Faster Than a Kiss

1 - Marriage?!

Wandering around aimlessly from place to place, never truly knowing where to go or where to stay.

- S. K.

I got pushed aside when a lanky brown haired guy made his way through the hallway. Trying to casually steal a wallet from an opened locker.

What a pain.

I walked up to him and casually shoved him right back. "What the fuck, bitch-" I threw him a punch, knocking him right into the set of lockers in the process. "I could say the same for you. What are you doing with a wallet that isn't yours?" He tried standing upright, but I only pushed him back, trying my hardest to be gentle as every annoyed cell in my body could muster. He tried giving me a glare until I gave one of my own. A look of recognition passed his eyes as he understood.

Yeah, stay down.

Honestly, I frequently get labeled as a violent person, even as far as a delinquent. But, to put it simply, I just really hate wrongdoers.

The girl who was previously clueless and was about to lack lunch money for the rest of the week finally turned around. She roughly took her wallet back in realization and slapped him with it so hard, I could've sworn one of his teeth fell out.

Ouch.

Gripping his mouth, he tried fleeing the scene, but Mr. Lancer, our gym teacher, and school supervisor stood in front of him with a glare. "What's happening here?"

"He-He..." The girl continued, sniffling as her eyes began to water, "He was going to steal my wallet," she went to wipe away a rogue tear, "Sir."

If Mr. Lancer's glare didn't kill the brunette before, it sure as hell would now. "Mr. Parker... You and I are going to have a talk, in the principal's office!" With that, he dragged the poor boy away.

The girl went up to me, "Thanks for stopping him." she said, smiling as if she wasn't about to burst into tears a while ago.

I almost feel bad for him. Women are seriously scary.

***

I reached my obligatory French class and immediately wanted to run back home. There he stood, the source of my dread, in all his cheerful glory.

At first glance, he didn't seem too out of the norm. He had the standard sandy blonde hair, blue eyes, boy next-door look. If your teacher was the boy next-door or cohabitant...

His glasses made him look even more normal. But his semi-formal suit did look unusually tight enough that he could've been mistaken for a coach instead of a teacher. That was Mr. Delacroix for you. I could never understand how his joyful personality could accompany such a sexy last na-

STRIKING. STRIKING LAST NAME.

"Ah, Mademoiselle Scarlett, tu es finalement arrivée!" I scrunched my face at him. Giving him a baffled look, I tried to come up with my best response to his foreign words. "Uh... J'aime les pommes...?" It was visible from the way he was biting his inner cheek that he was either trying not to laugh or cry. I also heard a few chuckles and snorts in the class.

What the hell?! What did Aileen tell me?!

"Good to know," he said, amused. I gave him a confused look and this time he let out a cough, trying to prevent himself from laughing. "I announced that you finally arrived and you respond about your appetite for apples." he stated while grinning. I was about to say something, but I realized that I embarrassed myself enough for a day and sat down.