Hush

Chapter 11: Bitter Cherry

A/N: It seems like Wattpad fucked the chapter up at some point so now I have to repost it to fix that. Jfc

Over the last few days, I've been moving my position strategically on our lunch table to be able to see John from the perfect angle. Which, yeah it does sound kinda creepy, I'm aware, but if I'm not next to him at least I can provide him metal company by staring at him..? Does that make sense? (It doesn't, because it's just a cheap excuse. I just want to look at his handsome face without having to imitate a giraffe which by the way, can have necks as long as six feet according to John). From here in my new place besides Kitty and Meade I can even kinda see what he's eating.

And today's menu is spaghetti with tofu. I snort. Gross, I adore this weirdo.

As a stare at him, for a split second his hazel irises wander up and our eyes meet. I can faintly see his face gradually turning red which makes my heart do a little breakdance. To add a cherry on top of the cake, I wink at him before breaking eye contact.

What the fuck am I going?

Just as I start to panic, my phone buzzes in my pants and I feel like the air got locked inside my lungs. I can't exhale, I'm too scared of. Is it John? Did I make him uncomfortable? Angry? With a slightly trembling hand I reach for my cellphone and pull it out slowly, not really wanting to see the notification that will pop on in the screen. Eventually, after some more seconds of so very desired stalling, I turn the screen on and with the braves face I have, look at it.

Oh.

It's just Cornelia Lott (well isn't this awkward).

Cornelia is a girl from my literature class. She's as witty as a spark and fairly attractive, with eyes as dark as the nighttime ocean. Just my type. We exchanged numbers with intentions that couldn't exactly be classified as innocent but now I find myself writing to her less often every day. Honestly, I had sort of forgotten we were even friends (who flirted). I've never hesitated to start a fling with someone I like, but now I can't really find myself interested in her anymore. The sweet smelling candle flickered out and now only wax and the smell of smoke remain in its place.

And no matter how much deny it, excuse it, and ultimately despise it, I know it's because of John. Because of his smooth honey-like voice and golden brown skin. Because of his hazel eyes I'm usually not a fan of but he somehow has made me love. Because of his untamable curls and sculpted arms and the way I know he could tower over me if he wanted. Because lately, I've been wanting John Laurens and nobody else.

A million incomparable beauties could pass before my eyes and I'd still be dazzled enough to consider John the most stunning of them all. I'm cursed, infected by the bittersweet poison that is attraction.

I settle by sending back a meager "Hi :)" and return my phone to my pocket, hoping Cornelia isn't feeling particularly chatty today.

Not wanting to risk my eyes to wander toward John once again, I decide to actually start listening what my friends are talking about, and smile because apparently Meade too has found a sweetheart by the name of Elizabeth Randolph (make that the third Elizabeth I know).

•••

As I approached the back of the school I sent Lafayette my usual text and pocketed it to probably not take it out for a while. I don't really have time for my phone when I'm with John, there's just so much to ramble about. When I got there I realized that unusually, John was already there. My step faltered slightly at the pleasant surprise but I kept on walking like a normal, functional human being.

"Hey, J!" I call him, the nickname slipping out of my tongue before I can even register it.

He turns toward me startled, as if he hadn't realized I was here. "Alexander," He breathed. Once second he was meters away, and the next time I was conscious of my surroundings I was on his arms. "Thank you," He mumbled.

"For what?" I ask as I bathe in the temporary bliss of being in his arms.

Gosh, this arms. If only he would wear tight shirts am I right?

"The project, I–" He steps away slightly and I internally mourn the loss of his embrace, but I get over it as soon as I see his smile, so big his dimples even poke out to say hi. "We aced it."

I jump a little. "That's great! I told you, we make a wicked team,"

He hums. "We do," In that moment, his face relaxes and I pause for a second to take him in. The bruise from the fight he had still faintly circles his eye meanly, now accompanied by purple-ish eye bags. His curls brush against my face gently and from this close, his freckles even look kinda cute.

"You haven't been sleeping," I comment instead of reciting the prose building up in my chest. Without really meaning to, my hand drifts up and with my thump I caress the skin under his eyes so faintly the touch might not even be there. But John still finches, and yet he makes no move to push me away.

"It's nothing," John says and I frown. What does he mean by nothing?

"If it's affecting you then it's something," I argue but he doesn't listen.

He makes an off handed comment like his health was no matter and pulls away, ending the moment (if it even was a moment at all. I might have imagined the entire exchange in my enamored delusions).

"I'm fine, Hamilton." He says with an artificial smilie as he walks over Brutus, who's wagging his tail contently, unaware of the tension. But I don't believe John's words or his lips.