Plans suck and shall be thrown away in hopes of something better.
Like an actual relationship?
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He's laying in the grass, close enough to hear what she's saying.
She's distracted, he can tell from her voice, and maybe he thinks it's because of him.
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She's trying hard not to remember the sight of his bare stomach or the feel of his breath on her face.
Focus on Friend. Focus.
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He misses as he tries to throw his trash away.
At first it was by accident.
Then he saw how she jumped at him.
He's satisfied now that she doesn't listen to what that fat chick says. About his family. About him.
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"Pick it up." He just looks up at her. "Ah, do you have trouble hearing?"
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She picks it up, puts it where it belongs.
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He wants to keep her attention. Grabs the closest thing, a water bottle and throws it. Misses.
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"Real mature."
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She picks it up again, throws it out again.
More annoyed that it's him littering then if it was anyone else.
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"I just like watching you bend over." Smirks.
Waits for her reaction.
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"Oh that's nothing. You should watch me do this." The watching people suck in a breath, loudly. "Now you know how the Earth feels." Now she smirks as she stares at the trash covering his upright body.
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He didn't expect trash to be his new style. Glares up at her.
Notices how dark colors look best on her.
Compliments her hair, her eyes.
Tries to stay mad.
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For once, the tension between them might not just be sexual. For once, there might be some anger involved.
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He gets the detention. Walks out, a little annoyed that she doesn't have it with him.
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She feels bad about how only he's in trouble when she's the one who kicked the can.
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Notices the strap on his deserted chair. Points it out.
He left his bag.
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When she walks out of the room she's got detention and is on bag return.
Oh, good times.
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Mandela makes her open the bag. She gets a peek into his world.
.
Damnit.
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She's been itching to do that since she got the bag. Of course, Mandela did it.
So, it's not like she did anything bad, right?
She peeks. Guilty.
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When she returns it, he's smiling with his eyes.
He did it on purpose to see if she'd return it.
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She didn't disappoint.
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Hands it over with a sassy comment.
Denies that she looked.
Doesn't want him to think more of it.
Doesn't want to think more of it at all.
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They share a look, mutual in sarcasm and mockery.
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He takes it and walks away. Let's her win this round.
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She takes a relieved moment to sigh and go to detention.
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"You know, I think I finally figured you out. You dump trash on me, go out of your way to get detention, steal my back pack. You're obsessed with me."
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He could only hope she felt the same way back.
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"Hm. Oh, what can I say? You nailed it. You and me in these sexy vests picking up trash, the sweet stench of garbage in the air. Welcome to my dream date."
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She keeps turning away, to get to work, to get away.
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He keeps stepping in front of her, playing his game.
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"Am I making you nervous?"
"So nervous."
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She peers up at him with big doe eyes. He's smiling. Something he does constantly around her.
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Maybe obsession isn't that bad. At least he knows then she's got eyes for him.
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She's having fun. It's nice not fighting.
But. Totally not obsessed. She swears.
But if he felt the same way...
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She lets slip her little peek in his world.
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"You did look in my bag."
"What?" Crap. Avoid. Crap.
"Come on, cough to it." He tries to be mad but not with her. Not for long. "You couldn't resist." The wit comes out for the conversation again. "Seriously, it's okay if you're obsessed with me. Just admit it."
"No." She wonders which question she's answering, what statement she's denying when she says that. "I did not look in your bag." She adds for good measure.
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He's distracting her. Which is how her pointed pole meets his foot as she missed aiming for the plastic bottle.
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They both stare at the other in disbelief.
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Bad things happen when they're together.
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She goes with him to the nurse because she feels bad.
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He doesn't show how much it hurts because he can tell she's worried.
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The mood lightens when she won't go and he plays the 'you're obsessed with me' card.
Again.
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And, of course, a football player with tampons up his nose doesn't hurt either.
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They share a laugh.
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It all comes crashing down when he realizes he's missing something from his bag.
He accuses her. She's got no idea what he's talking about. They put everything back. Right?
He can't believe she'd be so petty as to take something.
He storms away, ready to hit something.
Because if she really doesn't have it, then someone else might see it.
High school sucks.
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That's the first time she's said his name as he walks into the nurses office without looking back.
Angry.
Oh boy.
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Recruiting Mandela, they search the bathroom floor together. It's gross but she finds it.
A little picture in a keychain. Not something she'd peg to be his but the picture proves it.
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In the parking lot she gives it back. They don't talk.
The apology doesn't have to be said but misunderstanding is still in the air.
He's still angry. A little happy. Feels a little bad.
Angry because it's her.
Happy because it's her.
Bad because it's her.
She must've seen in. Say goodbye to the bad boy image around her.
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He takes it. Doesn't look her in the eye.
Drives too fast to get away.
Ends up punching a wall, bandaging his hand.
Lucky for him, it's the weekend. Lucky for him, it'll be good on Monday.
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She feels just a little better but not much.
Doesn't know what to say, isn't sure if she should say anything at all.
He was really upset.
Drives home, curls into bed. Doesn't cry. Just thinks.
How do you make something like this all better?
Where's a universal Band-Aid to solve all her problems?
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She won't ask about it, and he won't talk about it. They'll just pretend it never happened.
Like their almost kiss or the fact he's been sneaking into her yearbook pictures whenever he can.
Another secret.
So, the next chapter won't be updated until after Tuesday. Well, duh. But, I probably won't sit down to write that until Thursday or so.
It'll be up before the weekend is up.
I think.
Again, thanks go out to my favorite person of the month, you know who you are!