Chapter Three: Some things you just don't question

(Adam's POV)

Who was I kidding? Sure, Thomas looked really, really pretty… But he was probably some popular skater kid from some uptown rich neighborhood. I glanced at him, watching him leave when he saw me looking, and he too looked. He blinked once before looking away and following the crowd out the door. My heart was beating a little harder in my chest. His eyes… Such a beautiful, beautiful chocolaty brown. Smudged delicately with liner— like I'd done my own eyes this morning.

I gathered my belongings, shoving them into my messenger bag (shut up, I preferred this over backpacks). I stood from my desk, pulling the strap over my head and letting it rest on my shoulder. I nodded to the teacher before walking out of the classroom. Lunch had started, and people were bustling up and down hallways. I turned to my right, seeing Thomas swarmed by a crowd of people, and they were walking. I looked away, pulling my iPod out of my bag and unwrapping my headphones, shoving them deep into my ears and blasting something by Bowie, I couldn't remember what.

I strolled down the hallway, making sure not to run into anyone. Usually, the freshman and sophomore were the ones trying to avoid people like me, a senior. However, I was exactly classified as a "popular" or "cool" kid. Braces and glasses kind of did that to you, and so did theatre, but whatever. I was okay with who I was. I may have been a nerdy theatre kid who performed in every play, but at least I wasn't a fat nerdy theatre kid. That would have just made me depressed.

I slipped into the cafeteria, walking towards the back of an ever decreasing line. I punched in my number to pay for my food, before following a good twenty other students through the kitchen. Pizzas, hamburger, salads, burritos, all kinds of options. I grabbed a chicken Caesar salad off a stack, and a small bottle of orange juice. I tried to stay as healthy as possible, even though foods like pizza and chocolate were all time favorites of mine.

I walked out to the cafeteria again, deciding that I didn't really favor eating inside today. I headed out, sitting at an outdoor lunch table. No one bothered me; in fact, they walked on as if I didn't exist. To them, this didn't bother me. But I wouldn't deny my loneliness. Sure, I had a few acquaintances in theatre, but none of them were friends— none of them were the people I would spend weekends hanging out with or several days over summer vacation.

I pulled my iPod out of my pocket, setting it on the surface of the table and changing the song. Hmm, not bad, not bad— I Knew I Loved You by Savage Garden. I loved this band, especially the lead singer, Darren Hayes. He's fucking beautiful. I smiled to myself as I popped the plastic lid of the box holding my lunch. I stabbed the salad with my fork, taking a small bite and chewing thoroughly. Why am I describing how I eat my food? God, I'm such a fucking idiot sometimes.

I swallowed the bite, before digging through my bag and pulling out a worn copy of Wicked, one of my all time favorite books and plays. I leafed through the pages, finding where I'd last left off… But I didn't get very far into reading, as a shadow crossed into the line of light that I had. I looked up through my veil of black bangs, up towards a silhouetted figure. The shadow sat down and I was able to see— blond hair, gorgeous brown eyes… Thomas.

I fought the urge to choke on my tongue. I plucked my headphones from my ears. Well, I didn't want to be rude, but what kind of hot shot wanted to been seen with someone like me? He didn't say anything for a moment, so I took another bite of my salad, cautious to not get anything stuck in my braces. Oh, jeez, that would be so embarrassing. Trying to talk when you've got a piece of lettuce stuck in metal? It's like a little reminder of how much of a nerd I really am. Ugh.

"Hi." He said, his voice soft. He had a beautiful voice; cheeky, feminine almost. Maybe that was my imagination, I wasn't quite sure. I swallowed my bite, running my tongue over my braces gently, making sure that I had nothing stuck in them. Why was I so concerned?

"Hi." I said back, setting my fork down and closing my book. His hands were in his lap and he looked shy. He probably was. Why was he talking to me though? I was nobody. Just another geek in the back of the classroom who read Wicked and Romeo And Juliet way too many times. Okay, Shakespeare, not so much, but I still read it quite often.

"I'm Tommy." He said. Aah, so he preferred Tommy over Thomas? Good to know, good to know. Why good to know? Well, in the event that I need to ask him something related to homework, or if I see him in the hallway… I know to call him Tommy instead of Thomas.

Bullshit.

"Adam." I said, extending a hand. He took it, shaking once before we let go. His hands were firm, calloused in the fingers. I wondered if he played an instrument. He sure as hell looked as if he could. He kept his hands on the table, folded neatly. His nails were painted with black nail polish, but it was chipped. I glanced at mine for a moment, seeing the neat and precise painting, fresh. I did it last night.

"So…" He trailed off, unsure of what to say. I smirked a little, grabbing my fork and playing with my food.

"Where are you from?" I asked him, taking another small bite before setting my fork back down and snatching my orange juice. I unscrewed the lid and swallowed a drink, washing down my bite of chicken and salad. He licked his lips a little (which I noticed were really plump for a guy), tightening his hands together as if he was nervous. Maybe he was just super shy. Or uncomfortable. That was a possibility too.

"Chicago." He muttered. Yeah, he was probably uncomfortable. New kid in school in a completely different city. I wondered for a moment what he was like at his old school. What kind of friends he had, if he had a girlfriend… Okay, Adam, don't depress yourself with that thought. But at the same time don't wonder what he likes. Just because he's pretty doesn't mean he's like you. Oh, shut up!

"Cool." I had no better word. I took another bite to occupy myself. Tommy fidgeted with his hands a little more, looking unsure of what to say. I felt kind of bad for him. He opened his mouth a little, and I glanced up at him, caching his eye. He didn't look away; he stared right back at me for a long moment, before I eventually tore my gaze away, heat spreading across my face. Fuck…

"So, um… What were you writing? Earlier in class?" His voice was barely above a whisper. I looked up at him again, my heart pounding frantically. Don't tell him, don't tell him. If you tell him you write lyrics, he's gonna want to know, and then he's gonna see that everything you write about has to do with guys and he's gonna think you're a freak and never talk to you again.

"N-nothing." I lied, but it felt wrong. I watched his lip curve down in a frown. He looked disappointed. Don't be sad, Tommy…

"Oh." He said simply. It was silent between us for a long moment. I took another bite of my salad, but my appetite had been lost. Tommy looked over at me before looking down, his eyes catching the bright, emerald green cover of Wicked. He nodded to it in a silent request. I moved the book towards him, and he picked it up, looking at the back cover. An intrigued smile graced the corner of his lips, pulling up slightly. Absent mindedly, I trailed my tongue along the inside of my lower lip, not quite moistening them.

"Is it good?" He asked after a moment, and I smiled.

"Yeah." He ran his fingers down the spine, and for a moment I imagined that it was not the spine of a book, but skin that he was touching… Stop it.

"Take it you've read it often?" He showed the worn binding to me, and my face flushed a little.

"Yeah."

"Is that all you say?" He smirked at me and I flushed a redder shade. I pushed my glasses up higher on my nose, hoping that my bangs were hiding the embarrassment in my eyes. He chuckled a little, probably at my cherry-tomato face, and I couldn't help it. I smiled, laughing with him. For a moment I didn't care that I was a theatre dweeb with glasses and braces. For a moment, I was laughing with someone who I was hoping would be my friend.

"I guess." I said after a moment, taking a drink of my orange juice. Tommy folded his hands back together on the table, leaning forward a little bit. I eyed him as I set my juice down. I opened my mouth to speak when a voice cut me off.

"Yo, Tommy." I watched him turn towards a dark skinned senior with dreadlocks. He was in our English class, his name was Longineu Parsons, but everyone called him LP. He was wearing black cargo shorts and black hiking boots, a grey tank top with a black skull on the front. He was laid back for being one of the more popular kids in school. He was also in band— played the drums. I'd only heard him play the school's music, but I'd heard in the halls that he was amazing behind the drums, when he played his own music.

"I want'cha to meet someone." Longineu said , tugging on Tommy's arm. Tommy stood, flashing me an apologetic smile as he was pulled away from the table. Longineu called out for someone named Monte, but I didn't catch the face. I sighed sadly, staring down at my half-eaten salad and my empty orange juice. I grabbed my book and shoved it into my bag, snatching my iPod and my trash. I tossed the rest of my food, plugging my ears with my headphones and heading off into the direction of my next class.

Who was I kidding? Tommy was accepted as being popular. I wasn't and never would be. He had no reason to hang around a loser like me.