Cold and Charisma (BoyxBoy)

Chapter Eight

The hallway was filled with loud chatter and the sound of people slamming their lockers shut. I'd barely gotten any sleep last night, and the noise in the halls made me even more exhausted. My friends all laughed with one another, patting each other's backs as we walked through the halls.

"Hey, Archer, what's up with you, dude? You're so quiet today." One of the guys asked, his hand on my shoulder. "I'm fine, just didn't get much sleep last night." He nodded, my answer satisfying him.

Last night, all I could think about was, well, you know, Riley.

Had he found the answers I snuck into his backpack? Or had he tried to solve the work on his own? Whatever it was, I just hoped he would appreciate what I did, even if it's just the tiniest bit.

As I walked through the halls with my friend, I scanned the corridors for him. My eyes darted from corner to corner, relentless in my attempts to find out where he was. I couldn't find the same familiar mop of blond hair anywhere in the halls, and for some reason, I felt a pang of disappointment.

He was probably running late, like he always did, or in some random room trying to isolate himself from the crowds of students. Whatever it was, I knew I'd see him sooner or later– after all, our lockers were right next to each other.

A smirk crawled onto my face at the thought of this; he truly couldn't get away from me, even if he wanted to. I was in his first period, and his last, and our lockers were right next to each other, so we'd see each other during passing periods. He had no way out of this.

As my friends began to depart, with some going to their first periods, and others heading to their lockers, I began to drift away too. I had some textbooks that I needed to bring in for my first class, and plus, I might even see Riley.

I made my way over to my locker, and fiddled with the lock for a bit before it sprung open. Students were beginning to slam their lockers shut, and their footsteps began to dissolve. I'd be late for my first class, but it didn't really matter to me at that moment.

I wonder if he was even here today– what if he stayed home? Or, like I said earlier, maybe he was in a room, keeping to himself before class started? I could basically picture him in an empty classroom, face relaxed, guard down, as he took a short nap before class started. 

I wonder how he looks when he's not so mad, when his facade of irritation finally melts. Would he still have that same look of curiosity and innocence like he did on the first day of school? 

The look that suited him so well, yet was rarely seen because he was always worked up? I chuckled, and shook my head. He looked better when he wasn't so mad.

After I shoved some textbooks into my backpack, I turned around, eyes still focused on zipping it up. I was so focused on my books that I almost didn't see a furious, irritated, blond boy in front of me.

"I said I didn't need your help!"

A hand shoved a piece of paper against my chest, and I looked down to see the familiar mop of blond hair.

It was Riley.

A smile tugged at my lips as I met his glare, thinking he looked almost endearing.

He seemed cuter today, if that was even possible. His hair was a mess, like he'd just rolled out of bed, and his tie was askew, with his cuffs unbuttoned.

The morning light streamed through the windows, highlighting the glints of gold in his blond hair and the gray specks in the blue of his eyes, which were currently full of hatred and distaste.

His outstretched hand pressed a crumpled piece of paper into my chest, the one I had slipped into his backpack. His eyes were blazing with anger, and his gesture was filled with anger.