I sat in the library. I am alone and just got back from the doctor. He is there sitting on the other table with his football friends.
And it's not like I matter to him that much. He's a friend of a friend, and we're not that close. I may have a little crush on him, though.
As I continued to look at him, our eyes met. My eyes widened, and I quickly looked away. On my peripheral vision, he smiled and shook his head, amused.
Free period ended, and I continued to sit here. I don't have any mood to attend classes today—not after learning that from the doctor.
I sighed as people left the library. I saw him stand up too about to leave, but he changed his path. He was coming to me. He's coming here.
I straightened my back and prepared myself. I bit my lip. I don't even know what to say to him. Why is he coming here?
And then he walked past me. I slumped and pouted. What was I even thinking? As I said, I don't matter to him. He just returned a book on a shelf behind me.
I rested my head on my arms and laid my head down on the table. I think I'm just going to sleep here. It's not like the librarian minds—her rules: You can sleep, study, and research. Just don't make noise and eat.
An hour passed, and I finally woke up. It's finally the sixth period—my last one for today. I slept through fifth period. Senior year is nice.
I got up, stretched my body, and gathered my things. I walked out of the library and went to my last class. People were filling in the room, and I, too, looked for a seat.
I sat down on a chair in the second row. Seconds later, someone sat beside me. "Hey there, Alexa Greenfield. I wonder where you were during History."
I looked up and in surprise, it was him. Allen Scott-Young. "Hi. I also wonder what you were doing in the library." My heart skipped a bit.
Allen chuckled. "Mrs. Teresa got mad and sent me and my teammates to research about Lost in Translation and write a reaction paper about it. English sucks."
"It does not. It's just you."
"Alright, Ms. Jane Austen." He said. "I caught you looking at me earlier."
I blushed and hid my face. "I wasn't. If I were, maybe I was looking at something behind you or your friend."
"You don't even know the names of my friends in the football team." He laughed. I know. I really don't and I am not planning to.
I narrowed my eyes at him. "I do. You just don't know I do."
"Alright." He said with an amused tone. "Name one."
" . . . Jasper."
"Is that a question or a statement?" He cackled like a dying horse. Though I love that sound. I like him.
I rolled my eyes. "It was a statement."
"Nice try, bubble head. There is no Jasper in the team." He told me, smiling. His eyes are so mesmerizing. "Pictures last, you know. You better take one."
I smacked out of my trance and glared at him. "As if, Allen Scott-Young. You're not that even attractive." A lie, obviously. I'd die for him.
He chuckled and shook his head. "Alright. You said that."
Class ended. Everybody left except for me . . . and Allen. What is he still doing here? "What are you still doing here? Class ended."
"Same goes with you. What are you still doing here?"
"Duh. Arranging my stuff." I breathed out, suddenly feeling tired. I held onto the chair and took a deep breath.
Allen moved fast and went to my side. "Hey. Are you okay?"
I nodded my head. "Yeah. I'm fine."
"Geez. You scared me there for a moment." He chuckled nervously. I can't take it anymore. I can't keep it forever. I need to let it out.
"Alright, Allen Scott-Young. I am dying. I only have three to four years left to live. My doctor advised me to make most of the time left, and so, I'll be doing this." I breathed out. "I like you, so, date me and make my remaining time happy and memorable."
