the him of hers

7

"Ms. Campbell!"

Am aggressive hand hits the table my head is laying on. Causing my body to jerk up from a bomb ass nap.

"This work will not do itself. Even Mr. Santos has finished his assignment."

It's the third day of school and I already feel so pressured.

From both my home life and my school life.

I didn't know if it was because it was senior year, but it felt like those first few days weren't resting days.

Fees. Studies. Work. Decisions. All of which I had no concern in.

The type of person I was, I loved to live in the moment. It made life easier.

"Yes ma'am, Miller." I rise my head and throw both of my elbows on the table.

"Sir, you mean. You don't seem very focused right now. I'm going to get Santos to help you finish this work."

His words hit my ears inaudibly with a little bit of sound.

Before this class I remember taking a break and sneaking out of the back door of the school.

That break turned into a smoke session with
– surprisingly – a few nerds at the back of the school.

3 fat joints in 30 minutes.

I don't know what shit was inside of that blunt. But it was definitely exclusive the way I felt so tired right now.

On top of that I still had a headache from the party I had been to the night before.

Sometimes I try to question the ridiculous decisions I make. Then I remember, I'm me.

"No sir I'm fine I can...I can make the cake," I managed to put on a non-suspicious determined tone. But as for the words... "No I mean I can do it."

Mr. Miller leans down beside me and looks over my paper. Which only had my name and probably the wrong date written on it.

"Santos. Please leave your peers and come help your neighbor here with her work. It is not a question."

De surprisingly moves away from his friends and walks over to the table. He nodded at the teacher and Miller walks away.

"Hm..." He hesitates for a minute while his eyes studies me over above.

I made a long hum sound back with a sigh.

I blink slowly and try to focus my eyes on this ass of a hole.

He was never quite ugly to me, now that I put my mind to the thought.

Every single detail on his face looked like they were made to perfection through my half blurry observation.

Those sharp features completing his face. His silky, deep tan skin with those fleshy parted lips. Then those lazy, unbothered gloomy eyes that...

"Fuck, Kambrea." I blurted out to myself.

"Right...fuck Kambrea."

"So fuck her."

He squats down in front of the table and rests his head on his hands while right in front of me.

"My dick isn't compatible with freaks. By the way, you missed out on getting the answers."

"Of course you didn't do the work yourself. You're a assdumb. No, no I meant dumbass-"

"K, just stop talking. Who gave you something? Who are they?" 

He spoke calm and low. His tone was always intimidating though, or it felt like he was making fun of you at the very back of his mind the way the words flowed out of his mouth. No matter how he sounded.

"I talk...whenever I want. When I want. You're not fooling me." I swing my index finger in front of his pleasant face. "Just leave her alone. Leave me alone." I level my head down to his and look into his eyes for once. Not knowing why. My lids felt drowsy, heavy. Like my eyes were rocks.  But it felt like his eyes were in control, making mines stay open somehow.

I sneer at myself and let anything make its way out. "In your eyessss. I see there's something burning inside you. Oh inside you. In your fucking eyes..."

I swear I sound like Abel right now.

"Get up." He scoffs angrily and walks around the table to arrive next to me.

De takes my arm and pulls me out of my resting place.

One of the guys he was talking to earlier walks over to us and a smirk is all over his sneaky looking face.

When he arrives over, De quickly removes his hand from my body.

The only thing that was really helping me keep my balance completely stable right now.

"The party next Friday..." His questioning voice fades out in my ears.

I fall in the middle of the aisle in class and everyone turns their attention to me.

I see bitches whispering. Guys tapping the shoulders of their friends.

Right when they all divide their attention from me, the bell rings.

I close my eyes. Imagining this cold classroom floor as my bed at home.

When I open them again it's empty. Well, not completely.

I sense a presence above me and move my eyes forward.

To where I spot Nike shoes. With not one hint of dirt on them.

The legs bend down and I see a familiar book in this person's hands. Open.

It's my journal I carry around for when I feel anxiety rushing through me. I write every bit of nonsense inside of it.

My body reverberates as I lift it off of the ground. It feels less heavier than before, though.

"De..." I say his name in a moan, very unintentionally.

His jaws clench, eyes lower. "You really look like shit. Unfortunately, I gotta take you home."

"No, but thanks. I can walk I'm...what time is it?"

He pulls out his phone that is flooded with notifications. "5:30."

"What have you been doing this whole time."

"Waiting for the garbage to wake up. So I could take out the fucking trash."

Every term, every word, every sentence he considered saying to me or using on me, were all stabbing small pains into my mind. Since the first time.

Each time I'd be able to grasp them and throw them behind me. Making them seem like they weren't a burden. As if they were nothing.

But they always were.

Usually people's words had no affect on me.

His, however, made their ways through.

"There's a party of yours in two week."

Instead of replying back to his sarcastic remark with more sarcasm, i recapped on the last few words I heard before I went unconscious.

"Who-"

"A self invitation. Now leave me be, and go sell fucking...little drugs. Or crack those knuckles of yours. You're most favored hobbies." Even though I felt better, my voice sounded like shit. It still had a slur.

I snatched my journal out of his hand and grabbed my backpack off of the floor with the same force.

Not looking his way the whole time.

Then, I made my way out of this classroom.