Faux » n.s [boyxboy]

c. 10

prepare urselves this is kiiinda long

Chapter Ten

I honked my horn, dialing Louis' number and pressing the ringing phone to my ear. We were going to be late for school and I was not having it. Especially since I was wearing my favorite trench coat and skinnies with my hair up in a man bun. It does sound weird, but you have to admit that it looked good on me. Come to think of it, I am probably trying to impress people. Or, just a someone. I don't know.

Insert [overly creepy smiley face].

With furrowed eyebrows, I searched the windows for a figure of some sort. I snorted, "That's right. You better be rushing down the last few steps or I'm leaving your ass." I honked again, hearing a screechy noise from my phone. "Alright, alright! God fucking dammit, you impatient little hound boner."

He rushed to the driver's seat of the car and tapped the window. With a "seriously?" look, I rolled the window down. "Not today. I'm not letting you drive with you getting us late and creatively insulting me, you pompous clown shart."

He grumbled a "fuck you" before glumly making his way to the passenger seat. He got in and slammed the door shut, crossing his arms like a ten year old whose mother refused to buy the Ben 10 watch they found in the toy store. I chuckled, "Seatbelt, Lou." He looked out the window and made a "hmmp" sound. I sighed. I woke up late and waited half an hour for Louis to get out of his apartment so there is no way I'm putting up with this.

"I'm going to make you sit in the back if you keep acting this way." He huffed in annoyance and hastily put his seatbelt on, getting frustrated over the fact he was tugging too hard and that the seatbelt kept locking. Once he got it right and looked out the window. I debated whether I should do something to make Louis cheerful again, but then I decided against it and drove.

He'll get over it.

I rushed into English 12 with only a minute to spare and I caught my breath. "Fuck..." I muttered, glad I beat the bell.

"Language, Mr. Styles!" Mrs. Thompson shrieked, her glasses covered eyes as wide as two baseball bats and the whole class laughed. I blushed beet red and mumbled an apology, scanning the whole room for an empty seat. Zayn waves at me and points to the seat next to him.

Thank god for Zayn.

"What's with your outfit?" He promptly asked as I sat down and I shrugged. "Nothing, it's just... a trench coat kind of day." He squinted at me through his thick black glasses in question.

"It's a hundred degrees outside."

I stared at him for a few seconds before just looking at my blank notepad.

"It's alright, I get it." I heard a smile in his voice and I huffed. "You're in love." If I blushed hard moments ago, I blushed even harder now. That was completely uncalled for, causing me to smack Zayn on the head. "You pickled possum, I'm not fudging in love! I don't even like anyone! Dear me, has this school gotten insane? What about the true education we once longed for? Or is it our parents who longed for it for us? I'm not sure, but-"

"Mr. Styles! I'll have to send you to the Principal's Office for disrupting my class so early in the morning!" Mrs. Thompson bellowed, her catlike pupils sent chills down my spine. I was speechless.

"B-But I didn't swear."

This very horrified yet true answer oddly sent the whole class in stitches. I've wanted to be a class clown, but this just wasn't the right time.

"Office. Now!"

And this was the end of my perfect grades.

Remember when I said thank god for Zayn? Well, fuck Zayn anyway.