please don't tell me lies { Jill x Jim }

Jill has been so far up my goddamn ass lately. She's convinced - convinced that Michael and I are a thing. She asks me every other week, thinking I'm keeping some massive secret from her. I love my sister, really. We're like, the best duo in District Six, and we didn't even need to win the Games to get that title. But it's hard to talk to people about Michael.

We're not a thing. Let's make that clear. Michael is just like a pet dog. Or a pet lizard, really, with how I treat him. I give him food when he needs it and provide him warmth and shelter while he offers me the satisfaction of good grades. It's an equal transaction. We sit in the library, where white pillars hold up a glass dome, offering natural sunlight over the fluorescent hum of hospital wings. The library is where we normally meet to work on assignments (or, at least, when I handle them by myself). The air reeks of academia and holds a wavering charge from all of the adderall that fills the veins of those studying. It used to be a scent of coffee, but too many coffee-stained pages caused a ban on the substance. Now, they rely on drugs.

People like Michael need it to sit down and focus. They get all laser-focused, furrowing their eyebrows and tapping their pencils when they hit a roadblock in their workflow. Sometimes they thump their foot, trying to get their bodies moving, hoping that the movement helps their brain move. He takes much longer to finish his work, but I don't mind. I stay and wait anyway, watching his frustration like it's the cut- funniest thing in the world. We take one of the study rooms in the back - that way, we can both work, and I can talk his ear off as I do to anyone. I'm the charm in this dynamic. I keep him entertained, awake, and active rather than drifting off into a constant state of monotonous work.

I don't know if he actually needs it, but he never complains, which is nice. Maybe that's why I haven't moved on from using him for academic advancement. Before Michael arrived at the academy, I easily shifted through homework agents. Nobody did it as well as Michael did, and maybe I do like looking at him, so what? Michael's just... nice, that's all.

Jill rips open the bedroom door, tearing the book out of my hand, seeming to show a purpose. "J, what the-" I shout up, watching as she slams the book closed and tosses it across the bed. This better be some deep drama shit. "When did it become okay to stop telling me things?" Her hands are placed at her hips, and lord, why is she on this shit again?

"What do you mean, J?" I throw my hands up in the air. She tells me about her period before anyone else and she suddenly expects me to give her a play-by-play update on my life. "What am I not telling you?" It's annoying as hell - I tell her every single day that Michael and I aren't a thing. Michael's not even into me. He does my homework because I give him money and entertainment while he does it. There's nothing else.

"If this is about Michael, I've already told you, it's not a thing!" The book landed face-down, but she wouldn't believe me if she saw it. It just happens to be a book on tennis, the one thing Michael does in life outside of my homework. He's tried inviting me out to play with him, but I've got no idea how to play, so I have to go into it not looking super dumb.

I don't have a thing for him, though. He's just my newest friend after Jill. I can't let him show me up, right? Friends compete.