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You grumble, crossing your arms over your chest and leaning your chin on the uncomfortable, scratchy wood of the desk. You stare up at the supervisor at the front of the classroom– who was still standing and crossed his large, intimidating biceps over his chest.
It was 5:00 pm, and detention had started 30 minutes ago. It would last until 6– and you were stuck with a great group of people. There was a kid in the back who had half a glue stick shoved down his throat and a brooding girl who looked like she could shoot lasers out of her eyes and set the classroom on fire.
You sigh, trying not to focus on the ticking of the clock. It would be an endless reminder of the time you would waste, as the seconds pass by with the hands of the clock.
And what was worse, was that you were in detention for a stupid, stupid reason.
You had covered for him.
It wasn't you who was supposed to be in detention– no, it was that damn Sting Eucliffe.
And even worse, your spotless record would be ruined in your last year of high school because of a boy. A boy. Everything you have endured so far– the screams of alarms, the extra credit work, 8 am on a Saturday community service– ruined because you fell in love with a stupid jock.
Okay, maybe he wasn't stupid (there was currently a rumour going around that he got top marks in Physics and the science teacher is convinced he's a god) but certainly an utter dork. Different from the other jocks. He was strangely kind, but not in an outward manner. It was through his small actions: of how he would always re-stock the first aid kits in both locker rooms–
(Yes, even the girls. You'd caught him once filling the pink, stained box on the tiled wall with gauze after a senior called Mirajane hurt herself in volleyball. You said nothing but hid your smile behind your hand when you left).
–or how he always greeted everyone cheerfully, asking the librarian about her children who just entered preschool.
That wasn't how a jock was supposed to act.
You hadn't noticed these things until we were sophomores. It was also that time when he became handsome, devilishly so, with sculpted cheekbones framing slanted, sapphire eyes that looked like they could pierce your soul. You really hadn't ever noticed him after Elementary school when he stopped teasing you. When we were sophomores, Sting grew like a sprout from the ground- shooting up to 180 centimetres with ease. It had caught you by surprise– looking up at his towering figure with wide, (e/c) eyes when you accidentally bumped into him in the hallway.
Cccccccrashhh.
You snap upright and out of your reverie– back hitting the chair uncomfortably. A loud noise had just erupted not far from this classroom, and from the corner of your eye, you see glueboy choke on a white substance. Fun.
"Brats!" the supervisor roars, snapping out of his tense stance and thundering out of the classroom. You stare at the empty doorway in disbelief– what supervisor walks out of the room midway detention?
In fact, you were so stupefied by the action, you hadn't noticed a certain blonde high-schooler climbing through the window with ease.
"Hey."
You whip your head around to meet sheepish, navy eyes. Your own narrow– what did he want?
With an angry 'hmph', you turn back to the face the blackboard at the front of the classroom. He better apologize, you think, or else you're not talking to him until you graduate.
"...wanna get out of here?" he says, holding out a hand.
You turn back to him, furrowing your eyebrows. You eyes roam over his facial expression; he definitely looked guilty, managing only a small smile that tugged on the ends of his lips. You mulled it over, releasing that the supervisor wasn't coming back any time soon, as well as goth girl leaving the classroom and taking her phone with her.
"...okay," you reply tentatively, placing your cold fingers in his enveloping ones.
Without hesitation, he pulls you upright and you almost stumble as he slurs you towards the window. Thank goodness detention occurred on the first floor, or else you both would have fallen unceremoniously out of the window. With your crush.
You both stroll down the hallway, heading away from the direction of the noise. Because it was after school, the campus was quiet, a definite nice change: Sabertooth Academy was just as rowdy and competitive as their neighbours.
You came to a stop before the large oak tree, a popular lunch spot.
"I'm sorry for dragging you into my mess," Sting starts, and you notice he's still in his sports uniform. A large Sabertooth symbol is printed on his sleeveless jersey, wearing dark blue and black colours. "it wasn't okay asking you a favour like that."
You nod, but don't say anything. You waited for more from the jock- not entirely happy with his confession yet.
"You shouldn't have covered for me- and after this, I'm gonna go confess that I was the culprit and you were just acting on a favour. So... don't be mad?"
"..." I thought it over. "Fine."
His stressed features melted into a smile- like the sun breaking through the heavy clouds.
I grinned along with him, something itching in my heart. That same itch made me lift my heels, stand on the tips of my white sneakers, and slanted my lips over his. His mouth was warm and soft, and my hands landed on his shoulders.
I pulled back, opening my eyes and removing my hands from his tall height. Sting stared back at me, eyes wide and mouth unmoving.
"Wow," he whispers.
I cock my head to the side. "is that a good kind of wow?"
"Y-yeah, absolutely," his gruff, raspy voice the exact opposite of the words that poured from his lips.
We were silent for a moment.
"W- we should probably go back," he clears his throat awkwardly, choosing to look up instead of my eyes. "Rufus and Orga are keeping the supervisor busy, and we don't have much time before your detention ends, so..."
You smile widely. You knew he had something to do with that.
