Three Guys Like Me. I Hate All Of Them

Three Guys Like Me. I hate All Of Them - Chapter 2

"Okay. So the Civil War...Can anyone tell me what happened?" Our history teacher, Mrs. Plank asked. She was a bitter woman, not the nicest around. She was also up there in age, you could see her white roots coming in, a huge contrast from her brown hair. Someone needs a root touch up. Mrs. Plank always had a questionable fashion sense, and today was no different.  I scanned Mrs. Plank's outfit, starting with her super high waisted navy blue dress pants, bright orange tank top, a navy blazer to match her pants, and white sandals.

A few hands went up, wanting to answer the witch's question.

I couldn't care less about this lesson, so I was scratching a skull into my desk with a pen, letting the wood chip away slowly.

"Ellody. What do you think happened?"

"I think it was a war." I said, bored out of my mind. She should be happy I answered, since I'm barely paying attention. My mind was on the Asking Alexandria lyrics currently stuck in my head. That turned into remembering their concert I went to not too long ago. I love them so much.

Mrs. Plank scoffed, I could almost hear her eye roll. "Good job, Ellody."

Lucky me, this bitch knows I don't give two shits about her class, but she likes to think she has control over me, giving me detentions and sending me to the principal just because I fell asleep in her class for a week straight. Not my fault she gives the driest history lessons.

I grumble a response, my mind back singing the same song verse over and over.

The classroom door opens, and everyone's eyes go to the person walking in late. I just continue scratching in the skull, my eyes not looking up. Why would I care that they're late?

"Ian, I believe?" Mrs. Plank asked.

My eyes betrayed my brain and they lift to see the new kid standing near the door, staring at me.

I scoffed at him, rolling my eyes and look back to my desk, giving more detail to my skull's eyes.

"Ian?" Mrs. Plank asks.

"Yeah." The kid says, girls melt at the sound of his British accent, and I just roll my eyes at them. Who the hell cares about accents? They're not that great. Women shouldn't try to throw themselves at a guy just for the accents, it's shallow as all hell.

"Great. Take a seat next to Ellody, there."

My head shot up, eyes wide. That bitch did not just say he should sit next to me.

"Okay." I saw the twitch of his lips at my reaction. I wanted to punch it off.

Ian walked down the aisle of desks until he was standing next to the  one that was empty beside me, one strap from his backpack hanging on his shoulder. His hazel eyes flickering between me and the desk.

I glared at the guy, daring him to sit next to me. There's only a select few that can sit next to me without getting punched in the face. I don't like people in my bubble, it's my safe space, and people bother me. That's number one.

"What?" I snapped,

"Nothing." He smirked, taking his seat and setting his book bag next to his chair.

I went back to my skull, but I started to feel Ian's eyes on me.

I ignored him, I know he's just doing it to get a rise out of me, and it's starting to work. I am really starting to hate this dude and everything about him. Doesn't he know that staring is impolite? Or did they not teach him some damn manners in butt-fuck England?