The Boy Who Loved Flowers

two | h i s t o r y

MR. REED WAVED his arms around, ranting about the structured society that Rome once was. How though separated, both Spartans and Athens were constantly strengthening the home they built. He then lead on by saying, eventually their hate drove their success to ruins, leaving only rubble for those left. Or something along those lines, I wasn't paying attention.

For a seventy-something year old man, I noted, he could move around really well. I dismissed the thought, realizing I needed to focus; none of my grades were so hot, I would've like to say I was a straight A student but that would just be a mouth full of lies.

"Looks like Gandalf's gone crazy," Lawrence leaned over, her voice low. I chuckled, never would I grow tired of Mr. Reed's rather suiting nickname. He had a long, wispy beard that reached to the middle of his torso, and an always spell-bound, mystical look in his eyes. To be fair, he was rather in love with history. He found his calling and for that, a bunch of bratty teenagers nicknamed him 'Gandalf' from a beloved set of books. The moral of that story is: even when you find your calling, there's always that one group of people who won't let you truly enjoy it. It's rather quaint.

"Something funny, Miss, uh, Willow?" Mr. Reed looked over in my general direction.

I felt the heavy weight of my peers' stares, I mentally cursed Mr. Reed. I looked up to meet his the bore of his eyes, no emotion protruding my voice, "Yes, you see, your likeness to Gandalf is rather mystifying."

Ah, yes, Vivian, being far too honest to a teacher. The correct response would've been 'No, sir, I'm sorry'. Would I regret it? Maybe, but Mr. Reed has a good sense of humor and an even better sense of forgiving a stupid student.

A deep rumble came from someone's throat, whoever it was had just entered the room. My peers' stares transferred from me to whoever stood close behind me, I regretted being in the back of the class; it still felt like I was being watched. I turned my head to see whoever chuckled at my insubordination, of course, it was him:

Ashton.

My eyes widened and I swiveled around, my focus centering on Mr. Reed's podium. Mr. Reed sighed, having already accepted that he looked similar to Gandalf, "Miss Willow, this is just a warning; do not interrupt class any longer. I will not stand it."

"Yes sir," I mumbled, lowering my head. How mortifying, I could only hope that everyone was still paying attention to the infamous star.

"Good," Mr. Reed's eyes went up to Ashton's face, "Yes?"

I could almost feel the false, charming smile plastered onto Ashton's face, his innocent stance, playing off a friendly demeanor, "I've been moved into this period, I hope that's not a bother."

In a way, it was a lie. But really, it was just an absence of the cold, hard truth. Yes, Ashton was moved from whatever class he had, but the catch was he was moved for being a dick to the teacher. Another notorious tale about him, he was known for never being in class, or being in it and ruining it.

"Not at all!" Mr. Reed smiled through his beard at the supposed gentleman, "Why don't you sit back there, next to Mr. Hall?"

Good news or bad news? Who could tell was the answer to that. Ashton sat near me, with only two people separating us; Lawrence and Tristan (A.K.A. Mr. Hall). I suppose that was just enough to avoid his predatory gaze. I willed myself not to look in his general direction, swiveling my body so I was facing Chris. I kept my eyes towards Mr. Reed, praying for the class to end.

Mr. Reed began his lectures. I was glad for the distraction. But eventually a nagging, deep voice whispered for my attention. Slowly, my head and body found their way to face Ashton.

I tilted my head in question, wondering what he wanted. Ashton smiled a fake smile, giving me a mock wave of the one I gave him days ago.

I wasn't sure if he was trying to be captivating, as if I should be bewitched that he remembered our pathetic introduction, or if he was just teasing me. And I'm definitely unsure of which I wanted it to be. I suppose the after would give me another reason to dislike him, though I knew there were plenty better options for that.

So, making up my mind, I rolled my eyes. His confident smile fell in confusion. At the same time, we both scoffed, turning away to pay attention to Gandalf's lesson.

Brriiiiiiiing!

Thirty or so minutes later, the bell shrilled, cutting into Mr. Reed's rambling, sending small crowds of students out the door and into their final period. As I put away my notes, I watched Ashton from the corner of my eye, he hadn't moved. That's when I saw his own silver orbs watching me intently, studying me like a student who had an exam the very next day. Roses burned onto my cheeks, heating up my face. I averted my gaze towards my shaky hands, swiftly putting away the crumpled pieces of paper.

I stood up straightaway once it was organized, thrusting my hand into my pants pocket as I began fishing for my phone. Kiera's going to be pissed, or greatly entertained, once she hears about his transfer. I slung my bag over my shoulders, looking down as I traveled to my last period. I clicked send, reviewing my message:

Guess what? HE'S in my history class.

Almost immediately my phone blinked, Kiera responded with a keen promise:

what?? tomorrow, i'll burst in, and fling myself onto him. i shall rid of him, just for you. now, i gotta get to class. cya.

I snorted, good old Kiera.

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hoped you enjoy this to an extent. it's more or less of a filler. ☻