Picture of Logan on the side, enjoy! :)
________________________"Watch it!" I growled, glaring daggers at the sophomore that had slammed into me, causing my books to fly from my hands. My backpack is too small to carry all of the useless textbooks that the school forces us to use. Therefore, I carry the heaviest books in my backpack and the lightest books, binders and such, in my arms. But, since clumsy idiots decide to not pay attention to where they're stumbling around, my books are usually thrown onto the floor when they slam into me.
I pity the unlucky soul that slams into me when I'm having a bad day. I'm pretty sure that somehow their head will end up on a stick. Violent, I know.
Luckily for twinkle toes, I'm actually having an okay morning. Since my concussion has healed, I'm unfortunately able to return to school after a week of rest and large amounts of makeup homework. Unfortunately, I still have my cast and will have to wear for the next three weeks.
Twinkle toes simply shrugged at me, as if not understanding why I was angry.
Ignoramus.
I rolled my eyes at him and attempted to avoid all the feet that were strolling around my fallen books. I let out a long, tired sigh and crouched down to the hallway floor.
No, it's fine fellow classmates, I don't need help.
I'm definitely going to be late for class.
"Need help?" a deep, attractive voice asked.
My gaze fell on his tan Sperrys, traveled upwards towards his khaki shorts and white t-shirt with gray stripes that ran across the abdomen area, and finally settled on his gorgeous face. A friendly smile planted on his face, his eyes looked into mine, humor interwoven inside them.
Logan.
"Yeah," I answered, sending him a lopsided grin. I began picking up the various pens and pencils that had spilled from my lavender pencil bag.
He began gathering my books in his muscular arms, which I couldn't help but stare at, and would occasionally hand me a stray pen.
"Thanks," I said, brushing back a piece of my brown hair that had escaped my french braid. I slightly adjusted my white off the shoulder top and twisted my arrow-shaped ring on my right ring finger around my skinny finger.
"No problem," he answered. "No, no, no. I'll carry your books," he insisted, yanking the books away from my outstretched hands.
"Oh, thanks, I guess."
"Your welcome. Who was that who knocked the books from your hands?"
"I'm not sure, but I know it was a sophomore. He had dark brown hair, and was about this tall," I informed, motioning to his height with my hands.
"Oh, that's Alex. He's on the football team. I'll make sure to beat him to a pulp later at practice today," he informed, sending me a playful wink.
I laughed and joked, "Will there be popcorn?"
He laughed and shook his head. He motion towards the direction of my English class and asked, "Shall we go? You don't want to be late."
"Sure, I guess- wait, how do you know what class I have?"
Is he stalking me?
"We have English together, Mia."
"Oh, right."
Well this is awkward.
"I'm offended," he said with mock sadness and hurt.
"Stop it," I laughed, lightly hitting his muscled arm, "I sit in the front of the class, I have no idea who's in my class."
YOU ARE READING
The Rider
Teen FictionAll Amelia wants is to complete high school, get a scholarship to University of Kentucky, and compete in the Grand Prix. What she expected to be a smooth ride out of high school and into competing in the Grand Prix turned into something comp...