An Unspoken Whisper · Maxley

Chapter 5: GIVE HIM SOME SUGAR😍😫

^Bradley POV^

It went on for a week.

Not like I was counting though, pfft, like I'd waste time on that.

It was one week of suffering every time I had a class with that stupid goof and the redhead. Don't get the wrong idea, I wasn't suffering over HIM, what an absurd idea, * rich scoff*, no, I was suffering because it distracted me and it would take a toll on my grades.

But having to watch them mess around in class and play fight with each other, made my blood boil, and I mean it always does over little things like that, no big deal.

FUCK YOU REDHEAD-

...

I scribbled down notes absently mindedly while I listened to the professor's lecture, something about how some people's tails can fall off if you pull them off or something, I glared at him sometimes, I mean, who cares?

I turned my glare over to the redheads bobbing head in the corner and rolled my eyes, she and freshman were giggling over something, getting all touchy and pushing shoulders. I smoldered and looked down at the marble table, kicking the back of the table.

I saw Tank put a note on top of my book in front of me and I sideglanced at him and saw him staring down at me, his eyebrows scrunched down on his eyes. I narrowed my eyes looked down at the little piece of paper, and opened it slowly, looking up a few times if the professor was looking at us, and he wasn't.

I finally finished opening the carefully folded note and read the words on it:

You alright? You look a little tense.

I mean look at your cursive, not like I'm judging, it still looks good, it's just a bit wonky...

...

I glanced at my note, ugh, he was right. I picked up a pencil delicately, trying not to lose my temper with him too.

It's nothing just Freshman getting on my nerves.

I passed him the note, resting my hand on my chin as I looked out the long wide window that filled the room with sunlight. To be honest, this was one of my favorite rooms to study in, it was so wide and open, and smelt like old book pages and freshly baked coffee beans.

I watched Tank roll his eyes at the piece of paper and scribble down a response. He passed the note quickly when the teacher turned his back to write something down on the chalkboard.

You've been like this since last week what is up, baby?

I sighed and looked up at him. Could I trust Tank? He lifted his eyebrows at me, questioningly. "Later," I whispered, and he let it go, although he was still giving me curious glances throughout the lecture.

When the professor yawned and told the class we could go, I picked up my books and neatly put them in my bag, organizing them by color. I saw Tank out of the corner of my eye tap his foot on the floor repetitively, impatiently. He had his arms crossed, but he waited until I slowly put the bag on my shoulder and followed me out of the study hall.

We went down the quiet halls, I was not in the mood to hear the usual cat-calls from invalid studs still mooning over how I lost the X-games and all that, that was so last season.

He cornered me in a secluded corner and I sighed, looks like I'm not getting out of this one. Tank was too attentive when something interested him.

"I swear if you don't spill right now, baby, I'll make you-"