Poptimist

Poptimist

  • WpView
    Reads 15
  • WpVote
    Votes 2
  • WpPart
    Parts 3
WpMetadataReadOngoing12m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Wed, May 3, 2017
Some people are optimists, some are pessimists, sometimes you need both. •-• Summer absolutely hates Chris Peterson guts. He might be funny and good looking but Summer sees right through that, to his other side. The annoying, obnoxious pestering side that won't leave her alone. And when you tend to be an optimist, some people just bring out your pessimistic side. •-• ""Does my little sun beam need me to cheer her up?" He whispered in my ear. I clenched my teeth and let out a breath mentally counting to ten to calm my self. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine... "Because you know" He paused "it would be my pleasure." He whispered his lips brushed against my ear as he whispered. "You little..." I slapped his arm and he let out a yelp, falling out of his chair clutching his arm. "Miss. Jenkins, Mr. Peterson do we have a problem?" Mr. Adams called from the front of the class. "No Mr. Adams." I called back as the bell rang signalling the end of class. Chris got and stood up, he gave me a pout still cradling his arm. "Oh you drama queen." I shot at him. "I'll be king, but you can be queen if you want." He winked, I brought my hand up to slap him again but he grasped my wrist quickly. "That called abuse sunshine, and its frowned apone." He lectured me. "I'm not your sunshine."" •-• Unedited! I may edit in the unforeseeable future...
All Rights Reserved
Join the largest storytelling communityGet personalized story recommendations, save your favourites to your library, and comment and vote to grow your community.
Illustration

You may also like

  • I hate that I love you
  • Connections | ✔️
  • Finding My Lost Self [to be edited]
  • Happy Hour (A Romantic Comedy)
  • The Boy ✔️
  • Heartbreak Season
  • Chasing You
  • Bully stepbrother
  • Saving Sebastian
  • His Sweet Lies

"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

More details
WpActionLinkContent Guidelines