Bad Boys Fall For the Innocent

Chapter Fourteen ~ Diabetic 60 Year Old

Surprise surprise! A little present for you ;)

Chapter Fourteen ~ Diabetic 60 Year Old (Totally not something to joke about)

"Sorry I'm late," I said as I placed my lunch bag on the table and sat down in the seat next to him, "I had a question about the assignment."

"No worries, I'm just sitting here working on the dreaded comprehension of this article...with no comprehension what so ever."

I peered over, unwrapping my sandwich at the same time. I made it this morning, it was a sandwich that had slices of whole wheat bread with lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, and mayonnaise on the inside.

"Okay, that looks disgusting." Zamir gave a similar look a kid would probably make when looking at brussels sprouts.

"It's healthy! I'm gonna live to be 100 and you'll probably die as a diabetic 60-year-old."

"Not true! Everything I eat says nutritious on the label."

"I'm sure it does," I rolled my eyes accusingly before reading the questions on the page.

"Okay, here, take this one instead." I grabbed a work packet from a nearby table, it was at a lower reading lever for people struggling with dyslexia here, working their way up the ladder of English.

He stared confusedly at it, his eyebrows knitting together, "A story about a butterfly being chased by a puppy?"

"Read it and answer the questions. We're gonna build you up!" Noticing the look he gave me, I sighed, answering his unasked question. "Like baby steps, the only way you learn to run is by taking little steps." I pleaded with him but instead, he raised an eyebrow, almost daring me to challenge his pride, which was a ridiculous thing to do anyway. "Oh come on, just do it, Zamir!"

He suddenly smiled, a grin escaping those beautiful teeth of his. "You said my name perfectly, with the accent and all, Riya," he emphasized my name, with the accent too.

I knew that his grandparents came from Turkey but I didn't know how much of a foreign accent he could muster, it was actually pretty good! I was born and raised here and I didn't grow up with an Indian accent; I couldn't even fake it! Shreya would say that it sounded like a mixture of Spanish, Russian, and a little kid...which honestly, I don't even know how that is supposed to sound.

"Okay stop changing the subject, you are doing this worksheet and that is final." I dug right into my sandwich, letting my thoughts slip right out.

Since we didn't have lunch, Mrs. Monty allowed us to eat while working in here, and I was grateful for that; everyone in here was.

A while later, I finally finished my lunch and Zamir finished his packet. I stood up and threw away my trash before sitting back down.

Zamir stared at me while confusion immediately lit my face. "What? Is everything okay?"

"Um, you—you have a little something there." He tried motioning to his own face and I tried swiping with my finger to where it supposedly was but to no avail.

He reached his hand out, probably to wipe it off himself. For a split second I froze but I soon came to my senses and immediately slapped his hand away.

"Ow! What was that for?!" He asked, frowning humorously.

"I don't know where that hand has been so keep it away from my face, I can handle my own mayonnaise stain." I wiped my mouth with the sleeve of my hoodie like a normal person, noticing the white substance smeared across the navy fabric.