Mr. Player

Chapter Nine - I Show Him to My Room

A/N: Bringing in a new character which will reflect my new found love for teen wolf. All will be revealed shortly)

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Chapter Nine - I Show Him to My Room

Stereotypes. We hate them yet they follow them. When I say 'them' I'm referring to the people in my school. We fit them yet we defy them. Now when I say 'we' in this case I'm referring to Luke and I.

Stereotypes; proving them wrong. People with zero status like me shouldn't be talking to people with faces like his. True. Nerds like me can't have a decent conversation with a Bad Boy like him. False. I can't be anything more than friends with someone like him. Also False.

Don't jump the gun. I said they can't, which is incorrect because anything is possible. What I didn't say in alternative to cant was 'shouldn't' or 'wont' because then it would be true. I can't allow myself to be another one. Pardon my language, but a lady of the evening in high school (without pay). Just another one chasing after the all time famous Luke Brooks.

Not that he wants to. You aren't pretty like those other girls. You don't know how to flirt back like those other girls and you definitely don't catch his eye like those other girls.

"Hello?" A hand flicks in my face, breaking the spell that is my brain, spiraling in endless thoughts of that delinquent.

"So Al, you going to bring me to your house some time? It'll save you some petrol." He adds, knowing that one day he will get around me.

"Hm, let me have a little think about that one." I pause, twisting my pencil between my index finger and my thumb.

"No." I reply, scribbling the answer to the small task placed in front of us which we should be doing in silence.

"Why? Are your walls paper thin and you're worried that your parents might hear your scream?" I studied his face, something that I found myself doing quite often.

I registered his words then in the small filing cabinet in my brain that is called 'dirty lines' I understood just what he meant. I looked back at him with a scowl on my face and he was smirking, just like I suspected.

"Gosh Al." He said pretending to be surprised and disgusted. "I'm ashamed of that dirty mind of yours, that could get you into trouble one day. I was merely referring to you screaming when I scare you." His smirk, that sexy smirk grew bigger to his left side, the way it always does.

Gee for a person who really doesn't like this boy I seem to be flattering him a lot, in my brain of course.

"You're distracting me." I said, frowning at the smile that was etching across my face at the slight thought of Brooks.

Stupid Alex!

"I'm the best distraction though." I could hear the smile in his voice as I zoned in on the questions.

They were all about the Scarlet Letter. Adultery. And there goes my mind, skipping back to Brooks. I questioned just how many girls he had been with, maybe they were just rumors. What am I saying? I saw the clothes in the 'glory basket.' There was more clothes there than my entire wardrobe combined.

I hear his tongue can work magic, magic not even one could begin to imagine. I hear that you can feel it through your whole body. Ew Alex, way to get grossed out.

"Are you going to make me follow you home?" He whispers from beside me.

"Remember the days where you attempted to convince me that you weren't a stalker." I replied with one eye brow raised in his direction.

Most of the time I always have something to say, something to retaliate with, words only of course. With Brooks only, I have a new found confidence. I'm surprised myself that he hasn't bored me with his ego. Then there is other times where he leaves me completely and utterly speechless. Something that no one but him has succeeded at.

He is my exception.

The bell sounded and I quickly finished off the small task that wasn't going towards my report, hence my little effort. This isn't like you Alex, you always put one hundred percent in everything you do. You aren't being your perfect little self. Maybe I'm tired of what is expected, I'm tired of trying to be perfect. I'm tired of not being the Alex who used to run around the back yard, care free. Free of stress, high standards and what's expected.