| 8 |
❝ Are you a camera? Because every time I look at you, I smile. ❞
AS SHE WALKED down the hall to her next class, Charlie noticed Malcolm to her right, bounding towards her.
Slamming her locker shut, her books rested in her arms, she greeted Malcolm as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder with a blinding smile on his face.
"'Sup, Char?" he grinned, walking down the hall with her.
He was so at ease with her, something that shocked her to the bone. Her stomach fluttered at the sight of his dreamy, hazel eyes on her, a slight sigh escaping her lips.
Charlotte blinked and bit her lip, realizing she'd done that out loud. "Oh, hey."
"All I get is an 'oh, hey'?" he teased, squeezing her body to his lightly. She sucked in a deep breath.
"Sorry," she whispered, holding her books to her chest. "I've just been a little-"
Her words were cut off when she was suddently thrown forward, a body slamming into her in a side check. Charlie crumpled to the floor with her books strewn across the ground, a cry of pain escaping her lips.
She lay on the tile floor without any attempt to get up, clutching her shoulder with a hiss of pain, squinting her eyes shut and biting her lip.
Malcolm entered her sight, crouched down before her and asking if she was alright. After Charlotte replied with a weak, "yes," he stormed over to where a heavily muscled jock was guffawing with his friends.
Charlie glanced at Malcolm who looked thoroughly pissed. A wave of fury was crossing his face. His eyes flashed and his jaw clenched, a vein stood out on his neck and his fists were clenched in tight balls.
Charlie starting getting up, putting her weight on her forearms, which got her on her knees.
The jock coughed loudly with a smirk and started to walk away, but not before he could whisper loudly, "Watch where you're walking next time, bi-"
Malcolm sprung onto him, his right hand curling around the collar of his shirt and throwing him against a row of lockers. Charlie scrambled backwards, watching the pair, horrified.
Malcolm had him pinned against the lockers, his hands on either side of the wall next to the jock's face. "Don't you dare finish that sentence."
"Fuck off, geek," the jock mumbled, flattened against the wall.
Malcolm, a complete nerd from what she's seen of him, was currently pinning a two hundred pound guy to the wall. His fingers curled in his palm and his jaw tightened, his teeth scraping together.
"Pick them up." Malcolm's face was contorted in anger, his nose flaring and his lips tightened as he scolded the asshole.
Charlotte was on her knees, gathering her books. She had been doing this a lot lately, first picking up her books from when she was with Shane, and now this. She was also in a lot of pain. Her shoulder now killed, along with her goose-egg sized bump on her forehead from slamming it on her locker.
"Charlotte, stop," Malcolm's voice was cold and chilling, making Charlie freeze. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the crowd of people gasping and staring. "Apologize."
"No way man, wh-"
"And pick up her books."
Charlotte shook her head, gulping. "Malcolm, it's fine, we're going to be late to class."
"No, Charlotte," he stated, glaring at the jock intensely. He turned to the muscled guy with a nerve ticking in his neck. "Pick them up."
Malcolm let the guy go and shoved him towards her books. The jock squatted and gathering them all, handing them to Charlie.
YOU ARE READING
A Note A DayTeen Fiction
Anxiety-ridden, nightmare expert Charlotte 'Charlie' Jackson has been receiving witty, heartwarming, anonymous notes since the beginning of the school year. One afternoon, Charlie notices she did not find a note for the first time all year and sudd...