"Between friends, unspoken feelings can feel like a fragile thread pulled taut; one denies its existence while the other hides behind its delicate weave, both yearning for the courage to unravel what lies beneath."
Ian and Julian, long-time best fri...
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I sat in the rigid desk, surrounded by the rhythmic drone of Mrs. Barnes' mathematical monologue. I watched as the marker squeaked against the board as she etched out more math formulas, seemingly unaware of the existence of the restless souls trapped within her classroom.
My attention volleyed between the board's scrawls and the clock's slow crawl towards 9 am. It seemed to mock the passing time, stretching the morning into eternity. Amidst the sea of symbols and equations, I sat somewhat disengaged, the absence of Julian and the lingering echoes of our conversation last night reverberating louder than the mathematical jargon engulfing the room.
I never brush him off; it's always the other way around. He's the one consistently bolting and giving me the cold shoulder or giving me the silent treatment when things get uncomfortable. I don't play the ignoring game when I'm dating; he does. It's his go-to move. Whatever he's got cooking in that mind of his is all topsy-turvy and twisted. I don't turn a blind eye; he does.
Yet, Julian, true to form, decides to pull his vanishing act at school again. It's like he's a black hole, attracting more attention than the geometric shapes being drawn on the blackboard. But that's not even the main event. I've lost count of the eyes sneaking glances past me or deliberately looking over me, consciously and subconsciously trying to catch a glimpse of him. And as if on cue, Rory, stationed in the desk next to me, already popped the question about him.
Her focus remains glued to her phone, shielded by the all-encompassing textbook we're supposed to be learning from. Every time Mrs. Barnes glances back, she deftly adjusts herself, pretending to be engrossed in the lesson once the lady's eyes are off us. I shoot her a look, and she immediately sighs, letting her phone slip onto the desk. In a hushed tone, she starts venting.
"Can you believe that Carrie? She's got some nerve asking me for help when she didn't even invite me to her party."
My lackluster attention lingers on her as she works herself up.
"I know, right? I can't believe it either. My invitation must've taken a detour through the Bermuda Triangle or something because she has no clue how much she owes me."
"She owes you?"
"Who do you think helped her with the last scandal involving her Dylan ? She cheated on him with her Adolf—yes, Adolf! Really? She begged me to assist her win Dylan back because she was head over heels for him." Rory rolls her eyes.
My attention shifts back to the equations on the board as I jot down the formulas.
"Remember the fundraising for her lingerie party? I made that happen, being the incredible public figure I am. So ridiculous. Lord, oh Lord. You should've seen it. And now she's in yet another mess, having the audacity to ask me for help. She's so angsty. I can't stand her. Why does Julian even get involved with her? Poor him. She's a real piece of work. She's crazy."
