About Us

Two

No Need To Be Rude

I watched as Sam paced back and forth, her arms crossed and her brows furrowed. "Samantha, what are you doing?"

"No," she suddenly snapped, turning to me. "Do you know just how much trouble you've got yourself into?"

"What?"

"Do you know just how much trouble you've got yourself into?" she repeated.

"What?"

"Do you-"

"Stop, okay," I said. "I wanted you to explain what you were trying to say, not repeat the question."

She nodded. "So as I was saying, you are in deep trouble. Did you know that you've just caused five times the mischief a girl in this campus could do? I may be exaggerating but, I tell you, it was a bad idea to do that to Tristan."

"You're lucky no one from this campus saw what you did," she added.

"So what if-"

"No, no, no, Drew. You don't understand," Sam cut in. "You are aware that Tristan is famous around the campus, right?"

I nodded. Tristan Russel is one of the most famous guys around our campus. Not only because he's part of the baseball team but also because, though I hate to admit this, he's handsome. Brown hair, stunning green eyes - he's got girls swooning over him, trying to seek his attention. I have no idea what else those girls saw in him nor do I have an idea why he pisses me off so much. He is egotistical, yes. He loved himself so much he had to ask people if he looked handsome all the time. Like what he did at the convenience store the other day. But aside from that, there was nothing else to hate about him. His presence just...ugh. I just hate him.

"Drew," Sam said, pulling me out of my train of thoughts. "Were you even listening?"

"Did you even say anything?"

She crossed her arms and shook her head. "Why are we friends?"

"Wait," I stood up. "I'll be right back."

I walked out of the classroom and went to where the lockers were located. I opened mine and all my books fell out, one almost hit my damn foot. "Holy shit."

"Clumsy," Tristan, whose locker was beside mine, mumbled.

"Shut up," I replied, bending down to pick up the fallen books. Tristan sighed and bent down, helping me gather the other books, but I swatted his hands away. "Get your hands off my stuff."

"Is something wrong with that head of yours?" he asked, continuing to gather the other books. He stood up and placed them inside my locker. "I just wanted to help, you know."

"I don't need your help," I answered, standing up and placing the other books inside my locker. "I never did."

"No need to be rude, Drew," he pressed his lips into a fine line, tucked his hands inside his pockets and began to walk away. Before turning to the corner of the hall, he glanced back and added, "You're welcome, by the way."