That Night

Chapter One

"I'm telling you, man, this season is going to be our best yet." There was a pause. "Dude, are you even listening?"

I felt a rough shove against my shoulder, knocking me back to reality – and nearly off my chair.

"What? Yeah, of course," I replied hastily, pressing my knuckles to my left temple in a feeble attempt to block my vision from what had been distracting me.

Harrison looked over my shoulder, searching for a moment before rubbing his forehead in disappointment. "You were staring at her again, weren't you?" he accused, shoving me again.

I smacked his hand away. "No, I wasn't," I retorted, getting ready to lie shamelessly through my teeth.

"You were. I know you were," Harrison rebuked.

"I wasn't," I almost shouted, getting worked up over the stupid lie like it was really the truth. "Drop it."

"No, I won't drop it. You like her. Just admit it." He gave me a stern look, his forehead creasing with his menacing stare.

He was wrong. I had no feelings for Juliet other than those of pure, platonic friendship. We were history buddies, acquaintances, friends, if I must admit. But there was nothing more, and there would be nothing more.

"I don't," I urged.

This wasn't the first time he'd accused me of liking her, and I was sick of it. What did I have to do to get it through his thick skull? Spell it out in frosting on his birthday cake? Get it tattooed on my ass? I do not like Juliet Taylor.

"You sure do get ticked off when I mention it, bro," he said, acting like he'd cornered me.

I rolled my eyes, huffing. "Yeah, that's because you mention it every ten minutes," I muttered, banging my fist against the table and drawing the attention of our other friends. I waved them off, sinking back in my chair.

"Whatever, Dash," Harrison replied, sighing as he shoved the last bit of his burger into his mouth. He then stood up, hearing the end-of-lunch bell ring, and picked up his tray.

As he walked over to the trashcan, I stood up and turned away from him, using my backpack as an excuse to peek at her again. I watched her as I leaned down. Her long, dark, braided hair was draped over one shoulder, loose strands falling into her face as she tilted her head down. She was attempting to pick up her backpack and put it on without tearing her eyes away from the book in her hand. Her eyebrows here crinkled in concentration. I chuckled softly as the book slipped from her hand when she swung her backpack onto her shoulder. Sheepishly, she glanced around as she crouched to pick it up, looking to see if anyone had caught her little fumble. It was then that she noticed me staring at her from a few tables away. She wasn't embarrassed, though, as she smiled widely and waved to me.

Praying that my friends weren't watching me, I waved back in the same, excited manner. She was always happy to see me, though I never understood why.

Juliet started mouthing something to me, a form of communication we had started when our history teacher had moved her to the other side of the classroom.

Why are you on the floor? she asked, reminding me that I had knelt down to pick up my backpack.

I snorted. Why are you?

Juliet blushed, holding up her book and replying: Touché.

"You coming, Dash?" Harrison's voice suddenly asked from behind me.

I shot up like I'd been caught red handed and spun around. "Yep," I replied, quickly covering my embarrassment before he noticed what was going on and reverting to my usual cool demeanor.