~•Me And The Boys•~

4 - Pity the fool

Third period home and careers was the most boring class I had. I didn't even like cooking. And I couldn't sew for the life of me. I could just barely crochet. My grade for it wasn't the best. But it was about to drop a whole lot more. Because we were crocheting again.

Most of us didn't do too well. The girls seemed to understand it a lot better than I did. But why the hell would I ask for help when I could just suffer on my own? Not like I had any friends in this class.

I mean, there was Olivia. But I couldn't really consider her a friend. She was a snitch. Her mother worked in the office. And I think she liked me.

Maybe not. I'm not super attractive or anything. But she's really weird around me. Oliva laughs at everything I say and she won't ever leave me alone.

She say right next to me, too. Switched desks with Molly to be closer to me. Honestly? I couldn't imagine dating her. There was something about her that was just so unbearable. Maybe it was her voice, or the way she kept tucking her hair behind her ear while staring up at me expectantly. Or maybe it was the laugh. Either way, it annoyed me to no end.

She wasn't even focused on her own crocheting project. She didn't even have a single row done, and I had four. We had been working on this for the past week, and all she had done was annoy me.

Of course, Molly had twenty-three rows done, and a few others had more. We were challenged to see how many we could make, and the person with the most would win and get a prize, or something. Someone with terribly kept brown hair that I didn't know the name of had been coming in during their lunch and study hall to get ahead. But Mr. Rose had already told the class separately that they didn't count.

Mr. Rose was yapping at the front of the class about our next unit - stocks. We'd be simulating the stock market. He talked about this unit a whole lot, but we all dreaded it. Who the hell gets excited for stocks?

And who the hell was Mr. Rose to be such a cunt? Honestly. I don't even talk to him more than I need to, but we can't even ask him questions during labs. We had to ask two of our peers whatever our question was, and only then would he consider answering our questions. And he was such a hater, too. Mr. Rose thought he was better than everybody else because he cooked for Gordon Ramsay ONCE.

I had to admit, though, he was fucking funny sometimes. He just let chaos happen.

He didn't correct someone when they put salt instead of sugar in their pancakes, and then upon realizing the mistake, they gave the terrible pancakes to the other Landon when he whined about being hungry - right before his lunch period. He about threw up, wouldn't stop complaining about how terrible they were to anyone and everyone that would listen. Mrs Agen had to tell him to shut the hell up. She had to play music over his whining.

That Landon. He was a sore loser. Just like Cayden. But at least Cayden didn't yell about every foul or enemy point during gym. And at least Cayden actually tried to look nice. His buzzcut suited him, even when it grew out. The other Landon was better off bald. His hairline was already gone. Running away from him like his father did.

Cayden is so damn sweet. He follows me around like a lost puppy and clings to me like a cat. His face is right in line with my chest. He's been bad at eye contact ever since middle school; he never looks me in the eyes. He'll stare me down, but the second I turn to him, he's looking away. His eyes are always, always trained on my chest. His glasses make his eyes look bigger, Cayden is as blind as a bat. But he always manages to notice the little things, like the scars where I tore off my birth marks and The bruises all up my arms from being rough.

And he always comments on how rough my hands are, how he's being sanded down by my callouses. But his hands are just too soft. He doesn't do any real work, ever. Cayden can't do a push-up. But damn if he didn't deserve a spot on the track team. It was all in the legs. I'm thoroughly convinced that he wears shorts all year round just to show off how damn muscular his legs are.

And Cayden could probably kick the shit out of me, and I'd thank him. Not in a gay way. But if those legs were on a woman, I'd never be more than ten feet away. I don't have a thing for legs, but Cayden is just so... So strange. So odd. He looks like he should be crying on the floor when he gets hit with a dodgeball. But even with broken glasses, he plays and just goes the rest of the day without. He's thin and weak, but he could probably crush me with his thighs and calves(he'd need to use both, because he's so damn short). Now if only he knew how to use his natural strength instead of focusing on his upper body. He could probably fuck shit up if he took martial arts.

Why am I thinking about his legs again?

Right. Crocheting.

I miss my best buddy. I can't stand Olivia.

I'm thinking about anything but her, trying to ignore her giggles and pokes and prods. I'd just finally gotten my fifth row done.

I've been slacking; hiding in the back of the classroom, playing Clash of Clans and Clash Royale, mostly. Cayden hasn't been able to beat me in a single battle. Mostly because I haven't battled him yet. Probably because I use someone else's phone to play. I do not own one.

I've just been snatching a buddy's phone while he works. He's got so many rows done, I've given up on trying. I'm only working for a grade.

I didn't know how to play any of the games on his phone at firstand I lost him at least a hundred trophies in Clash Royale. Sorry Fredrick. I didn't mean it.

A/N: Guess who, fuckers!!! No this is not discontinued!!! Don't mind how bad this is I am really thirsty but I don't want to get up and move the 3 feet to my drink. Also Landon actually SWOONED over Cayden's legs nonstop and I thought it was funny so here you go. Like I try to fall asleep at night and I just remember listening to Landon gush about how muscular Cayden's legs were... To Cayden. That motherfucker was SQUEEZING the poor twink's thigh every chance he got. Iron grip. He wanted to bite that shit so bad.