He lowered his head towards me, a cocky grin spreading across his lips as he raked his eyes across my body before landing them back on mine.
I clicked my tongue in annoyance before averting my eyes, ignoring the blush that threatened to run across...
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CHAPTER ELEVEN HELL OF A RIGHT HOOK!
LIFE IS UNPREDICTABLE.
I've experienced its indecisiveness first hand. I know what it feels like to think you're getting one thing, only to receive the other. The first time it happened I was on the brink of sleep, awaiting for my father's call as I struggled to eat a cut up piece of fruit. My eyes were constantly glued to the phone placed in front of me, all I wanted to hear was my father's voice announcing that my little brother was born. Little did I know, Adrian was an Arianna, a bundle of joy the doctors accidentally misplaced for a boy.
The second time it happened, I thought I was going to finally have my first kiss. Head held high as I walked into the house, ignoring the bubbling nerves rolling around in my stomach. Fifteen year old me walked in with a multitude of ideas roaming through her head. She was thrown excited smiles; only for those smiles to hold an extensive amount of cruelty. She walked out with tears dripping down her cheeks. Laughter rang behind her. Life was cruel.
The third time was when Theodore Camden shocked me to my core with the words that came out of his mouth. 'We can just move to my house, it's easier. Plus, soccer practices have moved from mainly at the end of the day to during lunch and after school.' The words rang through my head the rest of the day, mind spinning with reasons as to why he said that.
To make it worse, he didn't clarify anything. He said it with no confusion whatsoever, no hesitance. His face was stuck in its default form—lips pressed in a thin line, eyebrows furrowed and eyes unfocused, his dimples hidden in plain sight.
To know if he was actually listening to what you had to say, one would have to look at the change in features. If he was annoyed, his fingers would twitch. Once. Twice. Before he got rid of the thing that annoyed him. ( Which was usually me. ) If he was amused, his eyes would shine with something akin to mischief before dimming. And if he was paying attention, his eyes would be stuck to everything you did—something that took me ages to figure out.
At first, I thought he was being creepy on purpose, those green eyes of his watching every movement of mine with rapt attention. Only to find out that was his way of staying focused, most of the time. At others, he would stare at everything but the person who was speaking. Which again, was me.
I didn't know Theodore Camden enough to know why he did what he did. Why he frowned when writing in his notebook, why he seemed so cold on the surface when under it; he held a large amount of humor.
Brushing off the thought or thoughts because they were multiple. He was invading my mind with those stupid nonchalant words of his.
I let out a sigh—too loud perhaps because I was shushed by ten different people for just letting out a breath. "Alright, I'm sorry." I rolled my eyes in exasperation as the words left my lips, overdramatic. They were shushing me for Hamlet, not that I have anything against the book but seriously. I can't listen to the people reading without wanting to throw myself out of the window broadcasting stormy clouds.
