It was already going to be a terrible day.
I've decided that Mondays were created as some kind of cruel and unusual punishment to humankind. As punishment for what, I don't know. Probably to teach people like the morons at the back of the classroom a lesson.
Ricky Hartley was sitting in the desk behind me, propping his feet up on it so that his shoes were positioned right by my face. He was managing to chew gum and shoot spitballs at the same time, which until then, I had been almost positive was impossible. Each time one of them hit the ceiling, he turned and smirked at the guy sitting next to him. I was trying my best to tune them out.
Mrs. Phillips was teaching, or trying to teach, an especially dull lesson on the properties of DNA. (Her lessons were always boring; Mrs. Phillips had the personality of a wooden board). But each time she started a new sentence, Ricky would say something obnoxious like, "Hey, why don't we learn about the properties of sexual reproduction instead?" and the class, being the immature high-schoolers that they were, would burst into laughter.
Trying to ignore Ricky was like trying to ignore the vacuum cleaner when you're trying to study. My brain wouldn't focus on anything but stupid Ricky and his stupid spitballs, and he was making it even harder for me to concentrate by shooting them into my hair.
By some miracle, I managed to untangle them from my curls and turned around to throw one of them back at Ricky. He gave me a look that said, "Yes, I realize that I am a complete pain in everyone's butt; It's what I live for." Idiot.
I was relieved when the bell finally rang. I got up out of my seat hesitantly, half expecting that Ricky was going to try to trip me, and stuffed my notes into my backpack.
"And don't forget to finish your papers, everyone," Mrs. Phillips said, "Especially you, Ricky."
Everyone in the hallway looked like a zombie, it being Monday morning. I could only imagine what I must have looked like; I'd overslept that morning and it was the first day of the week. Only four more days to go until Saturday, and then Sunday. And then Monday again.
I quickly grabbed my English textbook out of my locker, shoving past about a million people to get to it. The downside to going to one of the largest high schools in Alabama was that there was never any room for personal space in the hallways.
Ms. Irwin, my English teacher, was standing in the front of the room when I walked in, smiling at everyone like she had just won the lottery. Ms. Irwin was always smiling; it was like the word "frown" wasn't in her vocabulary. She was one of my favorite teachers, although she probably wasn't but a few years older than most of us. I returned her smile and sauntered over to my seat in the back of the room. But there was already someone in it.
A ridiculously attractive someone.
His dark blond hair was flopping around in every direction, almost as curly as mine. I couldn't quite make out the color of his eyes, some crazy mixture of grey and green and blue- eyes that any girl would kill for. He was hunched casually over my desk, managing to look both comfortable and nervous at the same time. He looked up at me, just standing there like the mildly socially awkward person I was.
" Oh. Sorry, am I in your seat? I can move if I am. She just told me to sit anywhere I want," he said, gesturing to Ms. Irwin. "It's my first day."
He spoke slowly, with a voice as soft as honey, deep and smooth.
"No, you're fine. I mean, yeah, you're in my seat but...," I stuttered. Stupid. "You're fine."
"Are you sure? Cause there's an empty seat right there that I could sit in," he said, pointing at a vacant seat to our right.
"Or that I could sit in," I returned, plopping down in it.
"Okay." Now he was smiling. His smile was too big for his face, stretching from one ear to the other. "If you're sure."
"I'm sure."
He extended his arm toward me.
"I'm Luke, by the way."
"Hand shaking? I thought only six year olds and old people did that."
"Nope. Just cool people."
"Oh? Well then, I guess we're officially cool," I said, reaching out my hand and taking his. "I'm Adrienne."
And then the tardy bell rang and Ms. Irwin started discussing Act III of Julius Caesar, smiling as she talked.
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Thanks so much for reading! Make sure to share, comment, and vote! I'll put the next part up when this reaches 50 reads:)
<3 Shelby
