Teenage Fever // Jude Bellingham

40

Monday, 20th of April

My eyes shot open at the sound of the classroom door being slammed shut, my body jolting as I tried to regain my consciousness. I heard Emma yawn next to me.

To say that I was tired, was an understatement. Due to yesterdays unexpected confrontation I didn't get a lot of sleep.

My teacher started the lesson, but my mind was still too occupied with itself to follow it. Pictures of yesterday flooded it — the usual overthinking.

"You sure you wanna go? You, uh, don't have to, you know—" I ranted, nervously fiddling with the loose pieces of skin at my nail beds, which were already pretty fucked up by now. They were partly bloody, and most of them definitely weren't pretty to look at.

I was more anxious about this than I thought I would be. It's not me I was worried about, but Jude.

My parents are way too overprotective ever since my last relationship went so wrong in so many ways. Hence, the worries; would they accept him? Would they believe me if I said I loved him?

The hand that was repeatedly damaging the other got pulled out of my lap, and instead was settled onto the middle console of the Porsche where Jude gently forced it apart to intertwine it with his own hand.

"Stop doing that..." he trailed, thumb grazing across the back of my hand to distract me from my own thoughts. "Do you want me to go?"

I nodded; there was no way around it now. I seriously had to stop being a pussy and running away from my problems.

"Tiana?"

I looked up from the table, where I had been busy with drawing random circles onto my paper.

My gaze shifted to Emma, but Emma nodded her head at someone in front of us.

My heart practically sunk to my stomach when I made eye contact with the person who had been trying to gain my attention. I hadn't even noticed him coming in here, let alone that he was sitting at the table in front of ours?

I ignored him, and returned to my circles.

"Tiana." He hissed again. No response.

It was when he threw a crumpled up piece of paper at me after another silence that I glared at him.

He furrowed his brows at my annoyed expression, but didn't falter in his confidence when he started to whisper to me.

"I'm sorry about Saturday. I was drunk."

"That's not an excuse, Kelce." I snapped, maybe a little too loud because our teacher eyed us a little warningly.

He sighed. "Look, I know that was inappropriate..."

I almost had to laugh at his wording. It wasn't inappropriate it was assault. But I didn't expect him to know the difference.

"Then why'd you do it?"

"I thought you and him weren't for real!" He stupidly defended — again, a little too loud because this time our teacher glared at us. Kelce turned around in his seat so he was facing the chalkboard again. One more time and we'd get thrown out, for sure.

I still couldn't fight the scoff that left my mouth.

It seems that either people don't take my relationship seriously at all or they take it too seriously, and care too much.

"Coffee?" My mom asked into the round, which consisted out of my dad, her, Jude and me sat around our dinner table.

Yes, it was as awkward and tense as it sounded.