I fiddle with tip of his umbrella, it smells of him; slightly vanilla like, but there's something else there, I can't tell what it is. I've never been good at identifying scents.
"Thomas, for the third time, put the umbrella down!" Janson orders me. Everyone turns to face me and the umbrella, and some people whisper at the back of the room. I don't care, I never have, and that won't change. I don't do things to please other people, and I don't mind that they don't like it; I don't wear a mask, I wear a shell. I guess that's how I've always been.
The thought of a game confuses me, is it uncoordinated, or will we decide on rules? Is there an aim? I need to find out, but our new relationship seems a bit too interesting for spoken communication. I need to find new ways to reach him, maybe I should ask for his number. No... that would be too predictable. I let my gaze wonder down to the umbrella, twisting the tough fabric round my finger, and an idea springs to mind. I tear out a page from my notebook and pull out a pen, now all I need is the message.
How will the game pan out?
Any rules?
-Thomas
that's not very poetic. oh well, i guess he'll have to deal how prosaic i am.
"sir?" janson lifts his head to look at me. "may i be excused from lesson?"
he raises an eyebrow, as if he knows better than me; which of course, isnt true. infact, he couldnt be more of an imbecile, his lessons - if you could even call them that - are just another reason why my life, and everyone else in this rooms, has become one long trip in a revolving door of boredom.
"Why?"
Ugh, come on. I don't have time for this. "I need to use the toilet."
"With... that?" He points at the umbrella in my hand.
I roll my eyes, "yes." I state and swiftly leave the classroom.
Trying to navigate my way between bodies in the hallway is near impossible, especially with all these year sevens around, pottering around, with no clue that there are people behind them trying to get to places. They're so small, I hope I don't accidentally trample one.
Anyway, I'm making my way through the blocked up corridor, when someone touches me. Not like the other strangers in the hallway, bumping into eachover as they walk at different speeds and directions, shoulders clashing and feet colliding as their internal clocks count down the seconds and calculating the pace they need to take. No this touch is intentional; a loose but firm grip on my...
Ass?
Shocked, I tense up, the hand leaves as quickly and unexpectedly as it came, and I bring my own hand up to find a piece of paper tucked into my back pocket. I sigh, thank God that wasn't some kind of random groping. I take the letter out and start to read.
Tommy,
Well you're straightforward, not exactly romantic, huh?
I want you to toy with my feelings, and I'll toy with yours.
I've figured out your soft spot, now it's your turn. I want you to get to me.
-newt
I fold the paper up and put it in my shirt pocket. Does he want me to be romantic? I guess that's what I want from him. Maybe we should be romantic together.
I take an unexpected left turn, out to the back of the school. I think I need some time to ponder.
YOU ARE READING
sex, drugs, and Isaac Newton (newtmas)
ФанфикNOT AS SMUTTY AS THE TITLE SUGGESTS stuck up and nerdy Thomas finds himself hanging out with unexpected people and falling for a boy named isaac or 'newt' as his friends call him.
