He generously walked me to my door that night, one arm awkwardly curled around my neck in an attempt to keep me sheltered from the heavy rain that made an appearance as we drove home from the a Cherry Cafe.
My thoughts and judgement were changing drastically. My mind was a whirlwind, unsure of what my opinion of him was. He was so many things. Caring. Interesting. Mysterious. Cocky. And every part seemed to make me like him more.
I sighed, staring at the whiteboard only seeing a jumble of letters instead of words. My brain wasn't functioning today.
"Thinking about me?" He whispered, his breath hitting the side of my neck, startling me. My eyes shot to his, as I felt a flood of heat rise from my neck into my cheeks.
"In your dreams." I scoffed and turned away to the window, swooshing my hair towards my right cheek.
We were in Art, a theory lesson on Franz Marc that, quiet frankly, was boring the hell out of me. Miss Woodlie was away, so we were left with the dreaded subtitute, Mr Colins, who I had just recently found out was the worst teacher in the history of subtitute teachers.
Mr Colins recited quickly and quietly to himself as he looked at the Art text book infront of him then back up to the board. His round, golden, vintage glasses were perched on the bridge of his nose, where he could look down to all of us over the top of his glasses with a glare full of hatred anytime someone spoke.
Hence why conversation between Cole and I had been minimal since yesterday at the Cafe. Not to say he hadn't tried to talk to me only to be shut down by Mr Colin's repeatedly.
I sat on the edge of my seat, waiting desperately for the bell to ring as I watched the time slowly tick on by.
I felt awkward sitting next to Cole for such a long time. Apparently his parents never taught him about personal space as he didn't seem to care that he took up half of my room.
Finally, Like music to my ears, the bell rung signalling the beginning of lunch.
I fled from my seat ignoring the dismissible from Mr Colin's, desperate to flee from the immense unusual amount of awkwardness that possessed the Art classroom.
Shuffling my way through the crowded halls, I finally found the Cafeteria. Glancing around, the chatter filled my ears as I spotted Emma and another girl sitting at a table with both our lunches.
I strolled over, throwing my bag down and flopped into the plastic chair across from them.
"This whole...high school thing, is weird." I stated as a chomped on a fry.
Emma laughed, slouched over the table with her blonde hair pulled back. "Yeah, I guess it is."
Her eyes were tired and worn, like she'd been dealing with something all night and got little to no sleep.
The girl who's name I was yet to know laughed in sync with Emma, then spoke. "Your not used to high school?" She inquired, her incredibly curly, black hair pulled into a bun.
My eyes shot to Emma, pleading for help with the answer. Shit shit shit! How do I get myself into these things?!
"I..uh.." I tried. Why aren't I used to high school? I fretted, unable to think of an answer.
"She was homeschooled up until now." Emma cut in, saving my life.
"Wow. I've never known someone who was homeschooled. I'm Andrea by the way." She smiled, projecting her hand across the table for me to shake.
"Anna." I smiled, releasing my grip on her hand.
"How have you been going in your classes?" Emma questioned, munching on a carrot stick.
YOU ARE READING
Damn Straight, Your Highness
Teen Fiction"Drop it." He said. "You drop yours." My voice wavered. The light glimmered on one side of his face, the rest engulfed with darkness. Somewhere behind the barrel of his gun, I could see the pain in his eyes, the betrayal. I was on the verge of tea...
