I saw him in that same spot every day.
Between seventh and eighth periods, around 1:02 PM, Monday through Friday, no school day excepted, I would see him there. The spot was a strange transition of wall, often covered by posters for various clubs, events, and student elections. It was a stretch of about ten feet from the far door of the art classroom and a staircase. A solid wall, with flat beige paint, that was always cold stood less than a foot away from the route he walked every day.
It had become so predictable; I looked forward to it as soon as the 1:01 bell to end seventh period rang. The thing is, nothing ever really happened. He would pass by, look at me, and I would make an attempt to punch his stomach. I was usually blocked, and I would pass by. If I was really insistent, I'd get a return punch, or he'd hold my wrists for a split second before he walked past me. Even that short moment could send my mind reeling, make me take a second to gain my balance so I didn't walk into the clump of people not entering the Biology lab.
Today was no different, except the fact that I was feeling a bit more sexual than I usually did. This was fine... mostly. I could control myself. And if I couldn't, I could take the bathroom pass. So really it was no big deal that I was horny in school.
I passed by exactly where I usually do, feeling insistent today. I walked backwards in front of him, facing him, and went to punch his stomach. He grabbed the wrist of the arm that was punching him and pressed the tips of his fingers into my veins. I went to retaliate, to punch him again with the other arm, in the shoulder, but he grabbed that one just the same.
I'm not even sure, but he must've pushed one arm and pulled the other, because I was waltzed into having my back against the wall. I looked down and to the side, anywhere but at his face. We would end up in a deep, silent conversation if I did. He still held my wrists tight, his left to my left, his right to my right so we were cris-crossed.
The boy I had come so accustomed to dismissing me crossed his right arm to my right side, bending the arm he was still holding. In doing so, he took a step closer to me, so our chests grazed one another's, and bent his elbow so as to push his forearm into my throat. My breathing became shallow, but I doubt it was because he was putting that much pressure on my airway.
His face was right in front of mine now, and in a moment of weakness I looked straight into his eyes– and I was locked. The deep brown orbs I was swimming in told me of fascination, with a bit of mischievous amusement. He didn't have any motive other than seeing the effect he had on me, but he enjoyed this sort of insight into my sex drive. I loved that I could actually read him. For someone so cold, his eyes were so warm and inviting...
They were not stagnant, either. I knew that my pupils had nearly swallowed my irises completely at this point. There was a warmth in my cheeks, a burning on the inside of my thighs, and a tingling in my stomach. I knew my hair had begun to stand on end, my nipples were hard, and my pupils must have been huge. When he caught sight of what my eyes were doing, his glittered with interest. So pushing her against a wall, holding her wrists, and choking her makes her pupils dilate. I could really only imagine him using that information to attempt to blind me or something.
That moment seemed like forever, but it must have been all of ten seconds we stood there, breathing at each other, before he took a step back and attempted to walk away, still holding my wrists. I struggled some, just enough to keep it interesting, but mostly I followed like an obedient pet. Coming to my senses, as I supposed he was, too, not looking my way, but holding me, I said, "No, but my class is this way..."
I was dropped so suddenly.
It felt like rejection.
I guess I just wanted him to hold on a bit longer.
