Nico Vaughan, the junior class "Nice Girl" wants to be free from her abusive and obsessive ex-boyfriend.
Valen Henford, the school's resident "Rich Guy meets Bad Boy" wants to spend his senior year with the girl he's been in love with for years.
W...
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"i had never met a soul who could speak my language. unti there was you. you, are fluent in me" (lonely-penguin). |◁ II ▷|
"Okay, if we could continue listening in class, please, second row. So, this must indicate Romeo's..."
The comment doesn't elude me. I turn away from Nico's adorable nose scrunch and stare at Mrs. Plynto, annoyed that she could have embarrassed Nico.
I glance over at her, and she's giving her own look to the teacher, making it unreadable enough to be respectful but convey her annoyance. Her head turns down to her phone, and I see her switch the playlist. She doesn't seem embarrassed, and she's still listening to her music. She must not care. Interesting.
Though I find everything about her interesting.
Mrs. Plynto drones on about Romeo and Juliet for a while longer. She finally closes her playbook and glances at the time.
"Well, it took us a minute to get through that play. Let's switch gears. Get out your ipads. We need to open our grammar books, please."
I pull my ipad from my bag and open the grammar part. I am so prepared, aren't I?
Grammar is boring, so I'll save the details. I don't focus on a single thing in the book or that is coming out of Mrs. Plynto's mouth. It's stupid and I've heard it before.
I'd love to say I'm a nerd, something Jake seems to think synonymously with me, but, really, it's the classic rich kid private tutor situation. Very fancy.
I'm proud to say I got a few stressed out enough to leave before my parents decided to put me in public school.
Yeah, well, actually... half of it is nerd-ness. I like to know things.
Now all of my focus is on Nico. Throughout the class, she takes notes and doodles on her hands and wrists with a blue pen. Sometimes she bobs her head to the music, making her curtain bangs escape from where she'd tucked them behind her ears.
I think I'm in love, and I think I'm just falling harder and harder in love with her.
Or I'm a stalker.
I can't imagine being rejected by her and having to sit in a seat near her like this, watching her do mundane things that somehow make me like her even more. Is that a stalker-ish thing to say?
I look towards the clock on the wall, and it reads 1:51. There's about 20 minutes left in class.
"Each of you should have your Beowulf books already. Pull them out real quick," Mrs. Plynto hurries, glancing at the clock.
