dance for you ~fransykes~

18

"Remind me to never let you mark my work again." I roll my eyes at the short, blue eyes guy sitting across from me, who I have mentally nicknamed The Silent Ninja.

"I still can't believe you like him." Vegan butts in, making me snap my attention to him as I raise my eyebrows in disbelief, crossing my arms over my chest as I immediately get defensive.

"Wow, what is that suppose to mean." I snap, causing Jordan and Matt to snigger as Vegan holds his hands up in defence, shifting around in the plastic school chair uncomfortably.

"Well, he's just a bit...you know...odd." Vegan mutters, confidence draining from his voice as he trails off into silence.

"You don't know anything about him." I shrug defensively.

"And you do? Have you even heard some of the things people say about him? The rumours are weird Josh, like really weird?" Vegan says.

"They're just rumours though, no one takes them too seriously." Jordan shoots back, smothering one of his chips in ketchup before shoving in into his mouth ungracefully.

"Would anybody care to enlighten me on what exactly these rumours are? I think I have a right to know seen as though I'm the one actually going after the boy that they are about." I say, eyes darting between Vegan and Jordan who are currently sharing some kind of eye-contact conversation between them, their blinks almost like a secret code between them that I fail to translate.

"Well-" Vegan starts, shutting his gob immediately when he glances behind me, a sheepish look appearing on his face as he suddenly looks down at the table like he's been caught doing something he shouldn't.

I look at him questionably, wondering why the whole table has fallen into silence. Then I feel a soft hand tap against my shoulder, so hesitant and light that I hardly feel it through my thick denim jacket. I look over my shoulder, my eyes meeting with none other than Oliver Sykes himself. Speak of the devil.

Oliver is wearing his signature black hoodie, black ripped jeans that show slits of the pale skin of his thighs, and yellow high tops with rainbow stripped socks peeping out. His hair is scruffy, wild curls falling around his sharp cheekbones and the chunky frames of his glasses. His dark eyes gleam emerald green as sunlight strikes across his face, pouring in from the ceiling windows. I look up at his timid face, his eyes holding hesitation as his posture remains guarded and slumped.

"Hey." I say softly, unsure of what else to say after not speaking to him for days. The day after we met up in the dance studio I tried to talk to him, but he was being really awkward and shy around me, leaving the air between us pretty tense. We hadn't spoken since except for during our group project work, and it had been over a week.

There was so much I wanted to say to him, and at the same time nothing at all.

I couldn't get the image of him at the dace studio out of my head, the way his body had moved so confident and free, the way his routine told a wordless story. He was so carefree that night, making flirty jokes and always catching my eye. It was amazing to see that side of him, it was like I had uncovered a whole new person underneath the disguise of timidity he wore at school.

"Are you free after lunch?" He asks shyly, voice quite and doe eyes flickering everywhere but my face.

The butterflies in my stomach flutter at the thought of him wanting to hang out with me, a million possibilities flying through my head, of course most of them being of us kissing...and of course other stuff of that nature as well. What did you expect? I am a teenage boy after all, lustfully craving another boy, even after society tired to brainwash me that such thoughts were wrong.