Diamonds, Loose (Ryden)

Part 7

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"So, you've got another detention."

I jump, the voice coming out of nowhere and when I slam my locker door shut, I'm met with Spencer's neutral face beside me. "You fucking scared me," I scowl jokingly at him. Then, "Wait. No I haven't?" It comes out as a question and I peer uncertainly at him.

"Phillips is looking for you—"

"Shit."

"—which I'm going to assume means, yeah, detention." He grins at me, claps me on the shoulder in that way he's perfected that knocks me off-balance but still oozes companionship. "Thought I'd give you a heads-up. Nice one, man."

I groan. "I can't be bothered with this."

"You brought it on yourself. Do your damn homework." He's scolding but kind, and when I don't smile at him he gives me a quick, tight hug, a full-body squeeze. Sounding like he's talking about more than a detention, he says, "S'okay," into my hair before he pulls away, and he leaves behind a little warmth.

"Thanks, man," I smile, and before I can say anything else a resounding, "Ryan Ross!" echoes off the walls and I turn begrudgingly to see a fuming Mr. Phillips, struggling to keep under control.

I can kind of see why he gets so worked up over me; I never do anything massively awful, but a continuous string of irritating bad things is probably way more annoying. I'd get pissed off with me.

"Yes, Sir," I half-raise a hand in acknowledgement, and he bestows a withering look unto me, quells it back down to my side where it belongs.

"You haven't given in your assessment." He really doesn't look happy.

Sighing, I scratch awkwardly at the back of my neck and say, "I forgot to hand it to you."

"Ryan," he says impatiently, stamping his foot a little, like a toddler. "There is a limit to how many times you can forget. I can't overlook all of this any longer, you need to get your act together."

"Sorry."

"You will lose your lunchtime today," he informs me with a serious face, his mouth set in a grim line, and I make the mistake of rolling my eyes. "Do not give me that attitude," he warns, "I can always make it after school, too."

"I'm busy after school," I say quietly, thinking of dark hair and dark eyes and full lips, and he says, "I don't care! Now move it, Ryan, before I make the threat a reality." I nod and give him a sickeningly fake smile, turning back to where Spencer's leaning against the lockers, waiting. I go off with him to the next lesson, and Phillips calls after me, "See you at lunch! Don't forget!"

I grunt slightly, displeased, and don't turn back. "Phillips can—"

"Suck your dick, yeah, I know," Spencer says.

Once lunch comes around, I'm in a pretty good mood, and I can even muster up a genuine smile when I step inside the Math room Phillips arranged for me to sit and while away my life working out impossible equations.

I take a seat and make an effort to get started, reasoning that if I actually do something he'll let me go, but it soon kind of fails. After about ten minutes going by the brain-meltingly slow clock, I'm sat with my elbows on the desk and both hands propping up my forehead as I stare at the page blankly.