He always comes late to school. Always. He always tramples into class with flashy motions, a swift swing to open the door, causing it to bang against the wall, a bag slung over one shoulder, lazily rested. He never makes eye contact with me or anyone when rushing into class. He just stares down at the floor.
He was late every single day I knew him and he always rushed into class. It was like he sauntered to the classroom door and then just randomly made a big entrance. It's not like he was in a hurry to get into Chemistry class, nobody was.
Except me, I suppose.
He was always staring, with these dark eyes, across the way, tapping his pen lightly at the ordinary line that was his mouth.
He would never stare at me, but he'd stare my way. He was always blankly glowering out the window, which was right next to me, always taping his pen against his mouth, bumping it into his chin every now and again.
Though he won't notice me, I always noticed him. I'm barely passing that class because of this kid, too.
I have Chemistry 3rd period, two periods before lunch. Boy, don't I have a long and excruciating wait for my Lunch period to arrive.
Lunch was the second time I would see him inside of the school day. He was never hasty inside of lunch like he is in Chemistry.
He always was waltzing to his dusty seat, alone in the corner table, taking his sweet ass time to chew the food he had and not pay attention to anything but that itself.
I made sure, without being obvious, to secretly make sure I could always kinda see him.
I mean, he was a pretty eerie guy, always wearing darker colors and always having a look of insanity twinkling within his eyes. However, his medium length, platinum blonde contrasted in such a weird way, that it was almost ironic that he seemed like such a dark, hard person, but had such light, soft-looking hair.
It was so attractive to me and I couldn't explain why.
I think I liked him because he was creepy.
But it wasn't a creepy that made me scared and uncomfortable. To be bluntly honest, it was sorta sexy….
Okay, very sexy, yes. In creepy ways. He was sexy and creepy, but he was sexy because he was creepy, too. He was both. He was Crepxy: Creepy + Sexy.
Don't get me wrong though, not just anyone could be creepy and pull it off so it's actually attractive in any way. Oh no, only few people had the ability to be strikingly gorgeous all whilst having a gothically weird persona. It was admirable. And he did it so well, without even trying. He was naturally Crepxy.
He was like a demented dream I always waited for. Like I was a fair maiden and he was my prince. No sparkling gold shoulder pads and crème colored suit. God, no.
All black attire, that's what I saw that boy in. A black, metal armor that I can't help but imagine some midnight purple somewhere faded in there… Mmm…
Yeah, I was totally gone.
He twirled his buttery spaghetti into his mouth and leaned back in his seat. I watched, grasping my sandwich tightly, mayo plopping onto the table, watching as the butter glossed his lips, making them look glorious as he childishly slurped in the pasta.
Completely gone, to be exact.
His obscure eyes, then suddenly, flickered my way. My heart jumped a mile then stopped in midair.
I gulped and quickly forced my eyes to the ham stuffed into the white bread I was holding.
Crap, I hope to God he didn't catch me gawking at him eating buttered spaghetti. He'd think I'm a freak if he knew, and if he saw the look of adoration I was giving him as he ate.
After staring and burning holes into the meat, I soon glanced up to see if his eyes were on me or...
They weren't.
I sighed and threw down my sandwich, folding my arms in relief. I wonder what he thinks about when he looks at his food so intensely.
He just sits, stares, then scarves it down.
He looks pretty cute when he chews to one side like that.
I rip a piece off of my sandwich and chew vigorously. Not slow and cute like him. I was exactly three tables away from him, sitting here in agony.
I want to go over to him and tell him that I like his shirt because it reminds me of the sky when it's nighttime and then he'd tell me he wanted to kiss me because my lips remind him of pink roses and then we'd kiss.
But, that's such a stupid fantasy.
Yes, it is, because boys aren't that thoughtful, to be honest. Well, at least the boys I've known.
When I said in my daydream that my lips reminded him of pink roses and stuff, remember? I would love to think he's poetic. Maybe he is, how would I really know? I never even breathed next to him let along talk about night and lips. So there is still hope.
I smile unconsciously, at my thoughts. That hope keeps me going, man, ya' know? I like the kid a whole lot and I'm blind about everything else but him. I think.
But, lunch is the second time in my day I see him, officially. My free period, which is my last period of the day, I use to go to the library for homework matters. But ever since the day I left early and skipped that period instead of staying because my cousins came in from Virginia, I saw him walking down the stairs to leave the building, too.
The stairs on the side of the school, to be exact.
Not the main staircase.
So now every day I leave school 8th period through the side entrance because it's usually just me and him. And in those few seconds I see the back of his blonde head quickly going down the stairs, I make sure I stay a little behind him, this way I can admire him from afar.
It's easier and much more convenient to hold my binder close to my chest and starry eye watch him trudged down the marble steps of this place.
I recently live for those few moments to watch his arms swing back and forth gently as he takes each stomp. And the way his hair lightly bounces in sync with the way his legs bring themselves up like he's bouncing a soccer ball with his knees.
I like those days where he's hasty and rushing to get home, because he's in front of me by a lot, so I can walk a normal pace even when I don't want to be seen.
He goes so fast sometimes I hardly catch him when he runs through the small corridor before the exit. That's the only thing that sucks about those days; He leaves so quickly and I see little of him.
I think I really like those days because I don't have to worry about him spinning around to look at me, it's a quick jog down the steps and a stride through the hallway and out the door he goes. That's all.
However, the days where he strolls down the steps, carefully stepping on each step, taking his sweet ass time are the more risky days. I need to be extra careful with hiding and not gaining his attention.
And his timing isn't the best when he decides that he has all the time in the world and he strolls and lollygags. It takes him longer to get to the staircases those days, and he cannot be behind me, or even next to me, or even two feet away.
Uh-uh, no way, he'll look at me.
And he'll notice me.
And God knows I don't need that to happen, I would never know what to say.
Or how to be.
Or what to do.
Or how to do it.
So basically if my dark prince ever catches his fair maiden following him around, I'm royally screwed.
It was the last period of my day in this hell hole and I grabbed my bag and threw all my stuff into it carelessly, rushing like a mad woman. It was a Wednesday, which meant I had to babysit The Rooney kids.
The Rooney's had this awesome date night, every Wednesday. They'd go to all these cool places and enjoy marriage the way it was meant to be enjoyed. Their kids were pretty cool, and easy to manage also. It was easy pay, and I enjoyed it.
I also enjoyed that their home was right across the way from his house.
Sometimes, when I was making dinner for the kids or cleaning the dishes, I'd look out the kitchen window and see him. Whether I saw his shadow walking in a room or he was taking out trash. I saw him with his pretty blonde hair and his lovely, dark eyes.
So close but yet still so far.
It was almost pathetic, I thought to myself sometimes.
So utterly stupid that I fawned over this guy in such a way that I could barely contain the excitement of even seeing him across the street. My adrenaline raced as well as my heart, even when his name was spoken…
"Tate Langdon," The teacher, Mr. Thatcher calls out for attendance. My heart jumps as I hear the sacred words, I stop writing and look up. Mr. Thatcher flips through papers and sighs. He pushes up his glasses with a disappointed look on his face as he shook his head. He takes the pencil and fills in the dot for his absence. He continues to call names, basically finished with the list.
Mr. Thatcher plops the sheets down on his desk, pushes up from his chair and grabs a dry erase marker. Mr. Thatcher begins to speak to the class and as if right on cue, he waltzed through the door.
The most attractive and alluring person I've ever met.
The best of the best.
The almighty Dark Prince.
Tate Langdon.
