the latter | andrew clark ✅

nineteen

"So, Jamie," the counselor starts, trying to gain the girl's attention. Unsurprisingly, she doesn't, the girl finding the dry blood on her bandages more fun than being placed into an assigned box by a know-it-all counselor. "Jamie, can you look at me?"

She decides to bite, looking up at the lady. They've met so many countless times yet Jamie still can't remember her name. "Yeah?"

"How has life at home been?" There's a softness in her voice that seems to be as fake as her hair.

"You know, the usual," she shrugs, diverting her attention to her hand again. She scratches mindlessly, feeling the scabs underneath the dressings get agitated.

"What do you mean 'the usual'?"

"The usual." At this point all of Jamie's answers are all on autopilot since her and whatever her name have had this conversation countless times.

"Can you put any more details in that?"

"No." She doesn't have to look at the counselor to know she has that same look of disappointment while a sigh passes her lips. "Look," she sighs, looking up at her. She can see the hope form in her eyes, but she pushes past it with ease, "this was fun..." she trails off, looking at her desk to find her name, "Ms. Simone, but I wanna get back to my second period. We're supposed to be murdering frogs." She gives a sly grin, one that's enough to get Ms. Simone to nod her head violently. "Good. Have a nice day, Ms. Simone."

She gets up out of the chair and out of the room as quickly as possible, letting the door slam behind her. When she stands in the empty hall, she allows herself a moment to breathe, taking in a heavy breath before exhaling, her grip tightening on her bag while she does so.

"Hey."

Her first reaction is to swing. Doesn't matter if it is a teacher, a student, or even John himself. She doesn't know who it is, and she cannot take chances. Especially with some of the people she's not on good terms with. As her eyes snap open, she watches her swing hit no one. Instead, whoever it is ducks and pushes her against the wall. They hold her in place, pinning her arms above her head. At this point, Jamie should be panicking, until she sees who it is. It makes an annoyed whine pass her lips.

"What do you want?" she whines, letting her head hit the wall with a soft thud.

"I was going to the bathroom. I can't stand the smell of the frogs," he gags, receiving an eyeroll in response. "Now I'm here because you swung at me."

"Do you know how many people want to beat the shit out of me right now?!" she loudly whispers. "I'm on edge okay?" A tired sigh passes her lips before she acknowledges the situation she's in, and how it would look to anybody who spots them. "You should let go. Someone could see," she mumbles, turning attention anywhere except the boy in front of her.

"What if I don't?"

"I can yell rape," she bluntly states, raising a brow at his antics. "Do you really want to try to provoke me right me?" Waiting a few moments, she sees that Andrew isn't budging, inching Jamie's anxiety higher and higher at how close he is. She can feel every breath he breathes. She can see the creases in his face. They're beneath his eyes from the little sleep he's been getting, the corner of his brows from where he gets angry at someone. She can even see the creases in his lips, and they have that soft pink tinge, and how- "What do you want?" she sighs, finding her heart beating too fast for her to handle.

"I want to take you out."

"To kill me?" She receives an eyeroll from her antics before he clarifies.

"Jamie Bender, I would like to take you out on a date tonight." He watches as Jamie's amusement gradually falls from her expression, one of confusion and doubt forming instead.

"You're not serious, right?"

"I am, though."

"But-" she bites her words, trying to find the right words. "We-" It seems nothing can come to mind except one word. "Why?"

"I want to get to know you more."

"You know enough," she emphasizes. "We fucked. That's all. I'm not doing this relationship thing right now."

"Gimme one chance." She can't tell if the sinking feeling in her gut is from fear or just nervousness. Probably both.

"And what?" she snaps, a devious grin on her lips. "You'll dump me when your friends find out you're fucking a pothead?" He can hear the pain etched into her words. She bites back her words once more, finding her anger fogging her senses. Taking in a heavy breath before exhaling, finding it hard not to just yell at him.

"I wouldn't do that, Jamie. Not to you." His voice is soft like his words, but it doesn't make her feel any better.

"Prove it." In an instant she can feel his lips on hers. Emotions flood her mind, making it hard to think properly. So instead, she pushes herself against him, placing her hands in his hair while his grab the back of her thighs, picking her up with little effort. She wraps her legs around her waist and she feels the wall she was leaned against disappear. Their lips detach for a moment, giving Andrew enough time to open the door to the janitor's closet and closing it behind them with the silent click of the lock.