𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎

chapter eight

Whether it was in his best interest or it was the last thing he wanted, Connor Bell once again found himself in front of the Food Technology classroom, waiting for the teacher to wave him in.

The windows and desks flared forth images of the distracted, brown-haired boy conversing with the curly, dark-haired one. Any student at the school knew that the one with dark hair rarely spoke. But when he did, there was a meaning behind every word.

And that was what left Connor dazed, still wondering after several days how they had been interacting almost as close friends in the previous lesson. What was the meaning behind the jokes and the slick remarks?

Even more consumingly, the mystery of Jamie's hand on Connor's cheek presented a labyrinth of questions that he had failed to answer outside of Food Technology lessons.

Maybe, Connor had thought to himself, the best way to find out is just to keep talking to him.

He didn't have the slightest clue what would happen, but any outcome would be better than the questions and wonder and misery that pounded inside his head.

Ms. Stewart emerged from the darkness. "Come in, everyone."

They shuffled to their usual seats. Connor noticed that the familiar black nest of hair was unusually on-time, trailing at the back of the crowd filing into the classroom.

He took a deep breath in and then out.

"Hi Ms. Stewart," Lily said. "How are you?"

"Hi Lily," the teacher responded, not answering her student's question.

Lily pulled away from the conversation and sat down next to Connor, her movement animated yet decisive.

"I don't think she's feeling it today."

"Today? Just today?"

Connor eyed Jamie as he slowly strolled into the classroom, toying with his phone. He realised that Jamie always had something in his hands, whether it was his phone or a utensil or a washcloth in the kitchen.

Maybe it was odd that he was paying attention to his hands so often. Though, he knew that his subconscious was well aware of their robust nature. They were not overly thick, yet were distinctly built for work, contrasting heavily with Connor's slim hands.

Connor shunned a stray thought that crossed his mind momentarily.

He turned to his other side and saw that Leilani and Valent were seated next to him, but had left a space between them and Connor. Valent was the closer of the two but was speaking with such passion in a conversation with Leilani that Connor might as well not have existed.

But it was not as if he cared about anyone else but Jamie.

The lesson was typical, involving bland worksheets that the majority of the class simply scribbled words with little sense onto.

Lily immediately bent her head down, and Connor followed suit. Occasionally, he looked over at Valent and Leilani laughing at anything that crossed their minds. More often, however, Connor looked at the figure moodily hunching over at the back of the classroom.

Perhaps twenty minutes passed. Connor was partially concentrating on the worksheet when suddenly the chair beside him was gripped by a toned arm and pulled out.

Connor flinched in his seat.

"You don't mind if I sit here, do you?" Jamie asked.

Connor had to shove out the words that were caught in his throat. "No..."

"Perfect." Jamie's cheeks filled as he flashed a grin. He sat resolutely in his chair, placing his bag under the table.

Doing anything except making eye contact, Connor felt as though his spirit had left his body. He no longer made any decisions that required critical thinking, unable to act out the planned conversations or movements that he had rehearsed in his bedroom.