Something Bad

Chapter Four: Your Own Personal Stalker!

       “It’s not a diary,” I mumbled firmly, wondering how many times I had had to correct her on the small fact. My notebook was not a diary. Diaries were what wimpy girls had to jot down all their feelings about boys and drama. To put it simply, my notebook wasn’t.

       “Mind if I sit down?” Luke inquired, averting his eyes to look at Piper, flashing her a smile I was more than sure he deemed “charming.” What. A. Tool.

       “Livy, Luke Daniels just asked to sit with us!” Piper squealed as if the boy to whom she was referring hadn’t been less than a foot away. Luke coughed, trying to make his presence known once again to a slightly flustered Piper, who tried to conjure up a coherent answer. “Uh, no, n-not at all!”

       Piper pulled out the seat next to her, indicating for him to sit. Being the absolute prick that he was, he decided to do things the hard way and leisurely make his way over to my side of the table, sitting next to me. Jerk.

       “So, what were two just talking about?” he asked casually, suspending an arm over the back of my chair.

       “You!” Piper gushed. Luke exposed a satisfied smirk, the comment probably boosting his unhealthy ego more than should have been legal.

       “Can you leave?” I requested, managing to falter his expression momentarily, and replace it with complete and utter confusion.

       “Livy!” Piper scolded, ogling the bad boy wannabe who, for some unknown reason, was sitting with us at lunch. “Don’t be rude!”

       “Yeah, Livy! Don’t be rude!” Luke mocked.

       “I wasn’t try to,” I said honestly. “Now, can you please leave?” I hated manners. There was something about them seemed so… fake! Why go through all the bullshit of dressing words up all ornately, instead of saying what you really meant, straight up? Etiquette was one of the many things in life and society that never truly made a whole lot of sense to me.

       “No,” Luke said, slouching slightly in his seat, as he propped his feet on the edge of the wooden table.

       Piper’s eyes grew wide with shock, as I shook my head, his activities not fazing me the slightest bit. “Chill, Pipes, he’s just a poser,” I said in a hushed tone, though loud enough so that Luke could hear the last four words as clear as could be.

       Immediately following my attempt in consolation, the said “poser” shot up. He was towering over me, as an emotion that could only be described as fury was portrayed throughout his entire stature. Well, someone wasn’t happy. It was amazing how some people had the talent to go from being serener than a sloth at one minute, only to do a complete one-eighty the next, as Luke had so kindly demonstrated.

       “What did you just call me?” he demanded loudly, seeking not only my attention, but also that of every other person with ears within a ten-foot radius of our table in the great, arched eatery. His narrowed eyes were filled with an intensity directed solely to me, as he repeated the question: “What did you just call me?” What. A. Drama. King.

       “A poser,” I retorted, my voice surprisingly calm as the eyes of a few others were on me, as well. I hated attention, to be perfectly honest. If I had a choice to be in the metaphorical spotlight or not, I’d  most definitely opt for being on stage crew, behind the scenes. I liked being imperceptible. I wasn’t the type of person who fed off of attention, or had a need to be the focus all the time. Invisibility was what I strived for most days, though it was harder to achieve than most expected.