The Girl With The Gloves

Language

"Aaliyah, You're late. Again. Why?" I ignore the teacher's use of my first name and take a look around the class. About half of the class is knocked out. I snicker before turning my attention back to her.

"I was feeding the hungry." I say, truthfully. If my seven year old brother counts as the hungry. In my book he does. She raises an eyebrow.

"Oh really?"

I shrug. "My brother wanted his chocolate chip pancakes."

Again, I'm telling the truth. Mickey practically begged me to make his all time favorite food, we have it almost every morning, even though I like blueberry pancakes better.

Ms. Burk raises another eyebrow. "Why couldn't your parents feed him?" I glare at her.

"Just give the damn detention slip." I grumble walking over to her desk in the front of the class room. I put my head down so that my hair creates a curtain between me and the world. Something I don't do often. I can practically feel her glaring at me. I think she hates me.

Oh well.

"Language, Aaliyah." She hands me the piece of paper making sure to pass me a disapproving look. I roll my eyes, turning and walk to my desk. Teachers these days.

Placing my hands on my desk and looking her dead in the eye I say, "Maybe next you call me Allie and I'll actually give a fuck about what you just said." I sit down in my seat, running my temples.

Language my ass.

~°~

"What do you mean you got a detention?" I turn around from my locker, sighing.

"I mean, I got a detention for 'profanity and tardiness'." Both of my best friends shake their heads.

"Really Allie? On Friday?" Sam, my best boy friend, says. I roll my eyes as we walk into the cafeteria.

"What? She asked for it." I turn around walking backwards and am just about to say something else when I back into something hard. It's not until it stumbles that I realize that it is a someone rather than a something.

'Nice going, Allie, so graceful', My conscience states sarcastically.

I close my eyes waiting for my butt to hit the floor. Except it doesn't. Immediately my mind registers the hands on my waist and turn around to see a boy around six foot with light hazel eyes, messy black hair and a sleeve tattoo of two girls faces, one slightly older than the other , with light pink roses all around them.

His mom and sister, maybe?

He's muscular, but not in a 'I take steroids for food' kind of way like I'm used to. His face is decorated with small freckles and he has a chiseled jaw, and a small nose . He's wearing a simple black tee that clings tight in all the right places and a pair of dark wash jeans with some slightly worn sneakers.

In other words he's gorgeous. I look up at his eyes and blush realizing I'd been staring for a while.

"Sorry, I didn't see you..." I trail off tilting my head to the side. He looks vaguely familiar. I snap my fingers as a picture of him sitting in the back of my English class half awake enters my memory. "Hey, you're in my English class. Adrian, right?"

He sighs, nodding and I take step back preparing to leave. I point behind me to my usual lunch table, where my so called friends are sat.

Thanks for leaving me behind guys.

"I'm going to go, sorry again, for you know...bumping into you." I say again, turning around and walking away, pretending not to feel his gaze practically burning holes into my back.