It's Us Against the World

It's Us Against the World

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Thu, Mar 15, 2012
“You know people asked me if I felt any different after you left.” I say and watch his eyes stare back into mine. “I’m not proud of what I told them, but I said it over and over, countless of times as if I was trying to believe it too.” I looked down, peering closely into my mug of coffee. “I told them that it hardly felt like it even happened. And that was a complete lie.” I looked back up to Peter now and saw that he was still staring at me, just like he used to. “The problem with me, Peter, is that I’m used to having everything planned and ordered. But then I met you and it suddenly was fun again, like I was still a kid.” “Why are you telling me this?” He asked me, his voice hinting at the fact that he was uncomfortable. His eyes were no longer on me and he was just staring at the menu on the table next to us. “I have a point, trust me, I do.” I said, then cleared my throat. “The point is, for the time that I was with you, I could be whoever I wanted to be. I had a choice for once.” “You told me yourself, Remy, that everyone had to grow up at some point and that it was your time to do just that. Don’t you remember that night? It was what, two months ago?” “I was wrong,” I told him, knowing this would spark his interest. “Like many things in the past year, I was wrong.” There was a silence that just stood between us. The kind of silence that is obvious to everyone in the room and is too daring to say anything about. “But above everything, we weren’t wrong Peter.” I paused. “We were just not as perfect as everyone wanted us to be.”
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"What do you want?" I snap, slamming my locker shut. His casual smirk, messy dark hair, tan skin, strong arms, eerie storm-grey eyes... the list could go on of things I notice- that I shouldn't notice- about him. "Oh, I want a lot of things." He inspects a speck of dirt on his arm. "I'm sure you've heard the news?" His eyes flicker back up to meet mine. Does he know? No. He can't. So I roll my eyes. He can't know that I know, that I would do anything to be the first one he tells. "You'll have to be more specific." I mutter, trying to look casual as I inspect my nails. "Well, it involves a certain title of the swim team," He offers. I shrug. "So you got captain. That's cool. And what do I have to do with that?" He narrows his eyes, trying to read my expression. Unfortunately for him, I have mastered the art of hiding my emotions. "This is what I wanted to talk to you about. During English," He fiddles with his sweater sleeve. "I recall you trying to talk to me," I frown. "Well, I..." He swallows, seeming... nervous? "I'm not doing too great... subject wise. And if I don't pick up my ass soon, I might be forced to quit." He rubbed the back of his neck, making his shirtsleeve slide up his arm to reveal a strong bicep. Not that I notice. I narrow my eyes. "And what do I get back in return?" I cross my arms. I'm going to be late for the bus if we don't hurry. He studies my face. "Name your price." He mirrored my position. I sigh. Money... but I don't need it. Popularity... but I don't want it. I meet his gaze steadily. He lifts his chin, the tiniest bit, but it doesn't intimidate me. I square my shoulders and stand up straight. He's only just taller than me. "Stop pretending to be perfect." All rights reserved. Cover art by me :) but will probably be redone soon

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