Positively Negative [Rewrite]

Nov19: Simon, Garfunkel, & Double Entendre; Maybe Because The Rains Came

Mrs White welcomed Ryan and I into CT with a sickly sweet smile.

"I trust you're behaviour will be spot on, this time around," she said to me, struggling to keep hold of the folders in her hands. Ordinarily, I might have offered help, but her statement was needless and irritating so I kept my hands shoved in my pockets and a blank look on my face. Ryan smirked as we went to take our places though.

"Spot on what?"

I was sure she heard, but she decided to ignore it; save her breath. Which was fair enough.

Before five minutes had passed, Freddie hadn't arrived, but White took us all up to the computer suites anyway, so by the time the guy in question turned up at the door, twelve minutes had gone by, and I'd started on my powerpoint. I watched the exchange between Freddie and Mrs White with, what I imagined was, a put out expression. She didn't shout at him, or seem to offer him the same sarcastic dig that she had me. My frown deepened when Freddie started to head towards me, and I turned back to face my computer screen. Ridiculous.

The seat beside me was rolled back, and Freddie sat before rolling slowly forwards again. There was a moment of silence before I continued typing, finding a rhythm eventually, joining in with the constant chorus of keys being tapped.

Freddie said, "Thought I was meant to do you."

"You want to?" I asked. "I don't particularly want to do yours, but if you want to do me, feel free because this is boring as." I pushed the keyboard over to him and let my uncaring stare follow through. His face looked a little odd, with eyebrows pinched upwards, eyes narrowing and lips not entirely visible as a hand loosely covered them.

"Shall I do you now or later?" he wanted to know, speaking haltingly. And then I heard, again, what I'd said, took in the facial expression that I realised was result of an effort not to laugh, felt my own expression drop into something that exposed too much embarrassment, and my face redden all the way to the tips of my ears, and I cursed it all as he finally laughed.

I took my iPod out, pushed my earphones into my ears and heard him say "Later then?" before everything was drowned out by screamo.

Freddie simply turned to his computer and logged on (pointless though it was, considering there were less than ten minutes left of the lesson).

Dammit.

Fuck him. And fuck Ryan too. Fucking determined to fucking jerk off in my house. Fucking had to jerk off with me and then show up in my fucking dreams and fucking jerk the fuck off again, like—fuck.

Gay shit.

Or, just gay.

Shit.

I flinched about a mile in the air when Freddie nudged my arm, retracting the limb as close to my torso as I possibly could. He regarded me with a raised eyebrow and said something I couldn't hear. I slowly pulled an earphone out.

'Stop kicking the table," he repeated.

I scowled. I hadn't realised I'd been doing so, but while still holding his gaze I took to smacking my foot against the metal legs of the surfaces the computers were on again. A slow grin started to creep up his face as he realised, just as I did, that it bloody hurt like hell. I allowed more time in between the taps, waiting until he looked away to stop, but he wouldn't. Just kept watching me with stupid, unblinking brown eyes.

I tensed, wanting so badly to keep stubbornly on, but my foot was throbbing and my pride was tarnished enough as it was. So I stopped. Freddie's beam was so bright it could have put the sun out of its job. Wanted to flip him off, but I was too embarrassed to even do that.