I walk into english angrily, slamming my backpack on the floor and sliding into my seat. The stares become unbearably disturbing and I want to scream or punch the desk or drink until I can't stand. Something to get my mind off this bullshit.
Instead I grab a blank piece of paper from my binder and begin to draw. It slowly becomes a figure of a girl, falling apart and pieces of her flying into the sky, shaped as butterflies. As I'm shading the last part of her hair, the bell rings.
I'm the last out of the door and I see Adam standing outside, obviously waiting.
"You have no idea what you got yourself into." He says, and I push my way past him and down the stairs.
He catches up to me panting. "Why do you even like her? You could hang with me and my friends, play football, go to parties and have fun in high school. Instead you chose Ashford."
It takes all I have not to punch this asshole in the mouth, but I can't leave February waiting at my truck. "Here's what I don't understand. I'm supposed to just waltz in here and hang out with people I don't like and do shit I don't like, all to be popular? I don't get why you care so bad Adam, fuck you. Worry about yourself, and if you talk to me one more fucking time, especially about her, I'll beat the shit out of you. Understand?" I whisper harshly to him and make my way past him, hopefully fast enough to lose him.
I see February sitting in my truck already, I give her the keys in the morning so she won't have to wait, since her class is much closer to the parking lot. I climb in and she's quickly trying to wipe the tears from her face and I'm quick to grab her hand and interlock our fingers.
"We're leaving." I say. "All day. I'll have my mom call and excuse us saying I'm very sick and so are you, so I drove us both home."
"Is that where we are going?" She says, eyes wide.
"Oh no," I reply. "I want to take you out so we can forget about all this bullshit." I gesture to the school buildings we are pass.
"Thank you." She breathes, squeezing my hand.
"Anything for you." I whisper to her.
YOU ARE READING
3am
Short Story"It's 3am and all I want is your lips on mine. It's the same as yesterday at 7pm, or Thursday at noon. It's the same as every hour, every minute, every second since I met you." #26 in Short Story.
