Don't Want Your Attention

1. Well, there goes my nap...

Well, there goes my nap...

“Shh, be quiet,” a deep voice teased, stirring me out of my sleep. A high shrill giggle followed, insuring me that this wasn’t a part of my dream. If it were, I’d be having a really messed up dream.

A soft groan escaped my throat as I removed my black hoodie from my face, squinting as my eyes adjusted to the bright light. The sun was shining and the birds were chirping. It was a beautiful day out and I had planned to embrace it through a nap on the bleachers. Ugh, what’s going on? Why are you waking me up? With a sigh, I sat upwards, throwing my hoodie to my lap, and looking around for whoever was disturbing the peace.

Hearing a suppress moan sound beneath me, I looked down hesitantly, narrowing my eyes with suspicion and scrunching my face in disgust. “Wait…don’t tell me…” I softly grumbled getting up from my seat on the bleacher and squatting down so I could see in between them.

Yup, two idiots are about to have sex underneath the bleachers. From my view, I could see the golden blonde locks of Tiffany Phillips, head cheerleader, and the dark brown spiked up hair of Brandon Mercer, the school’s bad boy. Since Brandon was shirtless, I could see his back muscle ripple as he took off Tiffany's tee, mesmerizing me in a way I did not like. I turned to look at the red bricks that covered the school, not wanting to be caught peeping.

Well, truthfully, this isn’t the first time I’ve seen Brandon's muscular torso, finishing off his powerful jaw and intense dark green eyes. I’ve actually seen his 6'2" physique around his house, cutting the grass shirtless, washing his car shirtless, or swimming in his backyard shirtless. I’m not exactly a stalker, more of his next-door neighbor. Our rooms are also right across from each other, and if I really wanted to, I could walk over to his window on top of the shared rose arbor our moms decided to put up for esthetic appeal. Well, it's not like I know his room is across from mine; I always kept my curtains shut.

Shivering as I heard more moaning, I quietly rose up, not wanting to watch anymore of this yuck-fest. As silently as I could, I unzipped my backpack, stuffed my hoodie into it, zipped it back up, and slung it over my shoulder. I then dramatized my tiptoeing to the steps, pretending as if I was a spy, sneaking around someone’s home.

As I took another step, my right foot banged against one of the bleacher’s seats, causing me to fall forward yelping. While tumbling down the steps, hitting my head and arms on sharp edges, I could hear Tiffany shriek in surprise. I finally stopped falling as soon as my body collided with the rails at the bottom, squishing my wrist in the most painful way. “Cripes,” I muttered, shaking my sprained wrist around, trying to subdue the pain.

My eyes widened in panic, and the pain in my wrist went numb as I heard the ruffling of clothes, curse words, and footsteps. Freak, now they know you’re here! Run! Scrambling to my feet, I ran down the remaining steps and bounded onto the football field. My backpack weighed me down slightly, but not enough to make me slow. Good thing I was one of the fastest runners at the school.

Once I was halfway across the football field, I had a gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach. Do I hear running behind me? To confirm my suspicions, I turned my head to peer over my shoulder, my heart rate shooting up instantly. Behind, now fully dressed, was Brandon who looked fuming mad as he chased me, catching up to me with each of his long strides. “Holy cow!” I shouted, whipping my head back around and focusing on outrunning him.

Bursting through the school’s double doors, I quickly scanned the hallway, looking for someplace to hide. I spotted the girls bathroom down the hall, sprinting towards it immediately. Once you’re in there, you’ll be safe. I repeated over and over again in my head, pushing against the door and tripping to the ground inside.

I continued sitting on the ground, heaving, and trying to listen for any footsteps outside. The quietness outside calmed me down and I let out a big sigh of relief, wiping the sweat on my head with my forearm.

Hearing something drop to the floor, I look up, now noticing several girls staring at me as if I was a wild tiger, ready to pounce. I squinted my eyes at them, glaring at each one who dared to look back. Seconds later, the girls scrambled out the bathroom, pushing each other aside and keeping as much distance away from me as possible as they shuffled past me to the door.

After they were all gone, I got up and walked over to the mirror, laughing at how my disheveled look managed to scare them. My usual pin straight black hair was all over the place, and some of my side swept bangs was matted to my forehead with sweat. My cheeks were flustered, making my face look paler than usual. Good thing I didn't wear makeup, or else it would probably be all ruined and smudged.

I didn’t blame the girls for being frightened; everyone in this school was frightened of me for some reason. Well, not for some reason. I always wore dark skinny jeans, with a black top and a scowl to finish up the whole bad girl look. I used to get into fights my freshman and sophomore year, but that doesn’t happen too often anymore, so no more battle scars. I’m pretty okay with that fact that I scare everyone, I wasn’t so fond of people anyways. 

Fixing my hair, I looked at my watch that told me I had another 30 minutes before 6th period ends. I might as well use that time on my phone. Stretching my limbs, I dropped my backpack to the ground, sitting down beside it and leaning back against the wall. I reached into my back pocket, but froze when I felt nothing.

“No,” I groaned, reaching into my other pocket and still coming back empty. “Don’t freaking tell me I dropped it while I was running.” Huffing, I furiously searched through my backpack, dumping everything out onto the floor. “No, I did.”

My hand smacked against my forehead as I imagined, all the different consequences, causing a knot in my stomach and a sharp pain in my head. First of all, Brandon would easily know it was my phone because I didn’t have a password on it, allowing him to browse through my inner most life. Second, there were a bunch of photos of me, not being me. He would be seeing me in normal clothes, not the black shirts, dark skinny jeans, and mean demeanor that I always wore to school.

I smacked my forehead once again, probably leaving a red mark, grumbling, “Ugh, my life is ruined. Cue the blackmailing.” 

A/N

I know it's starting off a bit slow, but that' how the beginning of the story usually goes. Next chapter is more exciting. Tell me what you think so far? Watching the reading count slowly go up is a good motivation, but I'd love to read comments too. This is actually my first story written in first person. I usually go with the third person one sided view but first person actually seemed more appropriate for this story. If you like it, don't forget to comment or vote :)