These are oneshots based off my story 'Born to be my Baby'. I highly recommend that you read that first as much of this won't make sense otherwise!
This book contains singular chapters that follow Jon and Amelia's story a little more closely, showin...
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History had very quickly become John’s favourite class. It was the only one in which the teacher was kind enough to keep John and Amelia situated next to each other, even if they spent most of their time chatting.
“You really shouldn’t be copying my answers,” Amelia said on their way to the school cantina. “Miss Raymond already flagged it up, you could get marked for plagiarism.”
“How would they prove it?”
“It’s easy enough proven, John." She rolled her eyes. “Your answers are my wording verbatim. Plus you don’t know a lick of any of this stuff without my help. We’re revising this tonight.”
“What? No! C’mon, I ain’t gonna be some history professor, who cares if I get a bad grade?”
“I care. And your parents surely care. It’s one summer of revising and you never have to step foot in a school again, grades will help your future no matter what you do.”
“Do you think your parents would let me in the house if they thought I was your study buddy?”
“Absolutely not,” she muttered, “Boys are forbidden in my house.”
“Unless they’re some lawyer's son, right?”
“Oh Johnny,” she leaned up to kiss his cheek. He couldn’t stand the pity. “Don’t get so down about it, my parents are old-fashioned folk. They’ll come round to you eventually.”
He kicked a stone with his foot. “Sure. I ain’t ever gonna be a doctor, baby. Is this gonna be a problem for us?”
“Not for me,” she promised. “I like you for you, I don’t care about your profession, or your bank account.”
“I’m not dirt poor, y’know?” he said bashfully.
“I know. But I would feel for you all the same if you were.”
John could be satisfied with that.
The pair continued their stroll to the lunch queue, halting abruptly when a pair of mismatched Converse came into their downturned view.
“Hey doll.”
Amelia glared at the boy that’d dared intrude upon their conversation.
“Hey, who are you callin’ doll?” John huffed, attempting to straighten himself to Sammy Greenwood’s six-foot stature. “Get outta here man, she’s not gonna date you. Face it Sammy, she doesn’t want you! She had the chance to go out with you and she turned ya down, now beat it.”
Sammy’s nostrils flared to twice their diameter. Amelia wasn’t sure she’d ever seen an expression other than mockery, confidence, or smugness on Sammy’s chiselled canvas; to see hints of displeasure incited a quiet victory within her.
He clocked her almost instantly. At the subtle smirk on the young girl’s face, Sammy abandoned any intention to play nice.
“Sure. Who said I wanted anything to do with a girl like her anyway?”
