Something that's been floating around for a while. :)
Rating: K+ to T
Setting: Through the years AU at high school.
Song: Hey There Delilah by The Plain White T's
Disclaimer: I still don't own Percy Jackson or anything familiar in this plot. The rest, however, is mine. So, no stealing.
Freshmen Year
The boy with the green eyes always sits in front of me in English class. Everyday, without fail, I will look up from my book, whatever it may be, to see him ungracefully clambering into his seat.
Everyday, I will stare at the teacher, his messy hair blocking my view, and his whispers to his friends disrupting my hearing.
Everyday, he will sit in there, twiddling the pen around his fingers and tapping nonsensical rhythms with his long, skinny fingers. Fingers meant for precise work, fingers meant for dainty, soft touches.
In this class, purely by accident I assure you, I have noticed little things. His laugh when he tries to be quiet; lips pressed into a tight, joyous smile and green eyes shining. When he's concentrating on something particularly challenging, he'll rub his neck and sigh. When he's tired, he'll slump in his chair and the ends of his hair will brush my desk.
He has a lot of friends, or maybe they're all just in this class, but he never stops talking. Talking is easy for him, as well. He's social and tries to be friends with everyone.
I may be imagining it, but, despite his happy demeanor, his eyes are pained, like they have seen too much. His friends don't seem to be too concerned, which is what concerns me.
While having some repetitive habits, he is impossible to chart, to graph or to follow. He is loud and wild, everything I am not.
And perhaps that explains this fascination I have with him, or perhaps it is merely because this class bores me to no end.
\
The girl sits behind me every class. No matter what I do, she continues to sit there. I'm surprised she's lasted this long.
I sit in front of her on purpose. To smell the faint scent of her, lemons, old paper and something else I'm unable to place, to hear her turn the pages of her thick volumes, to hear her sigh and lightly bump my back with her fist as she writes pages and pages of notes.
I sit here because it's the only way I can be connected to her somehow. I've tried to talk to her, but she is someone untouchable. She seems to be something completely out of this world, alien and angelic at the same time.
She likes to read a lot. She is reading something every time I sneak a glance at her, whether it is notes or a thick book of some sort. I could never sit through a whole book like that. Her hair falls in her face when she reads, especially this one golden strand that she'll sigh at and tuck behind her owl-earring'ed ear.
Her unforgettable grey eyes hold a certain maturity you don't usually see in kids our age. It makes me wonder what they could have seen to make the grey as heavy as steel.
She never talks unless asked. She knows the answers, I can hear her sigh from behind me, but she must be too shy to raise her ink-splattered hand in class. I don't know why, but I find it adorable and incredibly intriguing. I know for a fact that if I were as smart as her, I'd never shut up.
I also don't know why, but she fascinates me. I want to know more, which is odd because I've never had much motivation to do anything. Or maybe I'm just tired of listening to the teacher drone on about grammar.
Sophomore Year
I don't have any classes with that boy anymore. I know this because I overheard him talking to his friends about his schedule in the hall. I later checked mine and no such luck. It sounds a little creepy, but I figure that Roman fans would collect vials of gladiator's sweat and wear it as perfume, so really, my situation isn't nearly as obsessive.
I wish I did have classes with him. I never could pluck up the courage to talk to him last year, which really was a shame. I'll miss his sighs of boredom and nonsensical beats against his desk, arm or thigh. I'll miss observing him in complete and utter boredom.
The boy's locker, as I learn later that day during lunch, is beside mine. When I found this out, a smiled secretly and pretended to text one of my friends in order not to look like an odd one out. His friends are rowdy as ever, shoving each other into the lockers and laughing loudly and uncontrollably. He, however, is less so, more reserved and adult-like. His messy hair is tamer and swoops in front of his bottle-green eyes, like being blown by an imaginary wind.
Sometimes, when we are grabbing textbooks at the same time, he will look at me like he is going to say something, but settles for a smile. I smile back, with closed lips and my shyness shining through. One of his multiple friends will call him over and he will sigh and run to them, his book bag swinging merrily on his shoulder.
I wish I had the courage to walk up to him and introduce myself. But I am shy, as I always have been, so, like always, I will settle with reading my books and observe him.
\
The girl still doesn't talk to me, even with us being locker neighbors. I wish she would, but I've come to the conclusion that she is shy, another characteristic I can't help but find adorable.
I was extremely unhappy when I saw that we didn't have any classes together. I caught a glance at her schedule taped to her locker door the first day of school.
Her golden locks have grown longer, so they gently brush the middle of her back and she walks and she's cut bangs that fall in front of her grey eyes. Her eyes still hold the same maturity to them, just like last year, but there is a something different about them, a happy sparkle. She's grown taller as well, but so have I. I am still a head taller than her, thank goodness.
I am surprised that I never noticed how wonderful her smile is. It's all I want to look at for days and days. If I could remember one thing about school, it would be that shy smile from the grey-eyed girl. Her smile makes my day.
My friends think I'm funny, that whenever I come back from my locker, I have this glazed-over drunken look about me. 'Locker Girl', they call her, and 'Lover Boy' they call me. They'll punch me in the shoulder and say I'm whipped, and I'll roll my eyes and punch them back and say that they don't know what they're talking about.
Even though they most certainly do.
Junior Year
The boy and I don't have lockers together anymore. I hardly ever see him, either. Since all of my classes are AP or Honors, as per my mother's demands, we don't have any classes together either.
Our lunch tables are relatively close at the cafeteria. Sometimes, I'll look up from my sandwich and we'll make eye contact. He'll smile and wave just a little and I'll smile back, with my teeth this time. His friends will wonder what he's looking at and they'll notice me and start laughing. I'll look back down at my lunch, my cheeks burning because I can hear them laughing from their table.
He's grown even taller, which I didn't think was possible. His hair is shorter, falling just below his eyebrows. He's filled out and become broad-shouldered and lean at the same time. He reminds me of the boys out of my novels.
I don't think I've ever wanted to kiss someone this badly. I've always found him attractive; I observed him for a whole two years. But now, I have this burning feeling of desire in my gut every time I look at him. He makes me want to rip out of my shell and kiss every part of him, wrap my legs around his waist and knot my fingers in his messy hair.
I still haven't said hi to him yet. I don't know if I can but I'm beginning to wonder if I should.
\
I was disappointed this year when the girl with the grey-eyes wasn't in any of my classes this year. She wasn't my locker neighbor either, which was an even bigger disappointment. My friends have been pressuring me all year to just stop her in the hallway and ask her out, but that isn't how I am. My mother taught me that you should never just ask her out out of the blue. You need to earn her.
And if I can't even say hi, how am I supposed to earn her.
I didn't think it was possible, but she got even more beautiful this year. Her skin was tanner and her golden hair shinier and even long, now brushing the small of her back. She now wears it up most days, probably because long hair must be a hassle to take care of.
To my dismay, a lot of other people have noticed these changes as well. I don't like the way that some guys look at her in the halls, like she is a piece of meat and they're a starved lion.
Our lunch tables are rather close in the cafeteria. If I sit in the right seat, I can see her laughing and eating with her small group of friends. When we notice each other looking, I'll wave and she'll wave back and I'll smile like a two-year-old. Of course, my friends have to ruin this wonderful moment by noticing her and laughing hysterically. They can't believe I'm still 'hung up' on that girl. I'll roll my eyes and tell them to back off and they do, but not for more than a day.
One thing I've decided is that if I could listen to one sound for the rest of my life, it would be her laugh. Her little giggle to her tears-pouring-down-her-cheeks laugh; they are music to my ears. They are a sweet melody and I have to hide a smile every time I hear it through the normal chatter in the cafeteria.
My friends are right; I am completely and totally hung up on her.
Senior Year
"All right everyone, I'll be assigning lab partners now. Please pay attention."
The first thing I do when I walk into my first period of my senior year is look for the boy with green eyes. No such luck. I sigh and lean my head on my hand, already wishing the tone would just bloody sound.
The teacher, a slightly overweight and balding man, snaps his fingers as he reads names off a piece of paper, pointing to the corresponding chairs. My hope that chemistry will be a fun class deflates as my best friend is partnered with some other girl.
She sends we a woeful look from across the room and I stick my tongue out at her. How I wish it were still summer.
"Annabeth Chase," the teacher drawls out and I grab my bag and walk over to the table second down the row and beside the window. At least it's a nice seat.
"Wonderful," the teacher says and smiles at me reassuringly. I smile back shyly. "And next to you is…" He squints and calls out, "Percy Jackson."
"Here!" a boy says as he slides in the door. My eyes go wide. The boy has green eyes and flyaway black hair.
The teacher rolls his eyes. "Technically you're late, Mr. Jackson. But, since it's the first day and I'm generally a nice guy, I'll let it slide."
The boy, Percy, blushes and nods, "Uh, yeah, the traffic was really bad this morning. Sorry." He catches the look the teacher gives him and quickly says, "But thank you, anyway, Mr. Benson."
Mr. Benson nods, satisfied. "You're right here, next to Miss Chase." He points to me and the boy's eyes go wide just as mine did.
He smiles. "Great." He hefts his book bag over his shoulder and clambers in next to me, just like he did in the ninth grade.
"Right!" Mr. Benson says, clapping his hands together. "Now that you're all seated, I believe it is time for some introductions. Why not introduce yourself to your lab partners?"
Percy turns to me, his green eyes shining with life. He extends his hand and my breath catches in my throat. "I'm Percy Jackson," he says with a nervous smile.
I return the smile, trying to seem comforting. "Annabeth Chase."
He grins.
What did you think? Tell me in the review box below, or send me a PM, or you could even email me at lousejackson098 . I check my email daily, so, yeah! Also, please check out my tumblr and instagram, both are the same username, emblaho1. I post some stuff sometimes.
SHAMELESS SELF PROMOTION SECTION OVER!
I really hope you guys like it. This is the hardest I've worked on a oneshot in a while. Also, 257 reviews?! You are wonderful and I love you all sososo much! Virtual kisses to you lovely lot!
By the way, I will be becoming more absent as competition season is upon me, in fact I had one yesterday, and then recital. And school is becoming more and more demanding.
Anyway, have a lovely day/night!
Love you all bunches!
-Lou