He continued to stare.
This cunt had the nerve to continue to stare.
God, the poor girl.
I don't understand why he looks at her everyday. Or why he walks 4 feet behind her to all her classes. Or why he watches her eat in the cafeteria, and jesus, now I've even memorised what she has for lunch.
Maybe I should ask.
Or maybe... maybe I should keep my mouth shut.
Then again, him and I were like a one-sided bull fight; I was angered by him and the way he watches that girl in class and the way he wears that fucking red polo shirt.
God, I hate that color.
I have this feeling that I should stay well away from that boy, but he makes me feel so discomposed and I don't know if I'm started to feel okay with that.
YOU ARE READING
Maybe
Teen FictionMaybe it was the look you always had in your eye when you were in class that made me hate you. Maybe it was the way I watched her run from you with fear. Maybe I should've taken your advice, layered in sticky notes which decorated my locker. Maybe...
