𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑- 𝐋𝐈𝐋 𝐏𝐄𝐄𝐏

𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑- 𝐉𝐎𝐘

𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋.

That was for sure, as I sat in that stuffy classroom in the scorching heat. I had my work sprawled out on the desk in front of me whilst music played through my cheap white earphones.

My head was leant on my hands as Miss Morris droned monotonously on about cells, a topic that I couldn't care less about.

My mechanical pen was scratching lines into my paper, the only source of entertainment I could find in the boring class of biology.

The bell rang, barely overpowering my favourite song as I scraped my belongings into my bag and left the classroom. Molly shoved past me, barging my shoulder in the process.

"Watch it, bitch!" I yelled as her pink heels trotted the floor past me, the annoying noise stopped as she turned around.

"What did you say to me?" she asked in her shrill voice, flicking her blonde hair behind her.

"I said 'watch it, bitch'" I repeated, taking a step forward at the same time she took one in my direction.

She laughed slightly, as if she was in disbelief that someone was challenging her 'queen-bee' status. She dropped her hot pink bag to the floor and kept her pace as she trotted in my direction, I did the same and stomped up to her.

"You better watch it, druggie. Or you'll end up like your sister. She's dead, right?"

I snapped at that, head-butting her, watching as her nose bled with thick red liquid. She touched her finger to it, looking at the contents leaking from the injury before charging at me.

I managed to move away before she could wrap her arms around my waist, resulting in the smack of her falling to the floor and her shriek once I climbed on top of her and punched the pasty white skin on her face.

She managed to grab the material of my cropped white t-shirt, ragging me around slightly whilst I pushed her forehead with the palm of my hand.

There was a crowd around us now, all chanting 'fight! fight! fight!' whilst holding there phones out or pumping their fists in the air like in the typical high-school movies. Molly managed to get one punch in, squaring her fist into my nose- she just managed to get one hit in in between my assault on her face.

Someone's arms pulled me off the blonde as mine pummelled her face, the arms belong to a teacher as they dragged me to the principles office.

And that was when I saw him, sat in an office chair and swirling around the room with his arms in the air, whistling a tune to himself.

"Mr Arh," the teacher dragging me announced, gaining his attention and making him stand up, "would you mind letting Principal Kimber know I have someone here to see her?"

He looked at the ground, scratching the back of his neck and I remember thinking in this moment that, as he awkwardly smiled at me, he was the cutest boy I had ever seen.

"Uh, yeah. I would, except, she's not here..."

The teacher groaned, letting go of my purple t-shirt and shoving me in the direction of a cheap plastic chair.

"Wait there, Miss. Gustav, could you keep an eye on her until the principal gets back?," he asked, not waiting for an answer from him as he left the office.

I sighed, waiting for him to say something, except didn't.

Instead, he emptied the tissue box onto the office desk and crumpled them all into his ungodly large hands. He stalked over to me with his long legs and dumped them in my lap, walking back over to the desk and sitting cross-legged on it.

"What happened to your nose?" he asked after a while, playing with a stapler that was somewhere on the desk, stapling random pieces of paper together.

"'Got into a fight with that Molly bitch," I explained, shoving the white tissues up my bleeding nose and wondering around the office, "so, do they just trust you in here like, all the time?"

He nodded, crumpling the stapled pages up and throwing them in the air like a tennis ball, "basically. We've only got 20 minutes until the last bell anyway the principal won't be back in time to kick your ass".

I smiled at his teasing, flipping him of and taking a seat on the counter opposite him, knee touching knee. "name?"

He grabbed a whiteboard pen and hopped of the desk, walking over to the whiteboard mounted on the wall. The pen was green and only half working, but I could still manage to decipher the name he had scrawled on the wall.

He has messy handwriting, the kind that, if you didn't squint, you wouldn't be able to read it properly.

ᧁꪊ𝘴𝓽ꪖꪜ.

"Is it meant to be that messy?," I teased, sliding off the deep blue desk and yanking the pen from his hands.

"Yes, actually. I call it my 'sexy whiteboard writing'," he told me matter-of-factly, snatching back and moving the pen around whilst I tried to grab it, subsequently handing it to me once I held his arm down.

I wrote my name on the board, my handwriting considerably neater than his.

𝐽𝑂𝑌 ✿