A/N

Welcome back to another new chapter of No Sparks Required! I hope you've all been well!

As usual, the settings of these scenes, while loosely based on the original version, have also been completely rewritten to match the revamped plot. I hope you enjoy it and thank you so much for reading!

x Noelle

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F I V E

l a t t i c e

A regular repeated three-dimensional arrangement of atoms, ions, or molecules in a metal or other crystalline solid.

AS PER MY arrangement with Brendan, I have my study desk all tidied up by Saturday morning, with nothing but my Chemistry notes, some freshly-bought cupcakes, and a pot of very strong coffee (that would probably come to bite me in the ass later tonight). The only thing left for me to do is to get my parents out of the house before Brendan comes over.

Don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't love my parents. I do, dearly. It's just that they can be a bit...much. Dad's your average workaholic, but because of that, he tries desperately to not be the absent father when he doesn't have to go to work. A little too desperately, if I'm being entirely honest. Who's this boy? he'll say, if he ever met Brendan. How old are you? How did you two meet? What plans do you have for your future? And what are your intentions with my daughter?

It'd be a miracle if Brendan actually made it out of my house alive.

And don't even get me started on Mom. Her methods are totally different, but no less embarrassing. I suspect it's because she used to be a cheerleader back in high school, the one who dated the quarterback, the queen bee of the it crowd. Now that she's pushing fifty, she wants to be the fun mom, the cool mom. The mom who bakes (buys) the best cookies, drives around in a sports car with sunglasses and heels, and very enthusiastically taught her daughter all about safe sex (as soon as said daughter had her first period).

Yeah, okay, Mom and Dad have to leave. Pronto.

I square my shoulders resolutely and make my way downstairs. Dad still has his nose buried in the newspapers, while Mom's playing some game on her phone. She looks super engrossed in it, but I bet she's stuck at, like, level five or something. This is going to be tricky.

"...hi," I start, as morosely as I can.

Mom frowns at my face. "That is not a happy 'hi'. Poor darling, did something happen? Come sit and tell us. Do you want some cookies?" Dad doesn't look away from the newspaper, but he pulls out a chair and motions me to it.

I settle down with a sigh. "I'm okay. It's just that my friend Dani's parents are getting a divorce – " True. Not a lie. " – and she's pretty bummed about it – " Half-true. Okay, so Dani did see this coming from miles away. " – and she said it's probably because they haven't been out on dates for awhile." Total lie. Dani's parents haven't been out on dates because they've already been seeing other people for the past two years.

Am I a bad daughter for manipulating my parents out of the house because I'm bringing a boy over? ...but it's for my grades!

"Oh, that must be so difficult for your friend," Mom says with heartfelt sympathy. "And for you, too. I know a lot of kids your age have parents who are getting divorced. Even the Joneses next door are separating, aren't they?" she adds to Dad.

He nods and finally lowers his newspaper. "But you don't have to worry, honey. Your mother and I are very happy together."

Even though this was a total scheme, I'm still very relieved to hear that. "I'm glad," I say with a heartfelt smile. "I know you guys are okay, but it's nice to have some reassurance every now and then."

"I completely understand," Mom says, smiling back at me. "And it's only normal to worry about your parents, but you really don't have to. Just last night, your father and I went to this gala. I got a little drunk so he carried me, bridal style, back into the bedroom where we – "

"Not that kind of reassurance!" I shriek, clapping my hands over my ears.

"Okay, okay. Prude," she mutters under her breath, and Dad snorts in silent mirth.

I glare back at the two of them. Honestly, who's the kid here? "If you want to make it up to me, you two could go on a date right now and leave me alone to study."

"That's not a bad idea," Mom says, brightening up as she turns to Dad. "I do want to go to that art exhibition that my friend Sally is hosting!"

He smiles and sets his newspaper aside. "Of course, we'll go right after I pick my files up from the office." As Mom practically races out of the house, I have to bite back a triumphant grin. I'm already congratulating myself for my brilliant, brilliant scheme when Dad plants a hand on my shoulder. "I'm sure there's a reason you so desperately want us out of the house," he murmurs with a knowing glint in his eye. "I'll play along for now, but you can tell me when I get back."

My smile drops off my face. Damn it.

Still, that's at least half the battle won. With only five minutes to go, I'm waving them out of the driveway. At ten sharp, I settle on the couch to wait for Brendan. Fifteen minutes later, I turn on the TV. When it's half past ten and he still doesn't show up, I reach for my phone.

Where are you? Are you still coming? Want to reschedule? All my texts go unanswered, and I start to frown. Surely, surely, he isn't playing me? As soon as the thought creeps into my mind, I mentally smack myself. Just because he's late doesn't mean he's stood me up. It could be anything, really. Maybe he overslept, or maybe he got lost along the way, or maybe...

The doorbell rings.

"Brendan...?" My voice trails off as soon as I catch sight of him on the doorstep. There's a huge bruise the size of a fist along his jaw, and along with his dark circles and bloodshot eyes, he cuts a sorry sight. "What happened?"

Brendan offers me a sheepish smile. "Hey, Beverly. Sorry for being late."

"No, that's alright... Are you okay? How did this happen? Have you seen the doctor yet?"

"Um..."

"You've at least rubbed some medicine on that, haven't you?"

"Er..."

"Wait right here." I immediately go to fetch the first-aid kit and motion him to the couch. I settle opposite him on the coffee table and carefully apply medicine to his bruise. "You know, you didn't have to come if you were this badly injured. I wouldn't have minded, honestly."

"And stand you up? Not a chance in hell. What kind of shitty tutor would I be if I left you alone before the big test in two weeks?" he says lightly, before shrugging. "Anyway, don't worry about me. Some drunken dumbass punched me at Lisa Chen's party last night, but it wasn't anything I couldn't handle."

"That's horrible! Who was it?"

"...I couldn't tell, it was pretty dark and the crowd was loud." He gingerly feels around his bruise when I'm done, then grins up at me. "Thanks, Beverly, I owe you one. Sorry I came here in such a state, but I didn't want to keep you waiting."

"That's okay. And you don't owe me anything – in fact, I think I'm the one who owes you, because you're taking time out of your busy schedule to teach me."

"I told you, I really don't mind," he assures me as he climbs to his feet. "Shall we start?"

Over the next few hours, and in between plenty of cupcakes and coffee refills, Brendan and I cover the syllabus from the first half of this semester. Ionic bonds, covalent bonds, molecular structures... I want to say that I'm a complete pro at those topics when we're done, but honestly, I'm not entirely sure. I don't know if it's my inability to keep up, or if it's Brendan's tendency to regurgitate whatever's in the textbook, but I don't seem to be learning anything new.

Several times I attempt to speak up and tell him to slow down, but then I see the earnest look on his face and decide against it. It's no big deal, I tell myself over and over again. He's a classmate, not a teacher. I can't possibly expect him to teach me well. I'm already lucky enough that he agreed to this. I can always study on my own after this. It's fine.

It's not fine.

At the end of the session, I'm left more confused than ever. But I bade him a cheerful goodbye anyway, tell him to take care of himself, and shut the door with a resigned sigh. Maybe things will make more sense once I go through my notes again. I've just settled down at the dining table when the doorbell rings again.

"Hey, Brendan, did you forget something...?" I blink in surprise when I realise it's not who I thought it would be. "Oh, it's you."

Shane shoots me an unamused look. "Yes, it's me. Sorry to disappoint."

"What – what're you doing here?"

"It's Saturday," he says flatly, as he pushes past me into the house. "Your mom just texted mine, and apparently, there's a batch of cupcakes that you're supposed to bring over. Or did you actually forget because of your little rendezvous with Orland?"

Oh, crap. My eyes grow wide. I did completely forget about that. Then again, Mom didn't remind me either, but perhaps she was too excited about going to the art exhibition with Dad.

"So you did forget!" Shane's eyes narrow as soon as he notices my face. "Figures. Anyway, I'll be gone once I get the cakes, and you can go back to doodling hearts around Orland's name or what-fucking-ever you do. Where are they?"

Oh, double crap. "Um..."

"In the fridge?" he asks, as he heads towards the kitchen. "Or did you already finish them? That's fine, I'll just let my mom know. Granted, my sister will be a little disappointed since she's starved herself all morning waiting for the cupcakes, but she'll live – "

"Well, it wasn't me, per se..."

He stops dead in his tracks. "No."

"...he didn't know..."

Shane's face grows thunderous. "You let fucking Orland eat my food?"

"I– it wasn't intentional!" I say desperately, wringing my hands. "I forgot that the cakes were for you guys, so I left it out to be a good hostess! Brendan didn't have any breakfast before that, and I offered it to him. He eats well – all athletes do, and I didn't think much of it when he finished all the cupcakes..."

" – which were meant for me," Shane practically growls. I've never seen him look this upset before, which makes me feel even worse.

"I really am sorry. I'll buy another batch for your family, I promise."

"It's not about the damn cakes, it's about the principle."

"What principle?" I ask, utterly bewildered.

"That you don't give something that's meant for me to someone else, especially not to assholes like him!" he snaps, his harsh tone making me wince. But it's over in a flash and he turns on his heels to leave the kitchen. "Whatever, I'm out of here."

I frown. "Shane – "

"This is still wrong, by the way," he says, a brittle edge in his voice. I follow his gaze down to my notes spread out on the dining table. I don't know which one he's talking about, but before I can ask, he lets out a bitter, mirthless laugh and pushes past me. "I knew he wouldn't be able to teach you anything."

I sigh and call out to Shane again.

But the only answer I get is the front door firmly shutting behind him.

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As the weekend passes, I start to feel really bad about the whole thing. It kind of was my fault for giving away something that my mother had bought for Shane and his family, even though it was a total accident. On Sunday, I end up making a quick trip to the bakery to get a fresh batch of cupcakes, and delivering them personally to the Corellis.

It's not Shane who answers the door – it's his younger sister, Sierra. She looks really happy about the cakes, and I ignore the small pinch of disappointment when she tells me that Shane's busy. That's fine, I try to convince both myself and her. It's not like I came over to talk to him, anyway. As long as I've made up for my little mistake, that's good enough.

...right?

I settle down at my desk, looking through my Chemistry notes once again. I've gone through these several times over, and I still can't figure out which part's wrong. There's nothing more frustrating than knowing that you're wrong, but not knowing what is. A part of me wonders if Shane merely said that just to mess with me, but a bigger part of me knows that it's not like him to do that. Sure, he might get on my nerves, but he's actually quite serious when it comes to schoolwork.

Just then, my phone rings.

When I see his name flash across my screen, I almost jump out of my seat. How did he know that I was thinking about him?! "...Hello?"

"Still can't figure it out, huh?" There's a hint of amusement in Shane's voice.

"What?"

"Your Chemistry homework. You added an extra carbon when there isn't supposed to be one."

"What?" I repeat, sounding very much like a befuddled parrot. "Where?"

Shane lets out a small chuckle. "Look up."

I do just as he says, lifting my head to look out of the window.

Here's the thing: my house is not only across the road from Shane's, but my room is also directly across from his. It's been this way for as long as I can remember, since my family moved to Caverly when I was about seven. The Corellis, on the other hand, have lived here for much longer, probably from the time Shane's parents got married.

Although we live in two different neighbourhoods, we are only separated by a one-way street. And so, sometimes, when I happen to glance out of my window, I can see him doing his homework or practising some soccer tricks in his room. Once he even knocked over a lamp, and the ball ricocheted back onto his head. It was pretty funny. I usually try not to stare, and we often draw the curtains when we need our own privacy. But I can't deny that the soft glow emanating from his room feels comforting, especially when it's late at night, and it seems like we're the only two people awake in this empty street.

This time, however, I'm surprised to see the addition of a whiteboard right beside his study desk. It looks a lot like the one I saw in the bushes by his house the other day. Shane scribbles something on it, then swivels the board around so that it's facing the window. "Can you see it?"

"Not really. Can you push the whiteboard closer?"

"That's the farthest I can go, short of pushing it out of the window." He hums in thought, then twists his desk lamp to face the board. "Better?"

"Oh." I put the call on speaker so that I can make the correction. "It's so weird how I didn't catch that. Brendan even went over my work yesterday and neither of us noticed this."

"Of course he didn't. I'd be surprised if he noticed anything else..."

I frown in confusion. "What?"

"Nothing," Shane says quickly, before he clears his throat. "Anyway, don't worry about it. Adding an extra carbon atom is a fairly common mistake that I've seen our other classmates make. It's not a mistake that I would make, of course, but I can see why others do – "

"Of course, because Shane Thou Greatest can do absolutely no wrong..."

A short, awkward pause follows as I trail off. I'd only meant that in a joking manner to humour him, but I guess my words must've hit a little too close to home. 'Of course, because Shane Corelli can do no wrong. Shane Corelli never fucks up. Shane Corelli is one-hundred-percent perfect all the time, and if that's the Shane you want, then maybe you don't know him at all.'

'Maybe I don't.'

Even though he's across the road, I can still feel his eyes bore into me. I bite the inside of my cheek and look away, only to notice something that I hadn't before. "What's that on the board?" I blurt before I can stop myself.

"What?"

"OR. Is that part of our homework?"

"Oh, that." Shane follows my gaze to the corner of his whiteboard, before he shrugs. "No, it's not important. Anyway, I have to go. I forgot to lock up after practice today, so I have to get to school early tomorrow before Coach catches me. Call me if you need any help, okay?"

"Okay." I hesitate for a moment. "Hey, Shane?"

"Yeah?"

"...thanks. For helping me, or whatever," I mutter under my breath.

But he catches my words anyway, and one corner of his lips lift in a tiny smile. "You're welcome. Have a good night."

"You, too." I'm the first one to end the call, but he's the first one to close his drapes. The light from his room flickers off, and I look down at my newly-corrected Chemistry homework, tapping my pen against the edge of my laptop.

What the heck is an OR?