The Live a Little Project

Chapter 3- The Door Lock Memory Lapse from Hell

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Chapter 3- The Door Lock Memory Lapse from Hell

Three hours.

Three hours is how long it took until I snapped.

It was the second to last period of the day, math for me. I remembered I had a test today. I can only imagine how hellacious it will be to take an AP Calculus test with one of the Three Stooges strapped to you like arm candy. Literally.

We had just been to his English class, luckily, it was the one course we shared, though we didn't have it at the same time. I manged to get some work done, all he managed to do was get like five phone numbers. He was a celebrity in every class, people would blush even looking at him, get a life people! I got glares from all the girls too. They would die to be in my position, but then they would just be a corpe attached to Easton James, which I don't think will help your chances.

I pulled him into math, (which I was really tired of doing, he wouldn't go anywhere without protesting.) and scoched two desks together and got my test from my teacher.

It took a second to sit down, the handcuff were making it hard to configure out bodies so we were both comfortable. I wrote my name and date on the top page and started the first problem.

No sooner than my pencil touched the page, I felt a breath on my neck. I ignored it and continued with the problem, the scratching sound of the pencil competing with the sound of Easton's breath. Thankfully, it smelled nice, like mint and chocolate.

By the third problem, he had started to hum songs and tap his fingers on the desk, wich bugged the living daylights out of me.

"Stop it!" I whispered, flicking his hand, he frowned but kept quiet.

Another minute later, he picked it up again, but louder. I recognised 'Daylight' by Maroon 5, but this was no time to appreciate his taste in music. He peered at my paper, from the corner of my eye I saw him make a confused face.

"What the hell are you writing?" His nostrils flared as he tried to make sence of the complicated formulas I had written.

"Math," I push his forehead away with my palm. He continues to pester me,

"Are you sure you're doing it right?"

"Yes,"

"Really?"

"I have an A+ in this class, I think I know how to do this!"

"You have an A+?"

"No, I was lying!" I scoffed sarcastically, "Move your arm,"

I pushed his/my arm off my desk and used my hair as a curtian again. He pushed it back,

"What's the matter Chloe?" He grinned innocently, knowing that my name gave him leverage.

"Thalia," I corrected, digging my pencil harder and harder into the paper like it had done me wrong.

"I don't want to call you Thalia," he gave me a smouldering look

"Why?" I asked absentmindedly, concentrating on the quadratic I was writing.

"Becase I want to have a special name for you, that only I call you," he lowered his voice, I snickered.

"Sounds great," he noticed my snort of derision and frowned, "do you use that to get girls to go out with you, to make them feel 'special'" he looked away,

"No," he said, clearly lying, he recovered, "what should I call you?"

"For the rest of the only day we will ever spend together, that sounds like an important decision..." I faked intrest. He noticed,