[One] How About No
Boys.
Boys, boys, boys.
Boys.
They were everywhere. Every. Fucking. Where. They were in the corridors, on the benches, at the water fountains, near the desks, on the desks. It was a disaster. A complete chaos. There was absolutely no way out of this.
"It's okay, Emily, I could just cover you up from behind and it won't show," Jenna tried, but I felt the word 'hopefully' linger at the end of her sentence. She wouldn't just be straight forward and tell me that everyone, everyone, was going to the huge red spot on my faded jeans from behind. On my butt, to be specific.
In case you haven't figured it out, I was having a very hard time trying to cope with my period spot. And I was failing miserably.
"Oh, my God, I'm going to flood the whole classroom," I whined. Oh, the perks of being a female.
Anyway, so, this whole fiasco lasted for, let's say, three lessons, before lunch started. I waited until everyone fled to the cafeteria to go on with their own lives and took this as my golden opportunity to actually do something about my jeans. And the fact that I got my period two weeks earlier than it was due on. But, I was going to deal with that later.
As I was strolling down the deserted corridor to make my way to the bathroom, I heard someone clear their voice. NO. Quickly, I jumped towards the nearest locker and pressed my back against it, hoping that whoever was out there would actually think I was just being a bad ass and skipping class or something. When I looked to my left, I discovered that it was a guy. A good-looking one, while we're at it.
You're screwed, Emily. The last shred of dignity that you've had is now gone, flushed down the toilet and passed into the sewage to rot with the cockroaches and rats.
"Do you need another pair of jeans?" the guy asked. Was he mocking me? I wasn't completely sure since his face lacked any kind of facial expression, but if he was then he was an inconsiderate asshole who deserved to fall in a manhole on a rainy day.
"Nah, I think I'll just die casually from embarrassment," I shrugged. If there was one thing that I have learned from life, then it's that tall boys with pretty eyes and deep voices and messy hair who smirk a lot are the absolute worst, avoid them at all costs, 0/10, would not recommend.
And he was one of them.
"You're funny," he said, cracking the tiniest smile ever. Well, technically, it wasn't really a smile. It was somewhat a straight line but with the edges of his lips slightly turned upwards. I didn't know humans were capable of this, but it happened.
"God, can you just pretend we never met and then go on with whatever life was planning for you to do, and let me just try to figure out what I was going to do before you oh-so-helpfully decided to make fun of me?" I muttered quickly.
"Whoa, slow down," he said, "I was actually going to help."
"I know y- wait," I said dumbfounded, suddenly catching up with what he was saying, "what?"
"Yeah..." he trailed off as he looked into distance.
"Great!" I chirped and clapped my hands like a retarded seal. He looked taken aback and widened his eyes - his pretty, green eyes - for a nanosecond before they turned back to their normal, emotionless self.
"Great," he repeated, but this time, it was the most unenthusiastic 'great' I had ever heard. Way to lift my spirit up.
Two minutes had passed and we were still standing awkwardly in the same position, with none of us making an attempt to actually talk. I was still leaning on the locker and he was still standing in front of me. He wasn't moving. At all. It was as if he was one of those statues you'd find in museums, staring at nothing in particular, just into space.
For god's sake, he wasn't even moving his eyes.
What if he's dead?
Dead? He can't be dead. He's still standing, tall and-
HOLD A SECOND. IS THAT 'THE BEATLES' ON HIS SHIRT? OH MY GOD, HE LIKES THE BEATLES.
Wait a second.
No. NO. He's can't like The Beatles. He can't be hot and have a great taste in music, too.
That's totally unfair to the whole male population, you know?
I mean, come on. He has dark hair, and it's messed up in a way that gives me the urge to run my fingers through it. And have you seen those eyes? I would've never guessed that someone could actually have this colour. God dammit, those are the greenest green eyes I have ever seen.
But what if he thinks that The Beatles are actually the beetles; you know, the type of insect? Maybe he's into these sorts of creatures?
Why am I talking to myself? Am I insane?
Oh, wow. Lovely.
"Dude?" I said. He snapped back to reality and then a small smile slowly crawled onto his face. An actual smile. And god, was it beautiful. He even has dimples, guuuuurl.
"Okay, I got it planned."
"Got what planned?" I furrowed my eyebrows.
"How we're going to steal some pants," he grinned. I was lost in the way his lips curled delicately and how his teeth were so perfect, that I hadn't realised that he said...
"We are going to what?" I shrieked.
"We are going to steal them."
❄ ❄ ❄
"So how are we going to do this exactly?" I whispered frantically as I watched the girls on the swimming team undressing to get into the pool.
"Isn't it obvious?" he rolled his eyes. Funny how I didn't even know his name, yet we were going to be partners in crime. When I looked at him flatly, he continued, "we'll wait until all of the girls are done changing and then you are going to go grab a pair of pants that look normal."
"Why are you emphasizing 'that look normal'?" I asked. He let out an agitated sigh and shook his head at me.
"Are you stupid?" he asked seriously, "normal so that nobody would think you stole it."
"Oh."
"Yeah, oh," he rolled his eyes, "now go get them."
God, this was just like Mission Impossible.
❄ ❄ ❄
"They're a little too tight," I choked out as I stumbled out after I finally managed to squeeze into them. And then he started laughing. Hysterically.
"Oh, God," he breathed out, "you look like a penguin."
