Oliver's POV

Axel's room was exactly what I expected it'd be.

There was the generic blue and white theme going on, the centerpiece being the massive bed — it was made, so I knew they definitely had some help cleaning up, because I couldn't imagine Axel tidying up after himself like that. 

Hell, even I didn't make my own bed.

The desk had notebooks and pens scattered about, and didn't look very used. 

I wasn't surprised. Axel wasn't known for what was inside his head — just its exterior. 

The hamper was overflowing with clothes, and I was kinda scared of the corner of dirty football wear. That had to smell awful.

I appreciated all the tasteful artwork Axel had hanging up. Aside from a wall of athletic medals, he had some absurdly delightful, crude posters of unclothed women posing on cars. 

What a friendly sight, I thought dryly. So inviting.

I took a final look around. The TV across the bed, the tissues overflowing in the blue trashcan. Every aspect of his room screamed 'rich teenage boy'.

"Neat room," I said. "How often do you get it cleaned?"

"Huh?" Axel browsed idly on his phone, reclined on his bed. "When my mom nags my dad to make me, I guess." I cocked my head. So Axel did clean his own room? I was mildly surprised.

"I thought you had people to do that?" I questioned. In a house this large, there was no way they didn't have hired help to do that kind of thing. I'd lived as stay-in-help before, back when mother was a live-in doctor a few cities ago.

"What? No, they're not maids," Axel frowned. "They just live here."

"...Right." I acquiesced. But I didn't get it. Who was this 'they'? Everyone else who lived here? Who did that even include? James and Jayy? Van? 

There were numerous things for me to overthink. I could tell there were red flags, but I didn't want to be silly. Axel was an idiot, not a criminal. The trivialities of eccentric people with too much money to blow wasn't an interest of mine. 

I took off my shoes, putting them by the door.

I could understand not taking his shoes off at the front door, with how large this place was. But how on earth did Axel just drag his dirty shoes across his bed? I wrinkled my nose thinking of all the germs that must be on there. 

That was a filthy habit. He probably had diseases. I despised that.

The floor was heated under my toes. It felt good, so I sat down near the edge of his bed, spreading my legs to absorb more of the heat of the warm floor, and took my textbooks out of my bag, placing them on the floor around me.

"...What are you doing?" Axel asked. He was staring, neck craned to watch me.

"Did you forget why I came here?" I asked lightly, reminding him that we weren't friends. 

I wasn't here to prance around his house and talk about my volunteering commitments or my grades with his parents. 

I was here to get out of here as soon as possible.

"No, not that," he said, frustration leaking into his tone. "What are you doing on the floor?"

"What are your shoes doing on the bed?" I retorted, unable to hide my disgust. "Do you enjoy sleeping with germs and dirt from every dirty ground surface you tread upon?"

Axel was quiet. I huffed a laugh, playing it off. Dirty weirdo. Clearing my head, I got to work on designing the experiment we would have to perform.

I wasn't normally this studious. My typical routine after a grueling day of wasting time at school included wasting time at home, and sleeping. 

It was rare that I got homework done before the last minute possible, but a group project was different.

I could be as irresponsible and selfish as I liked with myself. But it was troublesome when other people got involved.

I needed them to not think badly of me. 

Not that Axel's opinion of me mattered, but Van hung around Axel, and a complaint from Axel would definitely reach others like him.

And that would be troublesome. 

My charade of being a nice person would hurt no one so long as I saw it through to the end. Perhaps being fake and manipulative was being worse than being an awful, yet honest person. Perhaps I was worse than Axel in that regard. 

But perhaps I didn't care.

When I got tired, a while later, I looked up at Axel.

Axel was sitting on the bed. His shoes were off, placed next to mine by the door. And he'd changed his bedsheets and cover. I stared.

Had he actually listened to me? 

No, he probably also realized it was a dirty thing to do, I pondered. 

The probability that he genuinely care about my opinion was insanely low. If anything, he was superficially trying to please me.

I pushed away my curiosity as to why he would even bother to do that, and stared at Axel for a moment longer. He had his cellphone out over a textbook. 

I rolled my eyes. How did having a textbook open change anything? Did he think he'd learn everything through osmosis?

Sitting on the floor did wonders for my concentration, but unfortunately the same did not occur for my back. I stretched from side to side, wincing when I heard a small crack. I fought the urge to sprawl on the warm floor.

Feeling my neck prickle, I turned back around. Axel was staring at me.

His eyes were intense, almost glowing despite the light from the window coming in behind him. I frowned. What was up with him? I waved a hand from my spot on the floor, and he jumped out of his reverie, if you could call it that.

"You done?" I asked, gesturing to his untouched homework. He slammed the textbook shut without looking at it, standing up abruptly.

---

"Yeah, um," he scratched the back of his neck, looking the the side awkwardly. "Do you want to take a break?"

I tried to stifle a yawn. The floor was so comfortable. "Sure. Where's your washroom?" He pointed to the door at the other end of his room.

Like his room, his bathroom was surprisingly clean. I snickered at the thought of Axel scrubbing the toilet. I would pay to see that.

After relieving myself, I washed my face to wake myself up a bit. Axel's products were littered all around the vanity, and I couldn't help but be amused.

He was generally so self-smug that it was kind of relieving to see how many products he had. 

Shaving cream, aftershave, lotion, cleanser, exfoliator. 

Even Axel had four brands of hair gel, and he bought into all of the fad men self-care products advertised everywhere.

I was almost impressed by his collection of cologne, but less so by his deodorant pile. How could a person need that much deodorant?! 

Perhaps he wasn't as perfect as I assumed, I mused. I guess he was just an another insecure, spoilt, teen boy after all.

Axel had left the room when I returned from the washroom, and I laid down on the rug. It was soft, warm from the floor heating. The room was quiet, and I was already tired.

The door opening made me shoot up in alarm, startled out of my drowsiness. Axel froze in place at the door, and when I remembered I was at his place, what the hell was I doing getting all comfortable, I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes.

"Uh," Axel watched me curiously. "Do you want some pretzels?" He held up a bowl and two water bottles. He set them down on the bed by me.

"That would be great, thanks," I mumbled, shoving some in my mouth. 

That was dangerous, I thought, feeling a bit unnerved. I couldn't relax here. This wasn't my home.

Axel watched me shove my mouth full. "Are you hungry?" he asked. "Dinner will be ready soon."

"I'm fine, thanks," I responded on auto-pilot. 

"...Do you want to sit up here?" Axel asked. 

I agreed, hoping it would wake me up. There was no way I'd feel relaxed sitting on Axel's bed, close to him.

Axel's eyes widened, but he scooted over eagerly, smashing himself against the wall. 

I almost wanted to laugh. At least he was giving me space.

I brought my laptop and assumed the browsing position. "I'm writing things out on Google docs," I informed him. "What's your email?" If I could get Axel to start on his part that'd be enough progress for today.

As Axel got his laptop set up, I explained what I had done in detail, taking a rare good suggestion from him and changing the formatting. Surprisingly, Axel got to work properly, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"Hey," Axel spoke up. "Isn't the acid in this going to change the colour of this before we can get started?"

I frowned. "I... don't think so?" Chemistry wasn't my strong point. "It shouldn't, probably?"

Axel grabbed his phone. "I'll ask Van." I blinked. 

"Van?" 

"He lives a floor under," Axel said. "Probably working on homework right now, too. Might as well call him over if we have a question."

"Right," I reluctantly agreed. I looked down at the homework blankly, suppressing a frown. Why did Van have to come?