Stranger

ch7

Friday used to be my favorite day.

I had the least number of classes that day, two classes of PE that were almost like a free time and a free period after lunch which meant visiting the library. Also the substitute hadn't come today. But that didn't matter anymore. You want to know why? Remember the test on Monday? Well, the professor decided today was the perfect morning to open our eyes with the results. As you can tell, I am not happy at all.

Ever since I laid eyes on the paper in front of me, it was enough for my day to go to hell. I was pissed. The thing that made me mad is because mock tests were never done the second week of school. And the professor had even put some questions that he had lectured before the break. Yeah, it was math and we weren't supposed to forget it, but I can't remember everything!

Storming out of classroom, I make a quick turn and walk to the cafeteria for lunch. Abby got to see first hand the change of my mood, so she didn't even try to approach me or stop me. She and I both knew that I needed some time to cool off and then I'd come to terms with everything.

I find Devon at our usual table as I walk briskly in the cafeteria. It had become a ritual that we eat lunch together and he hadn't complained for me joining him during the week at all. Also, our bickering had subsided. We still went back and forth, but it seemed like each day we would argue less and less. It was like we were understanding each others buttons and tried avoiding them. This made me happy.

He was different than the others, it was something I was sure of. How, I still hadn't figured out, but I didn't mind it. In fact, it was somewhat refreshing. Devon was smart and mature, well, more than other teens and his good looks didn't go unnoticed. Girls still looked his way, but he never paid attention, something he didn't even bother. It made me feel proud of myself that I had moved past that stage and was now considering him as a friend. Not a close one yet, but a friend never the less.

Plopping down on the chair, I throw my backpack to the side and lean back as I cross my arms. Devon finally raises his head and glances my way, his chicken sandwich (yup, that's right) still unwrapped in front of him. He arches his eyebrow at my scrunched up face, amusement evident on his own. Today he's put his hair in a bun and it really distracted my thoughts for a second. The bad boy can really work a bun.

"Who is getting buried today?"-he asks and my mind snaps back to his words and away from his hair. Something seriously is wrong with my obsession with his hair.

"What?"-I question with a frown.

"You look like you're planning a murder. If looks could kill, yours right now would fucking do just that."-he says leaning back.

"How about you eat your food and play on your phone like you always do."-I snap at his observing skills that are always on point. 

His mouth quirks up a bit at my words, the same amount it always does, not a fraction higher. I do find myself wondering sometimes how he'd look if he'd actually smiled for once, an honest smile on his face.

"Another jock rubbed you wrongly?"-he asks leaning back on his seat.

"Are you trying to make the murder list?"-I say as I narrow my eyes at him.

"Avoiding questions?"-he jabs.

"Asking too much?"-I jab back.

Devon looks at me for a moment before shaking his head in disappointment.

"A week of spending lunch time with me and you already are acting like me. I didn't expect for you to worship the shit out of me." His words really take me by surprise, but as I let them sink in, I lean forwards with a grin on my face, my anger forgotten all at once.