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"YOU ARE ONE LOVESTRUCK idiot, my friend." Eddie Caufield leans back in his chair and fumbles with the pen that lays on his desk, a knowing smirk etched into his features as he analyses his best friend with sparkling chocolate brown eyes. Eddie watches him, his eyebrows scrunching almost painfully as his fingers race over the keypad of his phone.
Viola Lancaster sits one row—one seat to the left—in front of them during block two chemistry class, a hand tangled in her hair as she furiously writes down the ever-growing list of the teacher's whiteboard notes into her tattered school notebook. Eddie laughs, tugging on the back of his friend's collar until he is forced to look anywhere but the small device that is glued to his hands.
"I am not love sick and please, shut up." He groans, gesturing to the oblivious girl who is obviously in range of eavesdropping on their conversation before passing a calloused hand over his face and towards the nape of his neck, swatting away Eddie's arm. He flicks Eddie's forehead before turning his attention back to the phone that he hides under the desk, sinking further into his chair.
"Whatever you say dude, whatever you say." A whispered chuckle falls from Eddie's mouth one last time before they both go back to staring aimlessly at the front of the classroom and fumbling around with stationary using twitchy hands. From the corner of his eye he catches Viola slipping her phone from her blazer pocket and hiding it under her desk, the sudden buzz of his phone causing him to smile.
fuck, chemistry is such a bore [9:44am]
i couldn't agree more [9:44am]
The boy smiles and watches Viola groan under her breath as she stares at the work in her book, rummaging through her pencil case aggressively before letting out a small sigh. She looks around the room as if trying to catch anyone's eye, but all of her other peers were too immersed in their own content to notice her distress. He freezes when she turns to the back of the classroom, her eyes catching his own as she notices his attention was anywhere but the desk.
"Hey," she whispers. "You got a rubber?" She asks with wide doe eyes and a sarcastic pout. He could've sworn his heart stopped right then and there. Composing himself he lets out a breathy chuckle and nods silently, reaching into his own pencil case and pulling out a crisp white rubber, the small item barely used. He passes it to her and she smiles gratefully, quickly erasing whatever it was that she messed up and chucking it back to him hastily, the small rectangular object bouncing on his desk.
He smiles, continuing to stare mindlessly into the back of the head of a pretty girl with wavy chestnut hair who was completely and utterly clueless to the fact that she already holds every single key to the multiple locks of his heart.
