you doing?"

"I'm angry cleaning; it's soothing."

"Really? It doesn't look soothing. Have you tried like yoga or something? My mom started yoga when she and my dad got divorced. I think it helps. That, or the wine bar next door to yoga helps."

"What do you want, Cale?"

"Look, I'm sorry. I got held up; I should've called."

"Honestly, I'm not mad at you." My head shook without effort. "I'm pissed at myself for actually thinking you'd show up."

I heard the exhale of his breath from behind me. "I deserve that."

"What do you want, Cale?"

"I'm here; I brought tea and a giant cookie. We can study now."

I lifted my eyes to see him clutching two drinks and a cookie bag. "I'm busy," I shot at him.

"Yeah, I see that, but what you don't know is that I brought a secret weapon." He fumbled to grasp the cookie in the same hand as the drinks before pulling a new pack of highlighters from his back pocket. "Come on; you know you can't resist that new highlighter smell."

"I don't huff highlighters." Although the highlighters were enticing, I wasn't letting him off that easily.

"I wasn't..." but he sighed before adding, "can you do that? Like, would it do anything other than dye your nose pink?"

"Don't; don't try to get out of this with a casual joke and puppy dog eyes."

"Sorry." His eyes dipped at the apology. "So, you think I have puppy dog eyes?"

"Ugh, you're impossible," I complained as I charged out of my closet, letting my shoulder bump him. I meant it to be tough, but his thick stature barely reacted.

"Impossible with puppy dog eyes," he corrected with a tease in his voice.

"Give me the highlighters," I demanded. "And the cookie. I'm not sharing either."

"I deserve that," he agreed.

I sprawled on the floor and spread out my capstone binder. "Okay, so we're supposed to be a sounding board for each other's ideas."

"Mmhmm, I'm your sounding board; got it. I'm excellent at being bored."

I shot him the exact look I had shot Chris for the same lousy pun. Did all boys have terrible jokes?

"Does not like puns, got it," he mumbled to himself as he settled onto the floor across from me. "Hey, who makes those brownies for the bake sale?"

"Sophie Kim."

"Sophie Kim, does she talk? I mean, she must, right? I've just never heard her talk."

"Of course she talks. She's super cool if you take the time to get to know her."

Cale slightly nodded, noting my criticism rather than taking any offense to it. He listened to me babble about wanting to help the aging population in the community. I felt they were often underserved, so something that would help them, and bring them into the community, seemed like the perfect goal for the project. Cale listened, offering a few ideas I didn't let sink in, but he didn't seem frustrated.

"Hey, what did you mean by thought diversity?" He asked as he broke off a piece of my cookie.

He had been helpful, so I didn't scold him for taking some; it was an edge piece I rarely ate. "It's the idea that you'll come with a unique perspective because you've had different experiences."

He gave a slight nod as he pondered the idea.

"We haven't talked about your capstone. What ideas do you have?" I absently asked as I jotted down a few fundraising ideas.

"I've been thinking about it a lot," he began.

"Really?" My tone was more shocked than it should've been.

"Yes, really," he jokingly added back. "I have this partner that incessantly talks about it."

"I don't incessantly talk about it," I argued.

"It's legit the only thing I know about you. You're obsessed with the capstone, highlighters, and organization. You also appear only to drink lukewarm tea, and then you pound it. Oh, and you only like the inside part of cookies. But the only thing you have talked about is the capstone."

I was taken aback by how much he had noticed from just today; he had been paying attention to me. "You noticed all that."

"Yeah." He gave a cheeky smile. "Mental notes for the next time you get mad at me. And we both know there will be a next time."

"If you take all these mental notes, why do you still call me Delly?" I griped.

He smiled, almost to himself. "Do you ever think that you take yourself too seriously?"

"No, and it's rude to call me a sandwich shop."

"I love sandwiches. At least your name doesn't sound like the world's worst leafy green." He shrugged.

"Do people make fun of you for that?"

"When we were kids a bit." He shrugged again. "I never really cared."

"Your full name is Caleb, right? You could use that?"

"Nah, I like Cale. Caleb sounds all formal. Besides, I like kale," he added. "So, back to your fundraising ideas," he redirected.

He left an hour later, and I felt better about my capstone and having Cale as my partner.