Teenage Troubles (Prequel for Teenage Baby)

Chapter 16 | Aaron

Chapter 16 | Aaron

Aaron couldn't hold eye-contact for too long (because he totally wasn't insecure). But when he did, in that split second he'd notice that people generally looked at his eyes, not him. Even though his eyes were part of him. So that didn't make sense, did it?

Aaron wouldn't be surprised if it didn't. It wasn't like he ever made sense. A series of contradictions, that was all he thought he was.

Presently, someone was looking at his eyes, or him, or whatever—it made him uncomfortable regardlessly.

"God, your eyes are so beautiful, do you know that?"

Aaron forced a smile. He'd be an arrogant jerk if he said yes, an idiot trying to seem "humble" if he said no. Ninety-nine percent of the compliments he'd ever received were about his eyes and he still didn't know what to say. His social skills were definitely a strong point.

"Yeah, um, thanks."

The girl in front of him kept staring. "Can I keep staring? Just a little bit."

No, no you can't. Get the hell out of my face, Aaron thought. He said, "I... I mean, if you want to? I just—" he pointed over his shoulder "—need to leave... soon."

She smiled. "Don't worry, dude. I'm not gonna actually do that, I don't wanna creep you out."

"You already did."

She'd begun walking away but she turned and looked at him again. "What?"

"Nothing." Aaron smiled. You'd think he was the happiest person alive. The mastery of pretending was possibly the only thing he was good at.

She left again. Aaron breathed out as he turned but two steps past his spot and a boy one year older than him appeared by the corner, arms spread out grandly.

"There's the pretty boy!" the boy said. He ambled closer, brow raised and eyes daring. He cornered Aaron against his locker and caught his chin, lifting it so he could look at his eyes like they were an item to buy. "We should find another name for you. You're not actually pretty. And I have no idea what the hell all the girls like about your eyes. They're hideous."

Aaron put a hand on his chest. "I'm hurt."

The boy—leader of the rebellious group of edgy guys who thought they ruled the school—snorted out a derisive laugh. "You should be."

"I am."

"What a snowflake."

"You're just too good at hurting my feelings." Aaron pushed his hand off and tried squirming away. "Now if you need me, I'll be in the bathroom crying. But shhh please don't tell anyone."

The boy cut Aaron's way off by crossing an arm over, fingers splaying out against the locker. He intended to continue bothering him but the principal rounded the corner so he calmly took a step back from Aaron.

"I'll have to finish this later. You're a lucky one, Aaron."

"Only if you say so." Aaron turned nonchalantly and walked towards the entrance of the school. In reality, he'd shit his pants at the thought of how physically weak he was compared to those boys but he wouldn't show them. Sarcasm was a coping mechanism for him. They'd bother him no matter what he did.

Just as he was about to step outside, a hand gripped his arm, pulling him back. Erika. Aaron turned to her, shaking his head questioningly. "What?"

"Nothing. Did he bother you?"

Aaron faced away. "No, don't worry."

Erika knew better than anyone that he wouldn't outright tell her. She dropped it. From the corner of eye, she caught the side profile of the girl who'd talked to Aaron. "What was that girl saying?" She raised her brows at her.