Coffee & Nerves (boyxboy)

[6] This Has Got To Stop Happening

Why.

Why me.

I'm a good kid. I get good grades, I volunteer on occasion, I listen to my parents. Why do I always have to have Jack Summers ruining my day, literally physically blocking me, stopping me from continuing on with my day.

I don't know. I do know that I'm annoyed about it.

I don't know why I'm annoyed when a pair of hands is placed on my chest as Jack somewhat roughly pushes me away from him.

Why is he always so rude?!

I hate him, he is an awful human being and I will not give him the satisfaction of any type of apology for running into him or response to his actions.

Then why am I standing in front of him?

I don't know.

For some reason, I can't move.

I'm paralyzed.

He looks concentrated, looking me up and down in a way that makes it nearly impossible to not squirm and look away from the intensity of those hazel eyes.

But I'm determined. I've planned for this.

...kind of.

I meet his gaze straight on.

He now has a smug look on his face that makes me want to slap it right off of him. He crosses his arms, the lean muscles in them tightening.

"Tsk tsk." He grits his teeth together, giving me a disapproving look of disgust and hatred. "Just my luck, getting rammed by Hastings, again." The words rumble from his mouth in a low growl, coated in arrogance. It makes my hair stand on end.

Every part of my body is warning me to stay away from this boy. The erratic thumping of my heart, the shiver that goes down my spine, the goosebumps that rise like mountains meant to create a physical barrier between me and him.

But like I said, I can't move.

I don't know what could be so powerful that it would keep me standing here, despite all these warning alarms blaring through my brain.

Before I can find out, he rolls his eyes, turns on his heel and swaggers away to sit down.

As I also move to go take my seat, I decide I have to strategize. There's no way in hell that I'm going to let Jack Summers get the best of me or the final word in anything. Time to put on my game face.

The bell rings and the slam of the door being shut brings my eyes to focus on what my ears just heard.

My first impression of Mrs. Aspen is her lawyer-like appearance.

White silk blouse and black business attire contrasting with her red-rimmed spectacles, long thick curls bouncing wildly with each click of her pointed black heels that accompany every step.

Mrs. Aspen's first impression of me is of my game face. Whatever my game face is.

Probably not the ideal first impression.

Her eyes scan every face before her in the room. She barely even pauses for a moment to complete the action, yet her authoritative presense is so powerful it causes the students to straighten their backs. She has this aura about her that makes it seem as if she could reach out and catch a fly in her hand while still staring at us straight on.

She's only been in here for 10 seconds. She's that good.

The room is quiet. Most of the class is sitting, wide-eyed, oggling up at her. It's like they've been put under a spell.