A Bleacher Boy's Perspective (BoyxBoy)

Chapter 12

"I swear I was telling you the truth when I said I'd respect your space." Derek slid into the seat beside me, his green eyes piercing like daggers into my own, silently pleading for me to believe him. I quickly averted my gaze knowing full well that I couldn't afford to fall into them again. "I told him not to volunteer and leave you alone but he just kept insisting. Do you believe me?" He continues, mumbling the last part, his tone laced with doubt.

I stare ahead, contemplating my answer. I think back on the tension between the two of them earlier and how upset he seemed after Nathan volunteered their group. "I know." I finally admit, sighing into my hand as I fiddled with my pencil in the other.

"You...do?" He wiggled in his seat, sitting up straighter, his face contorting in uncertainty as if he was waiting for me to change my mind.

"Yes, Derek I do." I chuckle. It was slightly unnerving to see someone I had placed on such a high pedestal look so rattled. It had never occured to me that people as successful and attractive as Derek Williams were capable of feeling doubtful or insecure too.

"But that doesn't mean I'm not mad about the situation." I clarify, clearing my throat in the hope that it may mask the quiver in my voice.

The corners of his mouth tugs upwards into the crooked smile that I've learned to know so well. It was a classic grin that read like the title of a book "I can see right through you" It should be noted that whatever conclusion Derek thought he had reached was completely and utterly false.

"I'd be surprised if you weren't." He teased, recovering his confidence. "But I'm not complaining. You know, if I'm being completely honest." And I don't know how he did it but I felt my entire body freeze by his words, immobilized by whatever secret super power he must be using against me.

My eyes darted to underneath the table where I watched his knee gradually edge towards me until it finally touched mine. Instead of moving away like I expected him to he leaned into my touch. I could feel the denim of his jeans rub against my bare skin whenever he shifted. I could feel every movement he made and every atom that had combined together to make Derek Williams: I was that hyper-aware of his presence. I mentally cursed myself for choosing to wear shorts today.

"Neither am I." I word-vomited, desperate to just say something. Anything. Could anyone really blame me for not being able to think straight when he was so unbearably close? As much as I disliked Derek no one could accuse me of being blind.

His smile widens so much I feel like I'm waiting for his face to crack. If I wasn't hallucinating I'd even say his eyes may have perked up too. It takes my brain a fraction of a second too long to compute the implication of my thoughtless words. As realization struck, I reached for my throat, grasping it as if it were rapidly collapsing in on itself, depriving me of oxygen.

"No!" I shout, completely forgetting about the prying eyes and eavesdropping ears that infested Elwood High. As though it was orchestrated all the heads in the classroom snapped in our direction in an almost fluid, synchronized motion in anticipation of front row seats to the latest gossip material featuring football quarterback Derek Williams and the all-star failure Michael.

My face flushes beet red in embarrassment at all of the sudden, unwanted attention. Turning away from the startled turned expectant faces I duck my head downwards using my hand for cover as if not being able to see them might make them disappear.

"That isn't what I meant." I whispered, eyeing the clock on the wall behind him. Five minutes. Five minutes were standing between my freedom and Derek.

"What are you talking about?" He laughs in bemusement effectively shaking me from my thoughts of escape.

"I meant it literally. I'm not complaining I'm not..." I trail off. What if I was the one misinterpreting his meaning?

"Not that you were overwhelmed by happiness that we'd get to spend more time together?" He offers, smirking.

"Definitely not that!" I flush.

"So you're not happy that we get to work together?"

"No! I mean, yes...A hundred times yes! I want space from you!" I sputter, flustered. Why was I gifted such a big, fat, traitorous mouth?

"Wanted." He corrects.

"What?"

"You wanted space from me. Past-tense."

"Ah, I'm afraid the Mr. Perfect streak has ended. The feeling is still very present and strong." I quip.

For a brief moment he only smiles. Then, he shifts, slowly as if to give me a chance to move away if I wanted to, so that his lips hover just behind my left ear. My breath hitches but I don't move away. "Liar." He says huskily into my ear.

All I could think to do was stare, open-mouthed and completely stunned. Maybe if I looked long enough and hard enough I could figure out the puzzle Derek Williams had presented me with. Was he purposefully screwing with me? Was it all just a game to him? Or even more terrifying, did he actually mean what he was implying? I didn't get much time to ponder over it, however, before Nathan plopped himself on the other side of me. He looped his arm around my shoulder and dragged me into his side, pulling me into a headlock.

"Mikey, buddy." He grinned mischievously, ruffling my hair.

"Don't call me that. I'm not your buddy and I loathe you." The nickname felt wrong rolling off of his devil tongue. I growl, shaking him off of me. Nathan has some nerve pretending to be friendly to me.

"Ouch! You've wounded me." He clutches his chest, feigning pain.

"Are you done?" Derek interrupts with venom, eyeing Nathan closely and suspiciously. My eyes danced back and forth between them. I had never witnessed Derek act with animosity towards anyone much less one of his friends from the football team.

The two of them must have shared a telepathic connection. Various facial expressions flashed between them in a conversation I was too slow to follow or decipher. Whatever the conversation was it definitely wasn't friendly.

"Yeah." Nathan drawls, obnoxiously chewing a wad of gum in the corner of his mouth. He turns to face me again and grabs my shoulder. This time he grips it too hard for me pry off. "We'll talk later. Just the two of us Michael."

I didn't say anything, just stared until his grip on my shoulder went lax and he rose from his seat.

Neither one of us broke the silence until Nathan had returned to the front of the classroom where he straddled one of the chairs beside a girl I assume he was trying to flirt with. He was preoccupied. For now.

"Michael." Derek says sternly his tone verging onto authoritatively. Like when my father spoke, I felt inclined to sit still and listen attentively. "Stay away from Nathan. Especially if you're alone."

I raise my eyebrows skeptically. Did I seem like I was just dying to spend time with Nathan, King of the Dummies and oh yeah guy-who-threatens-to-beat-me-within-an-inch-of-my-life? Instead of the thousand snarky comments that instantly come to my mind in that moment I settle for, "Huh?"

"Michael, I'm serious. Stay away from him." He warned darkly.

"Do you know something I don't?" My eyes narrowed.

Derek's gaze briefly raises to my forehead where a small bump had formed after the accident at the bleachers. It was so insignificant I had forgotten it was there. It didn't even hurt. But the way that Derek was looking at it you would have thought I was bleeding profusely. He looked absolutely livid.

"I know for certain he's hurt you at least once before. I'm not going to just wait for it to happen again." He abruptly rose from his seat, the metal chair legs screeching against the tile, and stalked off. The high-pitched bell shrilled in the background signaling the end of the day.

What...just happened?