Don't Want Your Attention

5. Too Much Mercer

A/N - So I wrote this a while back. Not sure if I like it, might change it. But here you go. 

"Hey Alice!" I heard someone shout from the bottom of the bleachers. Looking up from my leftover lasagna, I spotted Christine Rutherford, Tiffany's best friend, at the bottom, shifting impatiently from side to side. 

Rolling my eyes, I placed my food down on the bench and grabbed a stack of papers from my backpack. "Why don't you just walk up the freaking bleachers for once?" I grumbled at her once I reached the bottom.

"Why do you always have to sit on the top of the bleachers? And duh, heel's," Christine replied, pointing to her wedged ankle boots. I rolled my eyes at how shallow she was being and just gave her the papers in my hand. "Hey so, I heard about what happened yesterday. Hilarious!" She chimed as she placed the papers in her bag and handed me a stack of her own. "I should've told Tiffany not to do it here, but I didn't want her to question me, you know."

"Wa-Wait. So you knew!" I stuttered, widening my eyes at her and furrowing my eyebrows.

She gave me a 'yeah-of-course' look. "Well, I'm her best friend. Why wouldn't I know?"  Slinging her bag over her shoulder, Christine crossed her arms and waited for a response.

"Why didn't you tell me? I got chased by Brandon yesterday!" I exclaimed at her, throwing my hands in the air and huffing.

"Well, we can't be seen together. How was I supposed to tell you?"

"You could've at least texted!"

"Oh," Christine stated, shrugging. "Well, I'm sorry. But if we're done now, I have to get back to Tiffany and lunch."

I irritably rolled my eyes at Christine, glaring at her and shooing her away with my hand. Christine and I weren't exactly friends, more like acquaintances. In fact, we were far from acquaintances. We were polar opposites of each other. You could tell by her blush blonde hair, perfect peach complexion, perfectly rounded and slim body, and her white tooth smile, that she ran with the popular crowd, who wouldn't think twice about associating themselves with people like me.

So why were we talking to each other now? Well, I guess you can say we're benefactors. Since I skipped 6th period everyday, she would collect my homework for me and give it to me every Friday during lunch. I, in return, would help her out anytime I can. She actually harbors a secret, which is, she's homeless. Her parent's kicked her out and disowned her a year ago once she turned 18. She's currently living in a small, run down apartment, crammed in with 5 other roommates. I told her it would be cheaper to live at a homeless shelter, but she refused after living in one for 3 months.

I came across her secret while Cole and me were walking through the park late at night. Christine was cutting through the park to get to the homeless shelter after work when 4 shady guys jumped her. Cole and I quickly ran to her rescue, and once we've saved her, she broke down, telling us everything. This is the fight that Parker was talking about earlier. I was really fine after that. Just needed a whole day of sleep to put me back onto my feet.

Right now, she's saving up for college by working long hours at a convenience store on the other side of town. Since she lives in a run down apartment, I help her by washing her clothes, and occasionally giving her food and money.

"Wait, hold on. I lost my phone so I'll need your number again," I told her, ripping a piece of paper and grabbing it to her. "I'll just text you from my iPod Touch until I get another phone."

She stopped to turn around, frowning as she took out a pen and scribbled on the paper. "How the heck did you lose your phone?"

I shrugged, accepting the paper. "Don't ask, it's not important."

"Whatever. See you later tonight. I want to wear that blue top on Monday," she responded, giving off a look of annoyance and walking across the field.

Once she was out of hearing distance, I let out a groan, realizing I hadn't even done her laundry yet. Muttering incoherent words, I walked back up the steps and plopped down on the seat. I then placed my elbows on my knees and started inputting her number on my Touch.

"What was that about?" I whipped my head around to look at Brandon, who was watching Christine head back into the building.

"Mercer, what are you doing here?" I growled, going on the last name basis with him. Before he could see what I was doing, I stuffed my Touch and the piece of paper with Christine's number into my backpack.  

He plopped down beside me, giving me a teasing smile. "Didn't you basically invite me to join you when you told me where you'll be every 6th period?" He replied, placing his arm behind me and leaning back. "And, I'm kind of disappointed you didn't take my suggestion. Your pjs would've been a refreshing look instead of all this black."

"No. And why the heck would I wear pjs to school. And what black? I have blue jeans and a white shirt on. Now give me back my phone. I need it!" I pushed him away from me, getting up and taking a step down. I did not want him getting close to me.

He just shrugged, holding his palms upwards. "Sorry Woods. Left it at home." He replied, following on the last name basis. Scoffing, I grabbed my backpack and started walking away. "Hey! Where are you going?"

"Anywhere but here," I muttered, not even bothering to turn around to look at him.  

"Wait, I still have your phone, and you should be doing what I say," Brandon spoke, in a deep and seductive way. Without saying a word, I dropped my stuff onto the seat and sat a foot away from him.

"What do you want?" I whispered, not wanting him to hear me. I kept my head down low and looking away from him, not wanting to see his smirk on my action.

I could feel his warmth as he scooted on closer. "What did you say?" He teased, boring into my skin with his intense stare. I mumbled it again, even softer this time. "I can't hear you."

"What do you want?!" I exclaimed, turning to face him so he could clearly see the anger evident on my face. Instead, I realized that his face was only 3 inches away from mine, making me stare into his deep blue eyes. Like my mom, he had flecks of gold tossed into his iris, making his eyes look more enchanting.

Beat. Beat. Beat. Why is it getting so hard to breathe? I could hear my heart beat grow louder, and there was a sudden buzzing in my head. My eyelids grew heavy and I collapsed forward, fainting into Brandon's arms.