Kissing Booth || Jarren

[ 9 ] Kiss the Ground

Justin staggered down the hallway toward the cafeteria. Half past noon and he was utterly exhausted. First period, while not a disaster, had also not been his favorite part of the day. He'd spent the better part of it turning Oliver's words over in his mind, trying to decipher the reasoning behind them. Was he really the only person who kissed Darren at the booth? And if so, why?

Justin could pitch multiple answers in his mind, some seeming more plausible than others. His best assumption was that Darren had been dared or peer pressured into it, and then proceeded to withdraw from kissing random people for the rest of the night. Perhaps he'd made out with a few chicks, but no more junior boys. Or... any boys? Huh, Justin thought. The question of Darren Liang's sexuality hadn't even crossed his mind. 

He didn't let himself wonder. He didn't care anyway. Nor did he have the liberty of minding such things. After dropping the massive truth bomb, Oliver had completely transitioned into academic mode, acting as if the conversation had never taken place. Justin had been left to scramble and stuff his thoughts away so he could focus on the task at hand.

They had actually accomplished a lot. The experiment was run, results were recorded, and data tables were made. While most of Oliver remained a mystery, he was clearly a diligent student who pulled his weight in group projects, even those that weren't his own. Justin had ultimately decided he was open to working with the easygoing King again. That was two Kings who had turned out to be alright.

So how the hell were they associated with this total douchebag who had just tripped Justin in front of the entire lunch line?

Before he could react, Justin found himself plunging face-first onto the cold marble floor as laughter erupted all around him. His backpack, which had been lazily flapping open on his shoulders, exploded on impact. Notebooks and pencils flew in all directions, ricocheting off of lunch trays and littering the premises with loose papers.

Fucking hell, Justin groaned inwardly. Now what was he supposed to do? Part of him wanted to roll to his feet and beat the living daylights out of the asshole who tripped him. Another part of him wanted to just lie on the floor and hope it eventually swallowed him whole.

As he started to gather his limbs beneath him and assess the damage, a smug voice projected clearly behind him, "While you're down there, you can lick my shoes. They smell like soju now."

More laughter. A mixture of nervous, forced chuckles and cold, cruel, maniacal cackling.

"Jackass," Justin spat, feeling a familiar pool of red-hot rage bubbling inside of him. He slid his backpack off and slowly climbed to his feet, coming face to face with his perpetrator. Darren Liang, in all his silvery, leathery studded self-righteousness, stood there wearing the nastiest smirk Justin had ever laid eyes on. "I'll fucking kill you," he snarled viciously.

"Oof. Nasty words coming from a flower boy," Darren teased. "Ain't your mouth too pretty for that? I mean, I would know."

For a moment, Justin didn't budge. Then a sudden rush of adrenaline surged through his veins as he lunged forward and grabbed a fistful of Darren's shirt. Drawing his other arm back, he curled his fingers and swung directly at his antagonizer's face. Darren blocked it easily, catching Justin's fist in his hand and clamping down tightly.

Silence swept across the room as the two of them stood rigid and unmoving. Justin glared into Darren's dark eyes, trying to burn a hole straight through the King's skull. In his peripheral vision, he could see Darren's cronies slowly closing in, ready to jump him if his muscles so much as twitched. If that happened, it would all be over for him.

He clenched his jaw, brow furrowing as war raged within him. If he could just get one good swing in, he could mess up Darren's stupid pretty face and walk away with a small reward for his outburst. However, if things went sideways, which they most likely would if he attacked, he'd be the fool with the broken nose and nothing to show for it.