Great, another thing to add to my list of thinking.
The bell rings and I head to calculus class.
"Notes, notes, notes. Bring out your notebooks, we're reviewing," Mrs. Stan says as everyone takes their seats.
The last bell rings and the teacher starts asking questions. It's 8:30 in the morning lady, please just give us a minute.
"Limits predict what?" Nobody answers. "Yes, Mr. Rivera?" Or so I thought.
"Limits predict the value of a function at the given point."
I roll my eyes and shake my head.
"Good job. Now, derivatives give what?"
If Elijah answers then obviously I have to answer more. My hand shoots up. "Yes, Lavender?"
"Derivatives give the rate of change of a function," I state proudly.
"Very good. Integrals calculate what?"
"Area," Elijah and I say in unison.
"Which is the opposite of derivatives!" I assert in a rush.
"Very good you two! Let's move on to some number questions." Mrs. Stan claps and pivots to walk toward the whiteboard.
I turn to Elijah behind me. "I know what you're doing. Knock it off."
"What am I doing, Quinn? I thought I was just answering the teacher's question, no?"
"No, you douchebag."
I aggressively turn back to Mrs. Stan and write down the questions she puts on the board.
I feel a kick on the back of my shoe. "Leave me alone," I mumble, trying to focus on the notes.
I feel another kick and turn around. "What do you need?"
"How's your hand? Can you write?"
I shake my head at him in disbelief. I sigh. "I'm ambidextrous, thank you."
"Of course you are." Elijah smiles.
Scoffing, I look back and finish writing the notes with my left hand.
I've noticed Elijah gets most annoying in school. At least outside of school, it's manageable. But when we're in this building it seems like he gets more... clingy? Not that I mind it, it's cute. I mean, not that Elijah's cute. I mean he is but it's not like that. Maybe I should stop thinking about my annoying... friend? Rival? Frenemy? I have no idea what we are.
I need to focus on my notes.
The hour is over and the bell rings. I pack up my notebook and head to my locker. I grab my English book and apply my lipgloss in the little mirror I have hanging up.
"Hey, beautiful."
"Go away, Noah."
"I miss your lips." He mumbles. Trying to touch my face, I smack his hand away.
"I don't care," I groan. "What do you need? Seriously?"
I tend to forget me and Noah have a past. And not a good one at that.
"It's November first," Noah admits.
"Okay? Congratulations?"
Noah smirks at me and I get an uneasy feeling. "I'm inviting you to my eighteenth birthday party next weekend."
"And when have I ever come with you? Literally," I argue with a sarcastic smile on my face.
"You're funny. You know, feel free to come whenever you'd like, I wouldn't want it to interfere with your Dad's birthday."
YOU ARE READING
Lavender
Teen Fiction"He definitely wants to sleep with you," he taunts. "Excuse me?" I look at him weirdly, "What are you even talking about." "The way he touched your arm. That's what people do when they wanna fuck someone." He looks down at his paper and continues to...
