Valerie

15 - Val

Thomas Verner was in my apartment. Again. And not only was he in my apartment, he was sitting next to me. Again. This time, his face was mere inches away from mine and neither of us was pulling away.

This was insanity, madness and yet I couldn't help imagining what his lips would feel like on mine.

WHAT.

That snapped me out of whatever daze had snatched my mind.m

I blinked, once, twice just as Thomas' eyes had moved to my lips.

I cleared my throat and turned away.

"We should um..." I trailed off, indicating to the copy of 1984.

"Or we could not?" Thomas said, his voice deeper, deeper than before, if that was humanly impossible.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

He looked like he was about to say something, something that had definitely been playing in his mind but he decided on, "I don't really want to study."

I frowned. This was the Thomas I knew. The infuriating Thomas. The Thomas that wasn't staring at my like he was going to do something completely crazy. Like kiss me.

"That's not what you pay me for." I pointed out, a hint of frustration creeping into my tone which he just smiled at.

"True." He pretended to think it over. "But I don't care. I don't want to study."

"No one wants to study." I said, exasperated.

"Also true." He smirked at me increasing annoyance.

"Well, if you don't, you won't get your degree and not that my opinion matters all that much to you, I'll think that you're a failure."

He frowned, as if something I had said offended him. "Your opinion matters to me." He said quietly. "A lot." He added.

"Right." I just rolled my eyes.

I grabbed 1984 and pushed it over to him. He ignored it. "I hear you and Mable are coming to the hockey game in a couple of weeks."

I sighed. We really needed to start doing what he was paying $2000 for. I said just as much but he ignored me, instead saying, "So, are you?"

Another sigh. "Yes, we are. Marcus invited Mable and she said that I have to go too." I paused. "I'm still deciding if I'm actually going to go, though." Thomas frowned. "I don't know the first thing about hockey. My family was always a football family." I shrugged.

Thomas nodded. "My brother played football in high school. He was the quarterback."

"Oh no, soccer. My family's into soccer." I couldn't believe I was talking about football with Thomas right now. I couldn't believe I was talking about my family.

"My sister played soccer." Thomas smiled but it looked strained, like talking about this was a struggle for him.

I picked up on this and decided to send the conversation somewhere else. "Yeah, I don't really like sports." I grimaced.

"I love sports."

"Yeah, I know. I mean, look at you. No one looks like that and doesn't like sports." Then I realised what I just said. Why? God, why?

Thomas raised an eyebrow at my blatant admittance that I thought his body was amazing. Which, to be clear, it absolutely is.

He started laughing and my cheeks pinked and then his eyes were on my cheeks and he was smiling harder now.

"Why don't you like sports, Valerie?" Thomas asked me and I was grateful that he wasn't commenting on what I had just said.

"Other than the fact that every single PE teacher is the devil on Earth and has a personal vendetta against 13 year old girls that prefer books to balls with funny patterns on them? Nothing substantial." This was all true, but the main reason I hated sports had a lot to do with pointe shoes and leotards.