A/N: This is a Brick-centered AU in which the first ten chapters are based on his seventeen-year-old experience, which serves as the genesis of the last eight chapters that depict his 19/20-year-old experience with 'love'. The editing may be slightly off since this website is very restrictive, but I'll try my best to fix the errors as they come.
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Chapter 01:
By chance, Brick met the new girl and he might quite start falling hard. The problem is, he's pretty sure she doesn't feel the same way.
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The hardest pill for Brick Mathews to swallow was that Blossom Bellum was inexplicably out of his league. Having his close friends continuously seeing the need to remind him didn't do much to help. In fact, it probably led to his downfall... but that's a later story.
Blossom was a late transfer — and not late as in a few weeks in when everyone had already settled into class. We're talking about the last trimester before her final year of sixth form. As in, she only had about two months for her international standardized exam… as in, her parents were fucking crazy to choose that time to make her move.
Of course, a circumstance as bizarre as hers was bound to be a mumble of some lips. However, aside from the first to fourth forms, students were too fucking busy preparing for exams to really give a shit.
"Blossom, could you be a dear and—"
Brick's first encounter with her was during intermission. She'd been digging through her locker for maybe a textbook, a water bottle, or a phone charger — the specifics didn't matter to him — all the while chatting with Princess. She probably wasn't the most stunning girl he'd seen, but — goddamn — he'd be fibbing if he said he wasn't chuffed to bits at how put-together and refined she seemed.
The girls' uniform never looked so appealing. Her ember hair flowed to the crook of her back and his eyes couldn't help but watch the way her hands gingerly returned a lock of free-flowing strands behind her ear. There was a straight-up need, or desire, for him to properly introduce himself to her but… he froze… or was anchored by the way her pink irises cascaded his face without even half a thought when she finished her sentence.
The stare-off for him felt intense despite it being just a mere three seconds. Her eyes smoothly returned to her locker, then Princess, then over her other shoulder without even a single acknowledgment of him…
She literally looked through him. And even though that revelation sunk deep in his thoughts, Brick's face flushed crimson red before he could do anything about it. The computer science book he wanted to shove in his locker until his next class couldn't seem any more interesting. It was a rare sight… Brick Bloody Mathews with his eyes steeled to a book… just because he didn't want to be caught staring or blushing as he walked past the unfamiliar face.
He should have said something; he wanted to. But who was he kidding? He wouldn't have even gotten a word out if he tried; he was gobsmacked!
Brick spent most of his upper high school career trying to minimize his interactions with Princess. Not because he hated her or anything like that — his best-kept secret? Had Princess not the insistence to throw a bloody wobbly the moment she'd been a tad peeved, Brick would've had no problem claiming her as a close friend — but just the association dug sizeably into his, unfortunately, growing notorious reputation… he wasn't rich enough to erase a bad stain. He had to be careful.
Sure… Brick had a bit of a temper. True… he threw the first punch a few times in the past. But despite his pretense of being unbothered, Brick didn't really appreciate being called a ruffian. Maybe it'd help if some of his intentions or actions weren't purposely hurtful but... who could blame him after he'd been clawed at repeatedly because of common age jealousy.
He also had this thing which he shared with Princess… and it might inherently be their thing since it was the blandest, most common type of tomfoolery that classic mean types would engage in. They'd sit on the bleacher, platonically, him being one seat above hers and body leaned towards her ear as he'd whisper some very 'judgy' comments. And she, just between his feet, body slouched back and eyes looking eagerly with the wriest of smiles, would happily indulge in gossip as they shared embarrassing points of their targets in mock humour.
That was the basis of his and Princess' relationship. Standard shady stuff. But possible crushes — he swore to himself it was not a crush — wasn't. He'd prefer saving his dignity and leaving some charters unexplored because honestly… he wasn't sure what backlash he'd receive if his 'curiosity' went public. He probably imagined the sarcastic wheeze Princess would make before she started teasing him and… he had pride.
It was his anchor.
He was okay with it.
It wasn't as if he liked the new girl anyway.
He just wanted to know… if... she'd been adjusting well to her classes. Or if her subjects aligned well with her old school and why she hadn't been sitting with Princess at lunch… or with anyone for a matter of fact.
For a week now.
So, this must have been, what? Her third week as a student… second week since he's seen her, and it was as if she was a fucking ghost. Never at Princess' table, the gymnasts' or any of the seemingly popular spots he'd expect her to be. Like, come on! Have the others not seen her? Why wasn't she scooped up with some easy to notice popular clique so he could get to know her already?
Instead, she was nowhere to be found… not even at the outdoor seating area where the garden was... and the skies were clear! That meant God was smiling down at London… but no… she was still playing ghost and the longer he searched for the pretty ginger with small shoulders, the more he was starting to believe she was fucking made up!
Words couldn't express how annoying and blimey frustrating it was for him to even figure out the girl's first name without directly asking someone, 'Hey… you heard about the new girl? What's her name?'.
Maybe if he'd paid attention to it when it slipped off Princess' lips, he'd save himself the internal turmoil. But he'd been too much in shock of the class of girl she was to even breathe naturally.
Was that what a first crush was, or was Blossom some type of fucking siren?
Who knew why, but Brick had cut his bullshit and decided to pay attention to his AS Biology lecture for once. Could be that it was the first week of May — just a little under two months until the big exam after all— or maybe because London spits could get super depressing real fast.
It was like this; the sky'd get pitch black, overcast… no sun and the temperatures would drain to these shivering tones that'd force goosebumps up your arms if they're stupidly bare. And let's not talk about the shit-job his overpriced preparatory school did at regulating the temperatures. They could blame it on the draft from their poorly-insulated historic wooden windows all they wanted, but everyone and their grandmum knew it took central heating more than five minutes to stop chucking that devilishly chilling breeze through the upper vents and start pushing the much-needed heat everyone deserved.
The drab of pooling waters on cobblestones may have seemed more serene from the third floor — where all 6th forms, including Brick, were classed — but it paled to the fluttering stray petals and leaves or the pigeons which usually crowded the garden on a sunny day. Heck… maybe if his Bio class didn't overlook one of the best features in school, he'd pay attention more often, but, oh well… sorry Miss Keane… more interesting things were outside your window.
Heck, he wasn't even sure if he'd brought an umbrella today. Just thinking about a wet commute home was gloomier than listening to his class teacher rehearse something he'd already heard at cram school last Thursday evening. But the class' lull had been humbling. His chin in an open palm as his red eyes slowly strayed from the rain streaking sadly down the misted glass and towards the red pointer dot Miss Keane so animatedly glided across the diagram. He heard maybe a stretched yawn or two, fucking second-year Mary constantly flicking her pen before she scratched aggressively her pad and a few exhausted groans as Keane went further into detail.
Her questions came with barely any volunteers; expected. She hadn't the time to express how impertinent it was that they got these concepts before lessons were over and non-stop exam drilling would start. There'd been somewhat a murmur at the far right, and Brick figured… after… what was it? A third confident answer in a row? Well, it was about high time he'd see who the fuck that strongly projected voice came from.
No.
Fucking.
Way.
Standing proud in her black watch tartan skirt, her desk just one to the right of Miss Keane's and wearing a bomber jacket certainly a few polycounts thicker than their school blazer — which he understood since their school would imitate brass monkey temperatures after just a drizzle— was her.
"Right indeed, Blossom."
Brick properly rose his head from captured palms. His eyes blinked in obvious surprise and his lips were close to becoming agape. She looked different; prettier, lovelier. There was now a satin red ribbon tied atop a high ponytail and the curly strands on her neck couldn't help but get tangled as her fingers tried to rub her goosebumps away. Townsville may have probably been the worst place in London regarding drop-dead temperatures…
Scratch that… he was pretty sure it was barely chilly outside; the people here just had the worst type of central air systems. The type that'll suck your soul out if you weren't properly dressed or prepared.
She pulled the blazer closer to her, the exposed skin being covered smoothly and his eyes finally moving from its nonchalant stare. Her small shoulders seemingly tensed before she rolled them. She smiled understandably after praise and sat with a glow.
A transfer this late would've been expected to be struggling, but either this girl was a fucking genius or her old school was… well… exemplary.
He was leaning on a 'yes' to both hypotheses. Anyone with half a brain could smell the overachiever brimming off her slender frame. She had this fluffy pink pen with a cartoon bunny figurine at its base and it was almost laughable seeing it wobble and bonk with each scribble she'd make jotting down notes as Miss Keane droned. Fuck it, Brick wasn't even pretending to pay attention to class anymore. Active transport or whatever it was wasn't worth his time. However, knowing everything there needs to know about Blossom was.
If she wasn't so focused in class, she'd probably feel his stare. Even though it would waver, it always returned to her face, hands, frame. Someone on-looking might have just assumed he was spaced out… Brick… was known to do that in class sometimes… people previously rumoured he bought the exam slips due to the beyond acceptable grades he was awarded but… he couldn't care less what they thought and a few correct answers in class had quickly debunked that theory. Boomer, however, who was exceptionally observant — at all the wrong and unnecessary things — noticed something interesting.
"Out of your league, lass." Boomer poked the back of Brick's chair with the rubber side of his pencil. He'd been pretty darn amused with himself as he applied a dollop of lotion on his cold, drying hands. Brick barely turned his chair and as usual, the notes he spotted on Boomer's pad were… well... impeccable was just a modest way of describing them. The blonde may not have been the best study, but his notes were always neat, colour coded, and admired by many… including Brick.
"Yeah? Piss off Boom."
Boomer halfway threw up freshly rubbed hands in surrender and despite him being discreet this time, Miss Keane certainly noticed their little charade. Let's just say… she wasn't impressed and was never amused. Boomer tapped his fingers along his side of the desk like legs strutting down a runway, "Just making sure you're not wasting your time," he started, his finger legs twirling to the other side, and the poor girl seated next to him looked almost done with his bullshit, "After all, we're fr—"
"I see that Boomer and Brick have found something more interesting than my lesson again." The class giggled along as Miss Keane folded her arms with a tone that implied a possible detention trip that afternoon — probably– most likely for Brick since that cocky mouth of his landed him in the worst possible places.
Except, he didn't speak. Not even a peep. He just straightened in his seat and tried shrinking the moment Blossom's unamused gaze met his wandering eye.
Bad impression…
The exact opposite of what he'd been mentally training for. Realistically, he knew that in order to befriend the girl — and he swears it's only to befriend — he'd have to do better; be better. So, he apologized, "Sorry, Mrs. Keane." And it was probably at least 75% sincere… if that even counted.
"For the last time, Brick... It's just Miss." much suspicion in her voice. Brick doing anything close to shying from center stage was... well… fucking wild was what it was! As much as she'd loved to chuck it up to him being knackered, it was Brick. Being real here… she knew him better than that. Or… at least… she believed she did. His sudden humility was saying elsewhat.
In the downpouring, class couldn't end any faster for Brick who unfortunately had found himself struggling to close zip his sliver backpack instead of chasing the ginger beauty and formally introducing himself. Then again… what was he to say? 'Hey, I'm Brick… I kind of distracted class because my best mate teased me for staring at you.'
Yeah. He wasn't going to say that… or anything as a matter of fact. Three weeks was too late to refer to her as the new girl… and way too late for him to realize they shared a class.
Social stuff like this was usually easy for him. Fourth form… what was that equivalent to? An American freshman year? Well, he'd entered this school a week late — nearly pulled an all-nighter just to finish unpack his school shit from those intricately labelled moving boxes littering his hallway — and for a school that ran from the first form to the upper sixth, you kind of stick out like a sore thumb if you're a freshman transfer.
Anyway, cliques — if you'd even classify their hodgepodge of social interactions that— were formed even before his family decided that Townsville, London would be their forever home — instead of Citiesville and their high luxury townhouses or loft apartments people gobbled up like Christmas candy — and the locals were so comfortable and stuck to their routines that they weren't ideally interested in new applications. But Brick waltz on the compound like he fucking owned the place and spoke to whoever he wanted, whenever he wanted because he was just that guy.
He impressed all those that mattered. One could tell a phony or a try-hard from a mile away. Guys who wanted attention would come in with a pair of fresh-off-the-shelves obviously designer shoes that they'd walk with a bit too much heel so everyone could turn to watch in awe at the sheer amount of money and 'style' they had. Brick came in with a pair of broken-in Vince's and a puma backpack. Not much to turn heads, but for those of an upper standing, they'd put him on their 'to greet' list. For example, Princess.
Having a pretty face, okay physique, and crazy nice hair were passable for her to award him a late greeting. But that was all. She was so over try-hards and social-climbing pariahs. She's been there, done that, and they could just fuck off. Brick, however… had the essence of one of 'them' and it'd probably been one of many reasons she didn't shoo him when he'd boldfacedly sat next to her during lunch as if they were friends.
Which… they sort of turned out to be? Weird… And befriending these two guys named Butch and Boomer couldn't have been easier. They just clicked. Simple. Guess liking the same shit like sports, nachos, and dumb pranks were enough for them. Who knew?
As for most of the school? Well… they were as shallow as you'd expect from any upscale preparatory school. Brick was good-looking and apparently charming. That was it… the football team — and if he heard anyone call it soccer, he'd lose his fucking shit — was just icing on his cake… He was in the moment he walked through the school doors.
Simple.
Plain.
Easy.
Boring.
Anyways… back to Blossom, who was… literally nowhere to be seen. Maybe if he wasn't so caught in his head he'd have seen where she'd usually disappear to on lunch breaks. The girl was like a fucking ghost. Here one second, gone the next.
He didn't even know what she smelled like… he imagined it'd be soft and pretty like her name. And… maybe it would have been a tad bit… just a wee bit weird to sit in her seat to test that theory… maybe… and he would swear he wasn't seriously thinking about that. He wasn't a creep. But… he really needed to stop spacing out in the middle of the crowded hallway. One wrong thought and his face would flush red… he learnt that from last time… he knew he needed out of public view A.S.A.P.
A kid shoved past him on his way to the staircase and Brick misstepped twice.
Uh… wait, scrap that! Billy was no kid. Even without his sixth form darkened blue tie — or the gold slanted pin of the roman numeral for two, (II), on it — Brick wouldn't mistake for a second Big Billy for a 'kid'.
"Gotta get out this shitshow." He grumbled, already weighing out his options of sticking around and hoping Blossom had the same afternoon class as his or skipping school to hang out at a café with at least semi-decent crepes and wait out the hours until it was appropriate to go home.
The air was a little bit dry inside anyway and there was a lot of brainstorming needed to be done before class tomorrow morning — AS Biology 8:30AM -10:05AM with the lower levels' 5minute class change time used as a break period. So yeah, maybe he had a bit of work to do before convincing her that he wasn't a doof. He had one or three sports scholarships lined up if he so pleased and they all required GPAs of at least 3.5.
Brick wasn't a stranger to hard work. Granted, he'd rather avoid it like the plague it was, but some things were worth burning midnight oil for. Like Miss Keane's class assignment. It wasn't hard… well, not really. It probably strained his brain only thrice before he completed it and the result had been more than pleasing.
On average, he'd barely put any effort into it. Class assignments didn't really mean shit to fifth to sixth-form students. The only thing that mattered was the end of the academic year's international test and he had all intentions of acing this one as he did the last.
One problem…
He had a mental block. Brick simply couldn't focus, and it wasn't because he'd still been fascinated by Blossom and the discovery of her first name. His distraction stemmed from the memory of how repelled she'd seemed by him.
Despite it being a short and quickly fixed disposition, Blossom had worn her look of disproval so brazenly before it was hidden with a neutral sigh. Heck, the girl didn't need to say anything her eyes didn't scream. After all, the words 'dumb jock' was stagnant on her gaze and it seemed to have echoed to its own beat.
A dumb jock Brick certainly was not... entirely. He just… studied better alone… learned more from YouTube podcasts and you know what? He even pre-studied with those online classes his parents subscribed him to. Walking down his hall, passing his mother's open door to her home office put unbelievable pressure on him. Gold framed plaques of degrees and achievements plastered her wall and that was only just a tip of the iceberg of how great his family was. His dad? Just. fucking. wow. He didn't really mention his name much… he'd gotten looked down on before because Brick wasn't the best at everything he did. Also... it was obvious that he wasn't trying to be either. Brick preferred scraping by life with his God-given talents and the tiniest bit of effort. That way, when he wasn't number one, he'd be content because he didn't try his best.
Hence, girls like Blossom were the type he strayed from. About a handful or all of them crowded his cram school; children of distinguished families or the flatliners who were trying to break out of lower middle class by hard work. Admirable… all of them, but… they reminded him a bit too much of his family and he just needed a fucking break from all that noise.
Cute though, he'd sensed a bit of a competitive nature from Blossom in class yesterday. As soon as Miss Keane deemed a question 'quite difficult', Blossom'd rush her hand to the air and flawlessly answered it.
"Try-hard." Brick sipped his light roasted, double brewed coffee before chucking a bit more Irish crème into the 12oz cup.
His sister looked at him suspiciously. The way he smiled wryly through puffed eyes and slightly red ears didn't quite sit well with her. It was enough for her to throw down her Samsung and study him for a moment. "Mum! Brick's being weird today!"
It had earned her a glare.
"Sweetie, leave your brother alone for mum, please. He's been behaved." The voice came from the mudroom, and it made sense since she mentioned needing to change her office curtains after window leaks made it a bit musty.
All in all, Brick's younger sister was a brat in every possible way. Confiding in her could quite possibly have been the worst idea he'd ever had but being sleep deprived from studying till 2AM and waking at half 6 made him do and think weird things.
"Court." Brick wasn't usually the type to say anything before breakfast. The Mathews didn't raise a morning son and they were quite fine with that. Caffeinate and fatten him up by half seven and he'd be quite bearable to the public. They were also quite content with that. While he'd been waiting for his sister to stop picking at her dry bowl of special K, his mind had been relaying all the concepts he crammed just so he could challenge Blossom in their shared class before intermission… petty… low… might just work.
"Oh, so he speaks to me..." She said tiredly, her eyes purposely avoiding his red ones in a bored manner, "What can I do you for?"
He wanted to scoff at how she rolled those pretty dark blue irises to whites, but his mother was a shrink… or therapist… or something like that… she was worth the big bank she made. Hence, his anger impulses... not bad enough to send him to juvie... as long as he tried to contain them. "There's a new girl in school."
"Uh-huh," she nonchalantly answered, popping a few grains of cereal in her mouth as she digressed her social feed. It took her a while — about eight seconds max — to register who he'd been referring to, and when it did, an impish smirk curled its way to her face.
Look. Brick would fucking go to war with anyone who dared mess with his sister — including Boomer who'd been getting a bit too close to her lately — but that didn't mean he wasn't about to get into it if she was about to start her bullshit so early in the morning.
"Lower sixth, great hair, great form…" she slurred, singing it as she tried to stretch a reaction from him.
"That last part means… what? Exactly?"
Not even bothering to answer his question, she scoffed, "No offense, and I love you when you're not…"
She playfully twinkled her fingers around him as she thought of a proper word, "You. But…"
She stressed the 'T', "She's a touch bit out of your league and…" reasonable pause to chew on some more dry cereal, "I don't think you're her type... But good tastes..." she smiled, opening the cold bottle of milk next to her and finally pouring, "Listen. If you could drag yourself out of the friendzone with Princess, then maybe you have a chance with Blossom."
His lips flattened, "One, I don't like or even see Princess like that. Two, I'm the friendzoner. Three. Just networking."
"Right" she mused, taking about two… maybe four spoonsful of her breakfast before standing, "Well… good luck bro… and it's whatever but," She threw her remaining cereal in the bin and washed her bowl clean. "Bet she doesn't even know your name."
"Brick, right?" Blossom was simply being friendly as it was her nature. She didn't want to be rude and admit that Brick choosing to be her desk-mate annoyed her. Plus, there was no way she could switch seats without seeming like a bitch so… basic pleasantries... and maybe a short prayer he doesn't activate Sod's law.
Blossom stretched a slightly uncomfortable look to the girl next to her. Robin was a nice enough student to sit next to and she'd wished she taken the free seat next to her when she'd gotten the chance.
Brick, however, was fucking beaming on the inside. He looked around the slowly filling class for Boomer's smug ass in hopes the blonde would sit behind him like the curtain peeper he was. Blossom knew his name... A victory like that, no matter how small, deserved to be shoved down Boomer's throat... And probably down Courtney's too... If Brick was brave enough for that.
'And you're Blossom, right?' was what he wanted to say, but he was the type of guy anchored by his ego, so he answered instead, "Yeah, didn't catch yours... " A long ending to somewhat seem more inviting yet unbothered...
Well, it made sense to him.
She looked at him warily, her unwillingness to peel from her light conversation with the girl named Robin being something that showed in her now extremely tensed shoulders.
Brick surmised it to jitters or anxiety until he noticed the look on her eyes didn't mirror that perfectly placed and gentle smile on her lips.
The memory of the words 'dumb jock' still seemed to echo through her gaze. And despite her superb attempt at masking her thoughts, Brick was simply too sharp with these kinds of things to not notice.
He cut his conversation short, like mid-sentence as he just grunted an 'okay' because the last thing he wanted to do was extend his time to someone who didn't appreciate it.
Miss Keane always had a knack of reaching to class just as the starting bell rang and she'd been visibly surprised that Brick was seated not only at the front of the class, but just a desk away from hers.
"Mathews?" she smiled. And Brick honestly believed that the way Keane constantly 'picks' on him could be considered harassment.
"Good morning, Miss Keane." he pulled out his class text and notebook to start her lesson.
"Perhaps," her fingers cradled her lips in confusion, "Did I go on and say that aloud?" cue the class laughter, "I was just surprised."
Took a while to get her bearings straight before she began her strict rule, "Okay, you know the drill. Completed homework scripts to the–" she fumbled, seeing that Brick had already stacked his surprisingly neat assignment atop his desk. It lacked his hurried, probably-done-on-his-morning-commute charm she'd been uncomfortably used to. "— to the front, please."
She looked between Brick and Blossom with a bit of query. Blossom was pretty, Miss Keane'd understand if he'd been putting on a show for the girl. However, the lack of shared interest they showed in each other — not to mention the slight discomfort Blossom exhibited — had quickly disproved her theory.
"So! Last time in class we revisited active transport. Let's see who's been paying attention and doing their readings! There're 6 types of movement across a cell membrane. Who here can... yes... Brick?"
Blossom stiffened, ready to groan at Brick's attempt of being a clown. And she didn't mean to be judgmental, but they shared two out of their four courses together... at best, aloof would be a humble euphemism for his class behaviour.
Yesterday was probably the first time she'd seen a human register from him. Logically thinking, he'd be the last she'd expect to offer an answer... unless he wanted to make a joke... Which sucked, because if she wanted to achieve one of the high goals she'd set for herself, a class clown disruption wasn't something she was too keen on having.
Then again, couldn't hurt too much by giving him the benefit of the doubt. So, with expectant eyes, she waited for his attempt, hoping he'd get at least two of the six answers correct.
She wasn't expecting him to be smart.
"Well, including active transport, there's..." the way he started the sentence was a plus in her ears, and she'd been pleasantly surprised by the manner of eloquence hidden in his words, "simple diffusion, osmosis," he paused as if recalling before continuing his beat, "facilitated diffusion, endocytosis and..." what was it again? Introcystosis? No, endo meant internal or within, so its opposite would have meant...
"Exocytosis." Blossom whispered the same time he said it, and to say the eye-to-eye exchange wasn't fucking breath-taking would be a lie.
"Yeah." he said, almost looking down at her. Because if he'd let himself stare, he'd be blushing hard in the middle of class… and he knew his classmates would never let it down that he's got a serious thing for the new girl... who, by the way, he's yet to have a proper conversation with.
Also, he wasn't ready to admit that he thought she was worth pursuing... or that he was looking anyway.
The shy 'yeah' wasn't meant for Miss Keane's or even the class' ears, but she'd been so to-the-moon that she'd won over such an influential student that she gave an overjoyed, "That's correct! All of it!" before continuing her lesson in a more upbeat and energetic manner... Must say, it was probably the most exciting class they'd observed for the semester and it'd been because of Brick — and by an unknown extension, Blossom.
He'd thanked her even though he didn't need her help, and her body movement slowly changed from annoyed to one of curiosity. She'd felt bad for expecting him to chat her up in the same unimaginative, prehistoric and egoistic way she'd been courted for the past three weeks she'd been at that school. And it was kind of weird... three weeks passed and this was the first time Brick showed any interest in class and he'd sat next to her the one time he did.
"You liked this topic?" she didn't even realize the words left her mouth as she packed her stuff away. Everything so neat, down to the compartments in her pale pink Brandy Millville corduroy backpack.
"What's that?" She actually fucking talked to him.
"Oh, I was just wondering, since you know..."
Brick turned to face Blossom in confusion as he paused his conversation. A little cloud of disappointment circled his chest the moment he realized her lips finished moved to a statement she seemingly expected an answer for.
By the way, he heard naught one word spoken.
"Sorry..." he pushed a directional thumb towards Boomer, "I was talking to this cuck."
She showed no visible reaction despite her embarrassment. "Hello, Boomer." Her words shying off her tongue. After an audible zip, she strapped her bag to her back and nodded politely.
It might have been out of her schedule, but just for today, she wanted to slow down, take a sip of her water and have a nice long stretch, but with five — well, three now — minutes until she was at her next class, she couldn't risk the chit-chat.
Of course, she should have spent her 15minute break mingling with her classmates rather than querying her answer for a practise test she did the night prior, but she wouldn't have forgiven herself if she couldn't solve it before she got home that day. So, three minutes till her next class... great.
Not that Boomer noticed, but she'd lost her focus during Chemistry. She was quiet. Her notetaking was limited to what was etched on the board and she hadn't been eager to answer questions. Instead, she nibbled at the tip of her thumb because Brick's strange behaviour flipping bugged her.
She thought she'd analyzed him properly. She thought she saw through him.
She was wrong.
Blossom being in the same Medical Science class as him was quite the surprise that Friday. Well, after getting praised by Miss Keane and then those pleased nods when he'd participated in class, Brick kind of started trying. This was his third-day streak. A real game-changer for the overall mood. For him, Medical Science was usually a fucking drab. No use taking a window seat since the view was just their shitty car park. As for the teacher? Blindingly soulless. Taking this course would've probably been one of his biggest mistakes yet but... Blossom was there. Realizing that made class a bit worth it.
In his defense, he'd been in the same class with these blokes for two terms. No one expected a new face in the third term... Again, her parents were fucking insane for transferring her out after she started sixth form. Brick wouldn't wish that transitioning stress on his worst enemy.
He skipped the seat next to her once more; he had to. Felt wrong.
Taking his usual position near the back, he tried his best to stay awake. Which was kind of hard when the projector played calming music as it showed a dull picture in front of the darkened room.
How badly did he even want to be friends with her? Brick could just take a bathroom break and never return as he usually did. No harm, no foul right? But... 'dumb jock'... she was new to the school and already thought of him like that... did the others also class him as that?
Brick was perfectly capable of sitting still and being an exemplary student. His only block was his utter dislike for that teacher. The man had been belligerent to Brick in the past. Something about his use of red caps and how he'd forgotten to take it off before entering school doors.
Well, pardon sir! Brick was well travelled! It wasn't against his old school rules to roam the halls with it; just not in class… and he would've never!
But that wasn't all. Apparently, the man abhorred the long-haired version of Brick. He claimed the young lad's appearance to be 'indicative of the roadman culture' and made him 'look like a gitty chav'. Maybe Brick held grudges or maybe that man's bad nature made his classes unbearable. Whatever it was, Brick seemed pretty pleased with himself after engaging in class activity. Why? Because it was the biggest 'Fuck you, Mr. Wednesday' he could've legally and ethically pulled off.
Blossom absolutely hated being wrong. It didn't help that it brought light to her judgemental side. The idea that Brick was actually a decent student bugged her. What was it before? Burnout? An act of rebellion? Or maybe all of this was some sort of elaborate game he was playing.
As much as she hated to admit, but she wished it was theory number three. She'd been hostile to him in her own special way simply because she thought of him as a hindrance. Blossom would've probably been scoffing at her previous self had she not been so disgusted with her current thoughts. It was kind of hurtful knowing that he deliberately avoided sitting next to her after last time... and she'd only conclude that after seeing him watch her empty seat and roll his eyes. It was as if saying 'sitting next to her was the worst thing possible'.
She'd bet he was probably trying different ways to get focused and her bitch-attitude limited him. God, the anxiety of wronging someone because of her misjudgement was sending her insane... It was bad enough that she'd asked Princess about him — twice — why was it so hard for her to speak with him or just flipping apologize?
Her parents didn't raise her to be this rude.
"You alright? I was wondering…" What the? The statement seemed odd coming from his lips, but it paled to the idea that she spent most of her class being deep in thought.
Blossom tentatively cast her eyes towards the slightly rhotic accent beside her. He appeared a touch nervous, or uncomfortable as he shifted his weight from leg to leg. Now would've probably been the best time for her to apologize but despite them opening their mouths at the same time, Brick's throaty voice was the first to be heard.
"Lunch, maybe?"
He couldn't help how choppy his words seemed. He'd been too focused on maintaining his nerve to notice how bewildered she was by his presence. Caught off guard by him twice in under two minutes left her to stutter, and she'd cleared her throat before politely giving him an apologetic response. "I kind of have plans with someone already…" In spite of being sincere, she felt guilty. Maybe it was that gutted look he tried to hide or the fact that he probably assumed she blew him off… which, she didn't.
"But I can take you up on that offer later." There was too much uncertainty leaking out her sentence and Brick felt that suggesting a one-month-in tour was too desperate a move to make. Instead, he shrugged, tapped her desk, nodded, and left.
Brick quickly learnt that it was better to leave some things unknown. Observing Blossom's lunch path would've been his lowest peak had he not discovered she blew him off to have lunch with the nerd patrol. There were quite a few people Brick disliked. The 'gangrene gang' seniors, Mitch… which was a long story, his sister's friends… and Dexter.
In another life, maybe… just maybe they'd be friends. But Dexter was the personification of what most strangers expected Brick to be and he hated that. As for why Dexter disliked Brick… who knew! The fact was that those two never spoke, and when they did, it was far from nice.
Well, the sight was too disgusting to continue. Brick turned his heels towards the lunchroom since he was quite keen on keeping his distance from the V.P. of academics. He slammed his lunch on Butch's table with much annoyance. The aforementioned boy parked a brow upwards, watching how swollen Brick's face seemed.
"What's his deal today?" Buttercup asked, her hands in Butch's bowl of fries while she waited.
Butch only shrugged, maneuvering his hands so it doesn't disturb hers before he dipped a few chips in the ketchup bowl. Being friends for over a decade brought about the type of domesticity that Brick failed to understand. Whether they're on or off didn't make much of a difference to Brick since he saw no change.
"Did I ever mention how much I don't. like. Dexter?"
"Yeah… like once a month since you've been here," Buttercup rolled her eyes, "What is it this time?"
"Does it really matter?" Butch asked, his hands flipped with nonchalance. A tablet with a slightly greased screen showed some figures from Butch's class and if one stared at the dirty device, they could tell that Butch attempted cleaning it once or twice by the long grease streaks on its surface.
"Shh! Yes, it does! Drama King here always has the best reasons."
"He should probably just punch him." Butch answered.
"That Mathews'll have to mortgage their house when he does."
"Both of you, God!" Brick groaned, "Shut up!" His head on the table in the most ridiculous of ways, "But is Dexter more likable than me?"
Buttercup, finding the perfect reason to tease, exaggeratedly denied that claim, "No way!" there was so much mock kindness in her voice that even Butch felt sick, "You know, between you and me, you are so much—"
"Butch, could you tell your girlfriend to shut up?"
"Not dating anymore." He reminded, popping another chip in his mouth and peripherally viewing Buttercup's reaction… or at least, her lack of it.
"Come on Brickie-" She urged, committing to her peppy-girl act.
"Oh please, no."
"Brickie."
Did she just tie her hair in pigtails to annoy him?
"Buttercup… I will floor you."
"Oooh, kinky! I'd like to see you try."
Butch, on noticing that Brick hadn't even unwrapped his burger and Buttercup literally stopped eating so she could start shit, was bemoaning, "This channel sucks, could we go back to why you hate Dexter today?"
The two blinked and watched each other sheepishly as their temporary truce was signed. Spontaneous heated arguments were normal for them. Pretty sure Boomer had even suggested putting them in a ring to let them duke it out in the past.
"Uh yeah, sure Brick, why don't you have the floor?" Buttercup was mature enough to humble herself when necessary.
Brick picked at the silver wrapping of his burger as he spoke, "Well, you know that there's a new girl at school right?"
Buttercup shrugged, chucking her quesadilla in the ketchup bowl before having a bite, "Heard but…" she took some time to chew and swallow, "…couldn't care less."
"Who, Blossom?" Butch asked, pushing his empty bowl of chips to the side as he rubbed at his apple.
"Right!" Brick enunciated. He took a grand bite, mustering the courage and smarts to continue his sentence.
"Funny," Butch was a bit smug, and before Brick could even question, he finished, "She's way out … like far, far out your league Brick."
He felt insulted, "Not like that."
"Heard that Butchie boy, it's not like that."
"You're not helping." Brick groaned.
"Sorry I wasn't born to help you, Sir Brick of the Mathews family."
Brick rolled his eyes, "This!" he pointed, "She! Is the reason I don't sit with you anymore!"
"Yeah, yeah… and what does Dexter have to do with all this."
"Bet she's dating him."
He wanted to deny that ridiculous claim, but he knew an obvious setup when he saw one and the last thing he needed was for Butch to jump on that train, "I literally hate you right now Buttercup."
She smiled, grinning as he stormed off to Boomer's table, "Send me a postcard from the friendzone later on!"
"Piss. Off!"
Next:
Animal — He's too shy to make the first step and she's too prideful to accept that she sucks at reaching out. It'd be great if they could clear up their misunderstandings, but life isn't that easy.
A/N: I've been a bit iffy to bring this story here. However, on completion, I'm proud to say that the story is by no means R-rated. Maybe bordering teens, or mature because of a few curse words or innuendos. But I'm not into graphic content so I believe I've rated this story appropriately.