the alternate us

o12 | tickle fight

o12
tickle fight

I couldn't hold back the giggles that erupted from my lips.

We sat in Mr. Briggs' class, watching him intently as he taught the class halfheartedly. Maverick sat beside me per usual. He always sat next to me nowadays, even when he was annoyed with me and vice versa. Although he got on my nerves half the time and was constantly trying to test my limits, I kinda enjoyed his company. I figured the feeling was mutual seeing as he was the one who chose to sit beside me everyday. He even drove me home on occasion.

Today we had Mr. Briggs' class for our last period. As if the end of the day hadn't made us rowdy enough, both Maverick and I had noticed that Mr. Briggs' kept glancing in our direction. Today must've been the day that he'd noticed the Steve Buscemi pictures. He'd give us guilty looks as he tried paying attention to what he was teaching. Part of me felt bad, but I couldn't help but be amused by his flustered state. Mr. Briggs' definitely picked up on this, and would scowl at the two of us periodically. It didn't help that Maverick kept leaning in next to my ear to whisper jokes about how profusely our teacher was sweating either.

"I'm driving you home." Maverick whispered lowly, his voice sounding like background noise to everyone but me. His words rang loudly through me like a police siren.

I'd noticed that Maverick never really asked questions unless he was prying. If he really wanted something and was confident in himself usually he would just tell you. I could always say no, but I knew it'd be pointless. Besides, I didn't have to tutor Francesca today and it was snowing lightly again so I'd probably freeze out there if I walked.

"Okay."

Maverick smirked at my compliance and nodded in satisfaction before turning forward to face the teacher. I stared at his profile for a moment, observing the sharp edges in his jaw, and the structure of his cheekbones. I'd never seen his father before, but I figured he must've looked just like him seeing as he shared very little of his physical traits with his mother. I leaned my head into my hands and waited patiently for the bell to ring.

    "You just stared at me for sixteen seconds straight." Maverick shot accusingly as he faced me again, his focus lost.

    I smiled uncomfortably and shook my head in denial, "I looked at you for five seconds top, and I look at everyone." I defended myself as I tried to shield my cheeks.

     Maverick noticed this and smiled, which in turn, made me smile. It wasn't too often that he smiled or laughed when sober, so when he did it almost felt like a prize.

    "Sure Brinley, you keep telling yourself that." He ended ominously, standing as the bell rang. As he pushed off the table his biceps flexed, showing off his strong arms. I wondered how often he worked out...

    We began walking out of the classroom into a hallway flooded with people, "Do you ever stay after school?" I asked inconspicuously, having to walk down the hall in the direction of his locker because I knew he wouldn't follow me to mine.

    Maverick nodded, "I stay after almost everyday," he explained, "But lately I haven't been because I've been driving you home."

    I raised an eyebrow as he pushed past someone roughly, "I could always stay and wait for you. What do you do anyways?" I asked nonchalantly.

    He smiled and shook his head as though I were an amusing child. I wanted to ask him what that smile was for but refrained, "I stay to work out in the fitness center." He told me as he crammed stuff into his locker and slamme it shut. I flinched at the startling noise.