Figuring You Out

Chapter Six

"Here, idiot," I say, pushing a scrunched-up shirt into Liam's stomach, whilst fishing through my wardrobe for my tie.

"Boys, hurry the hell up!" a rather stressed out mother yells up to us.

"Coming Mum!" I shout back down, fumbling with my belt as Liam was tiredly attempting to make himself half presentable with his tie.

"Dude, hurry up. Fryday will have my guts for garters if I'm late," I threaten, throwing in various book to my bag and racing down the stairs with Liam quickly at my heel with our shirts still half tucked and Liam's hair still stuck up like a child's.

"Right, I have a meeting with the team at Gucci," Mum says, "So I will see you," she kisses my cheek, "later,"

I eyed the two slices of toast on the kitchen island whilst my rather tired looking father waits by the coffee machine, I silently eye communicated with Liam and soon the two amigos were sneaking up to te island. I watched Dad as he practically banged his head on the coffee machine when it stopped working and me and Liam took the opportunity to steal the toast. Dad turned at the sudden commotion and me and Liam shoved the toast in our mouths before he could say anything. We both give him our best smile, well, the best we could with a mouthful of toast, as Dad groans at his lack of breakfast. We turn to leave but Dad rather tiredly calls me back.

"Dad, I'm going to be-"

"Late, I know just keep in his good books today, I don't want another phone call especially with a hangover," he warns, I nod frantically and run out before warning us not the slam the door but we do exactly that because if someone especially your parents tell you not to do something you bloody do it.

"Ahh, Mr Chapman and Mr Walkers, what a shock," Mr Fryday taunts, he brandishes his pen, "Mr Gordon will catch you up I'm sure,"

I stroll to my seat slapping Dominic's hand on the way and sit next to the blonde yet again.

"What's the old drone going on about then?" I tease, getting my book out my bag. It's not until then I notice his shaky breathing, "You ok?"

He silently slips a note to Mr Fryday, who nods and leaves the classroom, "Sir, is he-"

"On your work, Chapman," he says, but it's not in his usual irritated way instead in a rather symapatheitic way. I nod quietly and get my head down on my work, but it's snapped back up again when he slips quietly back into the room giving a slow nod to the teacher at the front of the room.

"Errm, simultaneous equations," he mumbles, I keep my gaze on him, his cheeks rose tinted and eyes still glassy, I wanted to say something but decide against the idea.

"Yeah, bundles of fun," I breathe out, he smiles a little and then scrawles something down in his book, "Do you want to like, explain this to me?"

"Sure," he shrugs, he turns my blank book to him and raises an eyebrow at it, "It might help if you wrote down something," he chuckles lightly, before writing something in his own curved hand writing;

2x + 3y=20

6x+6y=80

"So, you have to make the y's the same, right?" he starts, and circles the two y's. I find myself smiling as his glasses fall down his nose, and his eyes flick with concentration.

"Oliver?"

"Yeah, sorry, go on,"

"So, what can you do to the three to make it a six?"

"Multiply by two," I say, he nods and writes it down, he finishes the equation and I understand. Kind of, "You'd make a great teacher, you know,"

"That's the plan," he replies quietly, "English Lecturer or Physics, I haven't quite decided yet," writing down something more in his book, I copy his actions.

"Good career," I comment lightly,

"Oh, I don't know, global sports star sounds pretty good," he replies, with a slight challenge, I smile curiously at his new tone, "Your talents are esteemed, even to me,"

"Well, thanks," I say, unsure how to reply without sounding like an arse to that.

"Red, have you finished?" Mr Fryday, asks quietly, leaning over our desk.

"Yes, sir," he replies, turning his book to our maths teacher and we both watch as he ticks the answers without really looking at them. He walks away after setting Red extra work, with his hands held behind at the back of his dulling suit. I turn back to Red and I can't help but smile at his concentrating face and I think I'm falling in the worst possible way; I think I'm falling for him. The closeted rugby player falling for the openly gay school nerd.