Self-proclaimed Poet. (SEX EDUCATION - Maeve Wiley x Female Reader.)

Chapter 3: FLIPSIDE.

>> Written from the reader's POV. <<
⭒
Thursday 26th of March.
        You were sick of that tedious dial tone.
Where the hell is she?
You thought for a moment, wracking your brain for any kind of plausible explanation or conclusion. But, you were completely lost - this was so unlike her.
You rang her number again, for what must've been the forth time in the past fifteen minutes.
Whilst you darted through the halls with haste, desperate just to reach your locker. The abundance of incompetent students that seemed eager to block your path certainly weren't helping either.

"Maeve?!" You practically blurted down the microphone, upon approaching your locker at long last.

Quickly becoming aware of the rush of red that spread rapidly across your cheeks; a feeling of deep embarrassment shaking your entire frame at your false assumption.

"Fuck," You cured, stuttering slightly as you attempted to form a coherent sentence. "well that was embarrassing."

"I thought you'd finally answered." You explained, chuckling to yourself quietly - what an idiot.

"Guess I'm leaving a voice message now then."

"I'm um-" You let out, clearly unsure and not prepared at all. "I'm just calling to..."

"Maeve, where are you?" You asked with urgency, scrapping the previous failed attempts of explaining yourself. "I've just had the shit ripped out of me by Viv and Steve cause you're not here."

"So, like... you seriously owe me." You continued, frantically shaking your head - the genuine worry then beginning to breakthrough in your voice.

"I just," You sighed heavily into the mic, darting your head around the halls frantically as you heard the abrupt ring of the bell. "I hope you're okay."

You knew it must be time for assembly, as you witnessed students beginning to flee within seconds of the deafening sound.

"Can you like, call me back or even text me?" You practically begged, as you slipped your bag from your shoulders promptly - beginning to open up your locker. "Just something, please."

"I didn't mean to take the piss with you yesterday," You found yourself gushing, words just flying out of you at great speed. "I know you're probably sick of hearing about it..."

You were completely devoted to continue on with your pleads, but you were suddenly cut off upon catching Mr Hendrix glaring at you sharply - from the corner of your eye. You were definitely late by now and he damn well knew it. His arms were crossed purposely as he stood with a confidant stance in the middle of the hall before he began to take small, but steady steps towards you.

"Maeve," You practically whispered, shoving your books into your locker without any kind of care or organisation. "I'm sorry I've gotta go."

"Just, call me okay?" You finished, closing off the call immediately and slamming your locker closed - now face to face with Mr Hendrix who had a smirk painted on his lips.

"Assembly," He stated simply, picking up your backpack by one of it's straps and handing it over to you at a painfully slow pace. "now."

"Yes, sorry sir." You responded, throwing your bag over your shoulder and legging it down the hallway - without any thought of turning back, your feet had never moved so fast.