My Ride or Die

Chapter 7

Jenny

Does Cupid hate me? Why is he punishing me with this boy? I mean, he's cute. But a toxic cute. I looked over at him. Why was I still holding on to his hand? I immediately let go and blushed. I'm an idiot.

He just stared at me as he continued to follow me and keep up with me. I took him to Literature, the cafeteria, Calculus, Astronomy, and Government. "These are your classes," I said. "I wrote the names of the closest stairwells along each side of the room on the paper. It looks like we have Lit and Lunch together. Should be fun," I said smiling.

I handed him the paper and smiled. He continued to stare, like he was lost in my eyes.

Oh who am I kidding? He was probably just thirsty. Ugh. "I'll...uh...see you around," I said. He finally snapped out of it. He didn't say a thing. Just shook his head and walked away. Say something, douche! "Your welcome?", I whispered annoyed, as he left.

I walked away and went to my homeroom and signed in, then to band. After our usual morning rehearsal, it was first period. Great. The douche will be there.

...

And as if this day just can't get any worse...

...

The motherfucker is sitting right behind my desk. Oh for God's sake!

A biker buddy of his sat right behind him and they both eyed me. A typical annoyance. "Hey there, pussycaaaaaat," the idiot behind him purred.

"Michael, leave her alone," he said. "Please, have a seat babe."

I raised a brow and pulled my desk away from him and sat. I set my Canterbury Tales down and crossed my arms. His cologne was a poisonous gas. It crept into my nostrils and possessed the raging sexually deprived teenage girl hormones and seduced me. To have his giant hands run down my curves and caress-

...

I silenced those thoughts in my head and sat up straight when the teacher walked in.

Mr. Mathews was a DILF not doubt. Good thing he wasn't married or a father, because then fantasizing about him wouldn't make me feel so guilty.

He rolled up his sleeves where you could see the dragon tattoo run up his arm.

STOP

We're here to learn, dammit. Chaucer deserved a reading. And perfect. It's a love scene. Cupid must really wanna fuck with me.

"Now, from our last night reading, in lines 15-21 on chapter 45, what do we think Chaucer is saying?"

"This guy is gonna get some punaniiiiiiii!", a dumbass in the back shouted.

Mathews gently smiled and looked down, perhaps questioning why he even teaches literature to a bunch of uncultured heathens.

"Well, um...there is certainly some sexual references. But Chaucer, like many authors, strives for something more than just sex. There's a bigger picture."

"Perhaps love?" I said as I raised my hand.

"Sure," Mr. Mathews said. "Love. The idea of love. The fire it breeds in our bellies, the passion that burns throughout our blood."

His words were like honey. He had long hair. I believe he could've been of Greek or Mediterranean decent. Tall, dark and hands-

LOVE. THAT IS THE THEME. FOCUS.

"It's not about love," I heard a voice behind me say. I turned around. "He uses satire to make fun of society and religion and how it fails the people."

Mathews smiled and clapped his hands. "Well, there uhhh..." he said as he looked at his roll sheet. "Mr. Woodrow. Very nice job reading."

I looked confused. "Not to discredit your idea, Miss Baker," he said to me. "But Woodrow points out a good point."

"I beg to differ," I said as I crossed my arms. "Chaucer had a terrible marriage and implemented his desires for love within the affairs the men had with mistresses."

Mr. Mathews enjoyed to our literary debate. He leaned back on his desk and sipped his coffee in amusement.

"Point out to me where you think Chaucer speaks about love," Mathews said.

I began to flip through my outline to not embarrass myself in front of the class. "It's here somewhere, I know it...I know I wrote it. I-

"And on the word he caught her by the flank and clasped her closely, giving her a riot of kisses and saying softly, 'keep things quiet," his husky voice said. He had recited the quote from his head. Well I'll be damned.

"You know what," he said. "She may be right. If there is evidence to prove two points, so be it," he said as he leaned back in his seat. The rest of the class stunned.

A new kid that would dare challenge the favorite student? No one has even challenged me with their opinions of the novel. Hell! no even reads the novel that Mathews gives us.

Mr. Mathews smiled and laughed. "Now, now students. Let's move on to Shakespeare. Cleopatra...", he began then descended.

I started to daydream about the boy behind me. "I'm seeing him everywhere" I said to myself. "Why? Why now? Why does he bother me? He can't possibly like me! I'm not his type."

Suddenly, I heard a pencil fall. I reached down to pick it up when I felt a soft hand hit mine simultaneously trying to pick the pencil up. "Oh, sorry," he said. I swallowed my shyness and picked it up. I gave it to him and turned around. I didn't open my mouth for the whole lecture, which was particularly odd.

New boy was spitting fire, however. Completely demolishing my reputation as the lit buff. I sat in my seat wallowing in self pity and in the shadow of his academic achievement.

Finally, lunch.

...

SHIT! FUCK! HE'S GONNA BE THERE TOO. U G H FUCK ME.