Physical Education was the equivalent of Hell. Making us run two rounds around a track the size of the Olympus Coliseum was asking too much. Add to that my tendency towards mental exercise rather than physical strain and you won't have an inspiring vote of confidence. Completing the two rounds took approximately two and a half hours, at least in my case.
Winded, I sat in the bleachers and chugged a whole bottle of iced water. "Tired already, Sierra? But you didn't even run three rounds," Sophia sneered.
"Oh, really?" I asked loudly. "We both know you didn't even finish the first round," I mocked stage-whispered. Willa, a senior in our school, overheard our conversation and snorted as she walked past us with her friends. Sophia glared at me.
If looks could kill, I'm pretty sure by now that I'd be lying on the floor, I thought dryly.
Dismissing Sophia entirely, I inspected my nails for grime. Frustrated, she huffed and turned away, leaving me alone with my empty water bottle. In the midst of daydreaming, I saw Coach Wilson beckoning me over. Walking over to him, I asked, "Yes, sir?"
"O'Neil, you're on duty for today. Collect the hoops and basketballs, and put it in the storeroom." I nodded and set to picking up the hoops and basketballs off the floor before making my way towards the storeroom.
The back of my neck prickled, as if someone's watching me. I turned back but saw only Coach Wilson talking to a junior. Shrugging, I balanced the hoops and basketballs precariously on my thin arms as I tried to open the door. A pale hand beat me to it.
"Need some help?" Owen mumbled. I desperately needed help but didn't want to seem helpless. Frowning, I took a step around him and walked into the storeroom. He followed me closely behind. Dumping the hoops and basketballs into the rectangular containers, I dusted my hands.
He continued to silently watch me as I secured the lid of the containers. If my ears weren't sharp I could have missed his next words.
"Why do you pretend to be tough?" He asked. Stiffening, I stood up from my crouch and faced him squarely in the eye.
"Really? I wasn't aware I was pretending. Tell me then, what makes you think so," I answered menacingly. I absolutely despised it when someone acts as if they know me well after exchanging a few words with me. I also hated it when someone attempts to get in my personal space. Owen is accomplishing both pet peeves really well.
For his part, Owen stood his ground despite green eyes flickering with doubt. "Relax. I'm just curious," he joked. Trying for a lighthearted smile, I rolled my eyes.
"I'm sorry. Just that it's a touchy spot," I amended. Hugging my arms, I continued. "You really shouldn't be seen with me. You'd just spoil your reputation as a hot transfer student."
Now it was his turn to roll his eyes. "Pshaw. A reputation as a hot transfer student? You flatter me. I'm pretty sure that they've already labelled me as an emo freak," he joked and in spite of myself I started laughing. Smiling easily, he cocked his head to the side while regarding me intensely.
"You really should laugh more, actually. You look prettier when you smile," he remarked. Suddenly self-conscious, I pulled my navy gym shirt down and fingered with my messy pinned-up hair. He grabbed the hand I used to finger my hair.
"Don't. Don't do that. You're pretty enough as it is. I-I mean all girls are naturally pretty," he stammered. Releasing his gentle grip on my wrist, he rubbed the back of his neck in an almost awkward way.
"So, I guess we better get out of this dank storeroom." However, the doorknob wouldn't turn when I tried twisting it. That's funny. I could have sworn the door was open when we were in here.
After a few more unsuccessful attempts at twisting the doorknob, we resorted to banging on the door.
"Hey! Anybody there? Open the door!" Banging the door until our fists were bruised, it finally occurred to us that no one was going to help us anytime soon. Slumped onto the floor, my head banged weakly against the door.
My thoughts scattered. What would happen if we actually did stay in here? Would I die not knowing if I will ever get my Masters? Hell, would I be writhing on the floor due to lack of oxygen 10 minutes from now?
Stuck in this dark, dank enclosed place. Lips trembling with shaky fingers, it completely escaped my notice that Owen's face was less than ten inches away from mine.
"Hey, hey. It's going to be okay, I promise," he reassured, prying my shaky hands from my face. I hadn't realized I was covering my face.
The inky darkness threatened to steal my every breath. My heart raced as fast as a speeding train and white blankness lurked at the corner of my mind. Memories rushed to the surface; of ten-year-old me accidentally locking myself in the small faulty toolshed, crying my eyes out.
"T-this place is too small it's almost suffocating. I can't breathe." Throat constricting, hands clawed at my neck. However, a sharp pain across my cheek penetrated my hysteria. What the?
"Get a hold of yourself, Sierra. Losing it isn't going to help us so if I have to beat that into your senseless head, then so I will," Owen ordered fiercely.
He scooted back, determined blue eyes holding my teary gaze.
The shock of the white-hot pain vanished, leaving a trail of an eerie calm in its wake.
Common sense slowly seeped back into my brain. Owen was right; I should be searching for a solution instead of mindlessly shrieking. I was Sierra O'Neil, the calm sensible student, not Sierra O'Neil the crybaby. However-
"Owen, did you really just slap me?" Wonder colored my incredulity.
He ducked his head, mumbling, "It seemed like the only way to make you listen."
Admiration and respect were my strongest emotions at the moment. That he could keep a level head in times of extreme duress such as this baffled and pleased me. Scooting forward until we were knee-to-knee I began, "Owen, that was really smart of you. So-" But before I could get any further, the storeroom door flew open.
"Whoa, are we interrupting something?" Standing in the doorway was Ethan Zachary slurping a strawberry smoothie with Vane Kelly whom was carrying basketballs in his arms.
YOU ARE READING
The Bad and The Naughty
Romance"Admit it. You find me so desirable that you can't bear to be apart from me," I teased Owen. "Yes, I will admit that you get under my skin so much that I can't wait to jump you," Owen replied seriously. That shut me up effectively. A strong silent t...
