Stay Close✔️

01: Go Out With Style

As seniors, though, no one really cared much about anything except sports and colleges. No one hated anyone anymore, really. I had moved schools as well, though, so I didn't know if it was just the different schools or the different maturity levels.

At the end of lunch, I was always one of the firsts to leave because I didn't eat lunch and had no trash to throw away. When I got up and turned for the door, I ran into a rock hard chest, an expletive or two, and a tray full of spaghetti and a cup of water.

"Watch where you're going!" he snapped.

I cringed from the voice and glared up at an unhealthily beautiful boy with obvious abs, now that there was water making his shirt cling to his stomach.

"Don't you eat your spaghetti?" I said incredulously, looking down at my now spaghetti-covered hoodie. "Or did you just watch it for the whole period?"

"Watch yourself," he warned.

"Why? Your only weapon is now smeared all over my favorite hoodie," I retorted in anger. "I was literally standing there and all I did was turn around. I legit didn't move from this spot. You would have run into me whether I'd turned around or not."

"Your point?" he demanded.

"Were you expecting me to disappear?" I asked in annoyance. "Or did you just think you could walk through me?"

Gladly enough, the bustling of bodies ready to get out of the cafeteria was too loud for our bickering to be noticed. With that, I stormed out of the room and found my locker.

I was so lucky to have worn a t-shirt under my hoodie for once.

Once I'd ridden myself of the smelly hoodie, I shoved it into my locker and glared down at my shirt. "Your locker will smell like spaghetti, now," he said, coming up behind me.

"Did I invite you over to talk to me?" I asked irritably.

"Didn't need to. The invitation was written all over your face," he said sarcastically. "Besides, spaghetti smells good," he added with a shrug.

"I hate spaghetti," I muttered, shoving my locker shut and grabbing my backpack. He kept pace with me.

"So, I guess it was my fault I got spaghetti all over your hoodie," he admitted reluctantly.

"Realize that, did you?" I said with a nod. "Glad you caught up."

"No need to be sassy," he said with the wave of his hands. "I'm just telling you that I was in the wrong."

"I noticed," I said dryly. "Your point is? You're sorry?"

"No, I just wanted to tell you that so you didn't think I was totally horrible," he explained.

"Gotcha."

My speed increased, but he kept up with aggravating ease. "Can I help you? If not, I'm going to just go on to EAST," I said in annoyance.

"I have EAST, too," he said with a grin. "I was wondering why you were following me." I whirled around and fixed him with a glare.

"If your mission is to annoy me, I'd say you've done a good job. So you can, like, stop now," I told him. His grin widened in amusement and I snorted.

"Well, that wasn't my mission at first, but you're cute when you're annoyed, so I think I'll just continue," he shrugged. I snorted and finally arrived to the classroom.

When I sat down in my usual seat, I quickly logged into the computer and looked over my videos of the elementary kids and their painting videos. My project had been to have all of them paint their hands and put their prints on a mural for the front of the school.