Why stop at just friends?

C H A P T E R | 8

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Another day spent at school. Today was only Tuesday, barely half way through the week. Yesterday was certainly something. I still couldn't put my finger on why it had blown up the way it did between Phoenix and I, we after all, weren't often nice to one another, but I decided it was best to stop fretting over it. There was little worth in overthinking the situation. I had to simply do my best in avoiding him.

Which was difficult, since he and I happened to share the same class, and of course, we were pleasantly arranged to sit beside one another. It was actually where I was headed to now.

I hesitated by the classroom door. Toughen up! I was strong and independent, so why did he make me feel otherwise? If I can handle the pesky green eyed prick, in other words, Sean, I'd be able to handle Phoenix. I entered the room to see an empty desk. Of course his chair wasn't already occupied. He's always late. I slid into my seat, arranged all that I needed for the lesson and sat quietly. Miss started her class while I began note taking.

Five minutes later, rolled in Phoenix, whose hair appeared dishevelled. There was a lipstick smudge tinting the corner of his lip. I fought rolling my eyes, hearing the cheers from his idiotic mates. Phoenix didn't blink an eye by the unwanted cheering, simply dropped his hands from the panel of the doorway and walked across the room.

His lips were still parted, cheeks a heated red, not from shame or embarrassment, obviously. Those blue eyes still somewhat dazed, landed on me. I blinked, glancing away. Flashbacks of yesterday returned. He sat down while I straightened, focusing on the screen projector as our teacher prepared to put on a documentary. It was unfortunately, a double period and I wasn't in the mood. Far, far from it.

There was no honour in lying, so I needed to admit that yes, there was tension between him and I, right now. It was heavy and draped over my shoulders like a thick blanket. Elbow pressed against the desk, I rested my chin on my palm, watching as the lights dimmed. The documentary started, the class silent as heavy coated, thick English accent met our ears. Suddenly, I felt a rough nudge on my arm, breaking my position and nearly causing me to face plant against the desk. I quietly gasped, shocked by what just happened.

My narrowed eyes instantly darted towards him. He wasn't looking at me but there was a tight, forced smile on his face. So he was still mad about yesterday? "Are you serious?" I whispered out, glaring. The bright light eliminating from the projector blinked across his features.

"Why are you speaking?" He spoke rudely, voice smug. "Can't you see, I'm busy?"

I furrowed my brows. Instead of answering, I leant as far away as possible, sitting on the corner of my chair. I was silly enough to even scoot my chair away from his, right to my edge and side of the table. I don't care if he noticed and I certainly don't care if I'm behaving childish.

From the corner of my eye, I could see his head turn as he inspected the sudden space between us. "What," His voice was intentionally lowered a she sealed his words out. I couldn't help but look over at him. He watched my hesitant expression, face still impassive, just like yesterday. "Don't tell me you're scared of me?" I could hear the taunting tone of his voice. One that was dark yet egotistical. He thinks he has the upper hand on me?

I should've let it go. Continued avoiding him, but I didn't resist or subside my frustration. I fed it, saying, "Fuck off."

I had a death wish. Unfortunately, for my sake, I was far too down the bitter track to act somewhat mature or reasonable about this. He paused completely, body shifting in a jolt as his stare fell on the table. I could see his eyes narrow before he covered it up, looking back up at me. He opened his mouth and I braced myself for whatever insult was to come.