"And I'm literally still waiting," Amara slurps her jello cup with the same amount of sass she's staring at the side of my now heated face with.
Lord help me.
"For God's sake, what is up with the stares today," I huff and finally turn to face her. "Look, I know just about as much as you do. I can't explain what the hell that was either, alright?"
I'm sure the expression on my face, pleads with her to just drop the subject. I return to meandering over the chemistry notes for our last block of the day. I'm sure Mrs. Burston would be trying to slam us with a pop quiz. She always does when we get too comfortable. I'd gotten into the habit of looking over the notes each day during study hall, just to refresh my memory for when the occasion might arise. The only issue is that my best friend and I aren't only inseparable by choice, but by our class schedules, as well. Study hall had become nothing but a grill session that I busied myself with Calculus homework to avoid. And right now, I can hardly retain any information in this crowded lunchroom, nor passively ignore Amara practically nailing me to the lunch table with her expectant glares.
Tonguing the last bit of jello from the corner of the cup she smacks her lips together; narrowing her eyes. "You innocent-faced little liar. Have you forgotten, I can read you like a damn book?"
Exasperated, I close my binder, snapping my head in her direction.
"Oh my- Mara, I love you. But you don't know anything. Why? Cause one," I stand up from our corner lunch table to count the facts on my fingers for her, "You didn't see anything, since nothing really happened. Two, you didn't hear anything, cause we both heard the same thing, which is," I cup my ear with my hand leaning down toward her," that's right, nothing."
"Girl, give it up. I know what I saw," she dismissively waves her plastic spoon up at me. "And there is no way you can simplify all that as nothing."
Taking a deep breath, I wipe the frustration from my face. "And what is that, Amara. Please, do share with the class." My hand perched on my hip.
She shrugs in the midst of cracking open her second cup of jello. "I dunno, miss ma'am," she says around a mouthful. "That's what I'm waiting on you to tell me." She pulls the spoon from her mouth with a dramatic tongue pop.
"Cause if it was just nothing, as you so claim," she continues, "why are you in defense mode right now? I'm simply asking about your interaction with the guy, and you're literally about to pop a blood vessel."
"Because you're making it into something messy or extra. You know this kind of stuff makes me anxious, anyway," I sigh. I hate talking about stuff like this. I can't deny that whatever ensued between me and ole boy wasn't just nothing.
He made me antsy, like a live wire. Every time he looked at me with that particular intensity that made the hair on my neck stand on end, the visceral response from my body was akin to electric jolts. It's crazy, considering we've hardly even officially met or had a genuine conversation; but that only makes me really want to.
I want to know him, and that knowledge within itself is putting me on edge.
"How so? Besides," she stood up scooping more jello into her mouth and giving me a raised brow over the cup's rim. "If there's no mess, then why the stress?"
"Just hush, please," I rolled my eyes and sat back down to open the binder; burying my annoyed pout into my notes.
"Will you just tell me what's going on-"
The sharp pause in her tone caused me to look up in time to catch the sly smirk crawling onto her face. "Or," she says in a teasingly wicked tone, " I could ask him myself."
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YOU ARE READING
Live Wire
Roman d'amourVirgin. A word pregnant with preconceived notions as to why a woman acts the way she acts and chooses not to partake in what those around her find absolutely stimulating. Aniyah James never had any interest in understanding the silence that practi...