The Relationship Writer

The Relationship Writer - Chapter 12

Saw Monte Carlo today. Even though the climax was EXTREMELY FRUSTRATING, it was extremely adorable. Cute movie, cuuuute movie. :3

Ohh, and cute guys ;)

Hehe, enjoy!

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Chapter 12

I tried my best not to seem like a creeper and just hover around Mr. Wright's desk. Not that I am a creeper, I'm just nervous. And when I get nervous, I tend to hover.

I looked down at my fingernails and winced. Another nervous habit of mine: nail biting. But it's a perfectly common habit, nervous or not. I mean, it's even used as an adjective sometimes. 'A nail-biting situation.' It's completely normal.

I made a face when I looked over now uneven nails. The habit may be normal, but the extent to which I take it, is not.

It's moments like these where I need duct tape, just to wrap it around my fingertips and prevent them from being gnawed to the cuticles.

I instinctively looked over at Aaron, who was literally laidback. He was just leaning back in his chair, his hands clasped behind his head. He didn't look the least bit anxious.

I could learn from him.

I guess I was staring for a while, because Aaron's eyes flickered over to me. He smirked and wagged his eyebrows, wearing an expression that said, wait no, screamed, "Take a picture, it'll last longer." I scowled, rolling my eyes. I returned my gaze to Mr. Wright's desk.

The final draft of the article was the only thing on his desk, other than the metal cup of pencils and a small container of Tic Tacs.

Tic tac. Tic tac. Tic tac tic tac tic tac.

I quickly moved my gaze from the breathmints back to the article, where Mr. Wright had begun tapping his pen all over the paper, making small red marks here and there. My eyes could barely keep up with how fast he was moving, but my brain couldn't even begin to understand what was going on.

Sure, I've watched Mr. Wright check articles before, but not like this.

I whipped my head around to tell Aaron, my ponytail slapping me in the face. I flinched, causing Aaron to chuckle. I shot him a menacing glare. He just smirked at me, amusement dancing across his features. I scowled and turned around, crossing my arms. Pfft, well now I'm not talking to him.

I almost jumped when I heard one last, loud tap on the paper. My eyes widened slightly when I saw the article. It looked like it had a severe case of chicken pox.

"What are all those red dots supposed to mean?" Aaron said bluntly, suddenly at my side. Once again, I almost jumped. I shot Aaron a look.

"I was counting. For points," Mr. Wright said simply. I frowned.

"Points? For a final grade?" I asked. Mr. Wright just chuckled. My frown deepened.

"No, Miss Evans. I keep records of the amount of points each article receives," he explained. "I only do it for single-person columns, though. Solitary articles receive letter grades. At the end of the semester, whichever column receives the most points, receives a grand prize."

Aaron cocked an eyebrow. "Which is?" he said. Mr. Wright gave us a knowing look.

"The choice of another column to head, or the choice to give another person their own column," he said. My eyebrows shot up as my eyes widened.

"That's fantastic," I said quietly. But even though I was so quiet about it, my insides were throwing a party. This is perfect.

Once I help Aaron's article get the most points, he'll certainly give me his column. I mean, come on. Writing a column for journalism class is probably the last thing Aaron would want to do for the rest of his high school years. I, on the other hand, would be more than happy to take his spot.

I was suddenly overwhelmed with motivation.

"And how many points did we get?" Aaron asked curiously, placing his hand on Mr. Wright's desk and leaning over it. Mr. Wright smiled at us.

"One hundred and twenty-two," he said, "which is quite a lot for such a short article. Not to mention the most in the class so far."

All of a sudden, I let out an excited squeal. I quickly slapped my hand over my mouth, suppressing whatever excited chipmunk was left in me. I felt my face flush as both Mr. Wright and Aaron stared at me. I didn't drop my hands from my face when I said, "I'm going outside now."

Completely humiliated, I dragged myself to the door and pulled it open. I closed it behind me and leaned on it. My face felt hotter than a volcano on the sun. And it was probably redder than a tomato. If either of those things are even possible.

I waited around for a few minutes, trying to calm my flaming cheeks. But no matter how many times I pinched them, slapped them, or puffed them out, they still remained fiery hot.

The door behind me opened, and I was thrust forwards into the hallway. I tripped over a raised crack in the tile, and I knew what was coming next. I braced myself.

But I never hit the ground. I felt strong arms wrap around me and pull me back up, so that I collided with something hard. I winced slightly.

"You're such a clutz," Aaron said in his usual amused tone, right in my ear. If there was anything that could calm my blush down... it most definitely wasn't that.

"Sh-Shut up. Let m-me go," I stuttered, trying to remove myself from Aaron. But he laughed lightly and pulled me closer. I whimpered.

"What, you don't like being so close? I thought you did," Aaron said. I began squirming.

"You're insufferable," I muttered. "Just let me go."

Aaron just laughed again, but this time, he actually did let me go. Suddenly, I felt cold. Well, not necessarily cold, but there was just... a lack of warmth. I frowned. Aaron chuckled and ruffled my hair.

"Stop frowning, Riley. Don't be so eager," he said smugly, tossing his bookbag over his shoulder. My jaw dropped and I stared at him. But I quickly recovered and narrowed my eyes.

"You--" I started, but Aaron cut me off with a sly smile.

"You're coming over again. Mr. Wright said we need another article for Friday," he said. Before I could even register his words, Aaron started walking away. I stayed frozen to the spot, clearly outraged.

Another entire week with Aaron?!

Kill me now.