Jared Cameron x Kim Connweller short fluff

wtf do i name this idk

I leaned backward in the wooden chair, stretching my arms over my head and yawning. Relaxing deeper into my chair and shutting my eyes, I vainly hoped to get just a few more minutes of sleep. 7:30 sharp and the bell rang, jolting me up out of my position. First period was often a struggle for me, because chilly December mornings like these, it was still dark out. Getting out of bed on any morning is usually difficult for a heavy sleeper like me, but today I had hardly a hope of making it to lunch without falling asleep once or twice. Also, as of recently, Jared had caught Mono, and hadn't been to school in nearly two weeks.
Mr. Bell, my English teacher seemed to be plagued with the same illness I had. The clock over the door on my right was ticking closer and closer to 7:35. Normally, he would have already started class by now, but he was snuggled deeply in his chair at the front of the class, sipping tea out of a "World's Best Teacher" mug. He looked even sleepier then I did. I tucked a lock of silky black hair behind my ear and turned my attention out of the window directly to my left. I watched as one of the streetlights lining the rows of houses flickered off, although the sky was still a deep black.
I heard a chair squeak and a bag hit the floor next to me, so I turned my gaze toward the sound. Jared was leaning over the other side of his desk, rummaging through his backpack. My heart fluttered for a split second. I suppose today Jared was feeling better. Not wanting to stare, I quickly took my notebook out of my own bag and started flipping through it, pretending to be looking for my notes from yesterday. I snuck a glance up at Jared from behind a curtain of my own hair. I realized he had taken off his hoodie and draped it over the back of his chair, and now was wearing only a black t-shirt with a band name on the front. I watched as he moved his left arm forward to unzip his pencil case, and I realized he had a circular tattoo on his upper arm. Was that there the whole time, or am I just especially unobservant?
But no, this is Jared. I would have noticed. I practically spend all my time sneaking glances at him in English. It's most of the reason that I'm failing. That, and my philosophy also happens to be "homework is for losers". I looked back down at my notebook and smiled and the margins of my notes from yesterday. "Kim Cameron" was printed pretty much in every available space that wasn't taken up my my writing. That pesky lock of hair fell back down into my eyes so I tucked it back behind my ear and realize for a moment that I could no longer hear Jared's pencil scratching. Without even thinking, I looked up back at him, and almost jumped out of my skin when I realized he was looking directly at me.
Somehow, Jared never looked at me directly. Sometimes he'd look through me, or would unconsciously lose focus while looking at me, but he'd never intentionally just looked at me. Jared's eyes were wide, and his gaze bored into mine. For a split second, he looked like a blind man seeing light for the first time, or something like that. His lips were slightly parted, almost like he was in awe. He didn't break eye contact when I looked up. In fact, it almost seemed like his dark brown eyes looked deeper when our eyes met. He just looked at me, almost looking through my eyes and into my soul. An eerie chill spilt down my spine, and Jared blinked a few times rapidly, but didn't look away.
"Alright, class, you've had enough time to settle. Now, if you'll remember out class yesterday, when we talked about thesis statements, I said you'd be writing your own today.." I barely even noticed that we were still in class, and I looked at Mr. Bell, who was now standing nonchalantly at the front of the class, mug in hand. I looked up at the clock and noticed it was only 7:41. It had seemed a lot longer, what with Jared downright staring at me. I absent mindedly wiped my mouth, thinking that perhaps the remnants of my bagel were still there. When I pulled back my sleeve, nothing. It had to be impossible that he actually was just looking at me for the sake of, y'know, looking at me.
I looked back at Jared, who has still burning a hole through my head, but now looked somewhat amused at my obvious expression, trying to figure out what he was looking at. I cursed my readable face. I never was one to hide my emotions. Everyone had always said that I was overly dramatic about everything and that my facial expressions spoke volumes, but I never had found it embarrassing before. Considering my personality, I should have probably approached Jared like, a year ago, but I had never felt that way about anyone before. Somehow, he made me nervous, and I was always the courageous one.
About halfway through class, it started to get weird. You would expect him to look away, even once, but he maintained his posture. His head slightly tilted, cheek resting on his knuckles, eyes carefully fixed onto mine. He didn't even do his work, which he usually finished within the first few minutes of class, and then spent the rest of it passing notes to his friends. Don't ask how I know this. The teacher tried to ask him a question, but Jared just ignored him.
"Mr. Cameron, I asked you a question. Do you know how many sentences are in a thesis statement?" nothing. not a single word. "Come on guys, we haven't even finished reviewing from yesterday," Mr. Bell complained.
The bell rang at 8:45 for period two, and I stood up, collecting my things. Jared practically appeared next to me and picked up my notebook.
"Here, let me help you," he beamed.
I flushed and smiled sheepishly, picking up my bag. Jared reached to slide the notebook in and added, "I'm Jared, by the way. I don't believe we've met."
"I know. I mean, I know you're name is Jared. I- yeah." I blurted. "I'm Kim, you know. Kim Connweller, that is."
"It's nice to meet you, Kim," He said. "Or, since we're in English class, it it a pleasure to make your acquaintance, miss Connweller," he finished with a hand flourish and a small bow.
He reached over and brushed a small piece of hair out of my eyes, making my knees go all shaky. he mumbled something that sounded like "can't believe I didn't see," and smiled at me again. I never realized how much taller he was than me, but now that he was this close, it seemed obvious. Don't get me wrong, I'm not short. I'm about 5'8 on a good day, but he could have easily been like, 10 inches taller than me. No, that can't be right. I could have sworn he was shorter then that. It looked like he grew five inches over the past two weeks.
Jared smiled sort of knowingly at my puzzled expression while I tried to justify this sudden change. Everything was so strange. Jared's shift in behaviour, the tattoo, his height. Now that I thought about it, he looked older, too. His jaw seemed just a bit more defined, he looked slightly more muscular. His hair even looked shorter too. No, I refused to let this ruin this perfect moment. It was probably all in my head anyway.
I let him walk me to class, and then to the next one, and lunch, and everything after that. Jared followed me around like a lost puppy, barely letting me out of his sight to use the bathroom. We talked, pretty much all day. When we weren't talking, or when we were doing work (or should I say I was doing work), Jared just watched me. Eventually, I worked up the courage to ask about his sudden change.
"I'll tell you, just not now. I need to ask Sam something first."
"Sam Uley?" I choked. Sam Uley was an older kid, like, 20 or something. He used to be friends with my older brother, but a year or two ago they had some sort of falling out. I don't really know what happened, but my brother told me as much as he knew, which essentially was just that "he'd changed".
"Yeah. He's not like what you think. I know what everyone says about him and how he's weird now and stuff, but I swear it's not like that. He's been helping me." Jared responded sincerely.
"Helping you how? Like with your mono?" I said, quirking an eyebrow at him. As far as I knew, Sam was no doctor.
He smirked, and glanced off to the side before looking at me again with that same sort of knowing look.
"Yeah, something like that. I promise, I will tell you. Just give me some time."
And with that, the topic was done.
When the day was over, Jared became anxious about letting me go home alone, almost insisting that he drive me. It was so strange how he acted about me, like he had to protect me. Eventually he agreed that I was perfectly capable of driving myself, on the condition that I call him the moment I stepped through the door.
I sat in the car for a long time. Some part of me was screaming that this was a prank or a joke and tomorrow it would be like nothing ever happened. Jared would show up without even a hi and I would sit alone again. Another part of me was begging for it to be true, for him to finally see me the way I saw him, after all this time. The way he looked at me, though. It wasn't like the way anybody's ever looked at me before. The closest thing I could ascribe it to was the protective look my mother would give me if I asked to stay at a friend's house. Sort of like he was responsible for me now, or something.
Finally, I started my car, and turned out of the parking lot and down the street of the peaceful neighbourhood that La Push High was situated in. The sun was high in the sky now, and the snow was glistening under its beams. Sunlight filtered through my windshield and onto my dash, making each speck of dust in the air visible. As I drove, I smiled to myself. It felt incredibly peaceful, like a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. For once, I actually felt appreciated.
My phone was buzzing even before I got home. Clearly, Jared couldn't wait that long. It didn't bother me. I liked him, and even more, I liked that he Like me. Today was a good day, I think.