Best I Never Had

B est I Never Had Copyright © 2023 by Jeannie Choe All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Names, character, place, incident, brands, and/or media are the product of the author’s imagination and/or are fictitiously used. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or locales is entirely coincidental. Cover design by Sarah at Okay Creations Editing by Katie Wolf Note to the Reader This book contains themes and subject matter that some may find triggering. For more information, please visit www.jeanniechoeauthor.com for a list of content warnings prior to reading. Furthermore, triggers are not listed here to avoid spoilers in consideration for those that would like such information to be left out. To anyone who has ever been told they’re “too much.” Take your too much and change the world. And to my girls.For New York City, late-night karaoke sessions, and endless boba runs. Contents 1. Natalia 2. Hayden 3. Natalia 4. Hayden 5. Natalia 6. Hayden 7. Natalia 8. Hayden 9. Hayden 10. Natalia 11. Natalia 12. Natalia 13. Hayden 14. Hayden 15. Natalia 16. Hayden 17. Hayden 18. Natalia 19. Hayden 20. Natalia 21. Hayden 22. Natalia 23. Hayden 24. Hayden 25. Natalia 26. Hayden 27. Hayden 28. Natalia 29. Hayden 30. Hayden 31. Natalia 32. Hayden 33. Natalia 34. Hayden 35. Hayden 36. Natalia 37. Hayden 38. Natalia 39. Natalia 40. Natalia 41. Hayden 42. Natalia 43. Hayden 44. Natalia 45. Hayden 46. Hayden 47. Epilogue Acknowledgements About the Author one Natalia THEN– SENIOR YEARI fidget in my seat as the hard stool underneath me grows uncomfortable. The classroom, decorated with various atomic models and a poster of a sad animated cell holding a phone with the words “no cell-phones” in block letters, starts to slowly fill with students. One by one, they take their spots as our teacher, Mr. Khan, points to the assigned places on his seating chart.“Okay, class. You’re going to grab your microscopes from the cabinets. The slides for the cells are sitting on each of your tables for you and your assigned lab partners.” Mr. Khan’s voice rings through the classroom now that everyone has settled into their seats. I notice Hayden Marshall to my right eyeing the slides sitting between us as we play a silent game of who’s-going-to-get-our-microscope before I start to stand.“I’ll get it.” His low voice rings calmly.I tilt my head up, meeting his eyes while making sure to smile, not wanting to come off as rude or unfriendly. His eyes, light with the tie-dye effect of olive and copper, look down at me as the wavy locks of his hair curl along his forehead and earlobes. His hands are tucked into the kangaroo pockets of his black hoodie, slightly faded, showing its comfort and use, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. I swivel back onto my rusty stool, turning to face the black surface of our lab table.Why did I decide to take AP Bio? A class that I have no use for, will probably pass with a mediocre B, and will cause me unnecessary stress the entirety of my senior year. And now, I’ve been officially assigned Hayden as my lab partner.Hayden Marshall. The jock whose interest in science shouldn’t have extended beyond learning which starch source was most efficient in fermenting beer or exactly what about the female anatomy attracts their sexual counterparts. Yet here he was, ready to differentiate squamous cells and basal cells.I watch from my periphery as Hayden stalks back with one hand gripping the arm of the microscope and the other supporting the base. He slides the microscope across the counter, the rounded tip of his thumb brushing against the tabletop, before unraveling the thick cord and plugging it in.“I’m Hayden, by the way,” he offers, his voice cool and collected as he steps half a step back, enough room for me to fill the space he was occupying in front of the microscope. Almost as if his plan is to follow my lead, his unfamiliarity in a lab setting showing through the cautious hesitance in his body language.I don’t offer my name. Instead, I nod as I flick on the light source and position the first of our slides over the mechanical stage.“You’re Natalia?”“Nat,” I answer too quickly, pulling away from the eyepiece long enough to correct him.“Nat,” he repeats.Considering we’ve been going to the same schools since we were in eighth grade, it’s unbelievable that this is the first real interaction we’ve ever had. Maybe it’s the fact that our social circles run differently or that it’s obvious even to us that we would get along as well as oil and water. But the reasoning behind why we’re lab partners isn’t some cosmic alignment or a sudden realization that we’ll make the best of friends. It’s simply the most original order of sequence known to mankind: the alphabet. When our last names come right after the other, Marquez and Marshall, it was only a matter of time before we were brought together in a way that wasn’t our yearbook pictures sitting side by side.I flick my pencil against the eyepiece, a hollow clink-clink filling the awkward silence between us. “That’s simple squamous.”He steps in front of the microscope. His tan arm brushes against my shoulder as I lean away. I start filling out the worksheet that was passed around at the start of class while I wait for his observation of the slide. He nods as he pulls away and removes the slide for the next one with a scowl on his face that lingers between frustration and determination.The rest of the class continues. I correct Hayden when he mistakenly identifies a pseudostratified columnar epithelium as a simple columnar, something Mr. Khan warned us of. He asks multiple times where in our text these