Allen Jones. Manslut. Player. And the most disgustingly adorable guy I'd ever seen. I hated him. But he was the love of my life, I think. Its complicated.
So he tripped into the classroom, the bell ringing seconds after it shut, signifying that he'd been late if he'd come in a minute after that.
"Do I have to go to the office?" He asked my teacher. But he clearly made it sound like he wouldn't cared one way or another.
"Nope. You're right on time." Was the blonde's short response.
"Okay good." Allen tucked in his grey shirt under his black hoodie. For a guy, Al had a really good sense of style. Maybe he'd turn gay and grow up to be a successful fashionista. That would be so awesome. But sadly, Jones was straighter than an arrow.
As he walked by my desk, I accidentally made eye contact with him. I immediately regretted looking up from my book. Here's a funfact about me: I blush way too easily. Allen caught my eye and smirked. Ugh. That smile. My thoughts decided that it would be nice to go back on the memory clock to a dark time: 5th grade.
You know what? Lets have some background information. See, back in 5th grade, I was a naive little retard. Well, naiver, because I'm still pretty innocent. Or atleast, that's what I think. Anyway, I had a huge crush on Allen Freaking Jones for the longest time. So like any smart person, you should have been able to connect the dots by now. And if you haven't well okay, we dated. The day he asked me out made me the happiest girl on Earth. Unfortunately for me, it was on and off dating. Boo hoo.
But back to the story. That idiot left me a blushing mess as he set his stuff down. I couldn't concentrate on John Green anymore. Sighing, I took a look at the black glossy clock that hung in the front of our classroom. Five till 8:20. Which meant that my PE teacher would arrive just about...now.
Mr. R walked in, holding an apple. Just looking at him made my muscles ache. He was so athletic-y. The dude's clothes screamed 'I LIKE WORKING OUT.' Dressed from head to toe in Nike, Mr. R signaled everyone to line up.
My class was isolated from the 7th grade group, since it was located in the eighth grade hallway. Our walk, or as I thought of it: march, to the PE room was short. Once inside, we did warm up stretches then headed to the gym for a not-really friendly game of dodge ball. Aesha and I were on the same team, thanks to my genius planning. The music started and the boys began attacking each other with balls.
"I hate dodge ball. And my stomach hurts." Aesha complained as we just stood off to the side and chatted.
"Its actually pretty fun. And," I roughly yanked her to the side, a red ball smashing loudly into the wall next to her. "You were about to get hit." I finished.
"Ow!? Girl, you need to cut those nails of yours." She sassed me, rolling her pretty amber brown eyes.
"Well sorry. Next time I can just let you stand there and get a broken eye and a bloody nose."
"You said that wrong. Its broken-"
"Did I stutter?"
She frowned at me,"You're so stupid."
"Says the Asian...that thought she was white...and she's darker than me." I grinned.
Aesha smiled,"True, true. I'm African Asian...I'm a fricken Asian."
"Hey! That's my name that I made for you. And you don't say it right." I whined.
"Well duck you."
"Wha?-" BAM. A ball slapped me in the eye.
She busted out laughing,"I told you to duck."
"Eesh this is not funny."
"Fine." She stifled some giggles and helped me up. "I'll be your bodyguard now, baby." And bodyguard she did. Standing in front of me she glared at the other team and in a deep raspy voice taunted them to try and attack. She's really...something. It was so funny.
So I got over my watery eye and joined the game again. And for the second time in ten minutes, I got hit. Damn balls. Someone threw a ball to my team, and I caught it so...sucks for the other team. My throwing skills are the worst, so I just targeted the nearest person: A certain Allen Jones. Waiting for the right moment to launch was quite difficult, as he was almost always facing me. Mote than once, I got a bit distracted by him. It really isn't my fault. His black hair is so perfect looking. His golden tan skin is just lovely. That smirk of his, with those dimples drives me crazy. Those cheerful, innocent-like brown eyes are just wow. And the way he talks is just unf. I saw my chance and threw. But dammit, I sneezed halfway through the throw. Tongue twister. Fortunately, I got what I desired. Woah that sounds wrong. The ball hit him right in the face and he stumbled backwards, since he was dodging a ball from the other side of the gym. I was laughing so much. He took a timeout and I walked over to him, with Aesha making kissy faces behind me. This girl.
I slid onto the bench for my team. "Hey Jones. Nice eye you got there."
He faced me and tried to glare, but ended up laughing, using one hand to cover up his teary eye. "Nice throw."
Yeah, insert sigh here. Why is he being nice? This is not part of the system. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from blushing. "Wait..What? No. Not nice throw. You're supposed to be a jerk right now. Not complimenting me. Wrong. Nope. Are you sick?" I think I tend to babble when I'm nervous.
Allen chuckled,"Okay. Lets take it from the top. I said nice throw. Yes. Yes nice throw. And I'm not a jerk, am I? B-"
"Do you really want an answer to that?" I questioned.
He grinned wickedly,"Not really. As I was saying, but its only a compliment, no worries. Right. Yes. And no I don't think I am. Unless you'd like to check for yourself~" Al winked at me. Bastard.
"You are the most confusing retard I have ever met."
"Aw don't be difficult now, Isa."
"Don't call me Isa."
"Why not, Isa?"
A small plan formed in my mind. I put my hand on his cheek and looked into his eyes. "You got a little something on your face..."
Obviously satisfied, and probably thinking that I would cave in, he blinked his soft brown eyes and smiled. "Do you mind getting that for me?~"
"Not at all." I held back a grin as I slapped his cheek. Hard. In a few instants, a red hand was tattooed on the right side of his annoyingly cute face.
"Ow!! What the fuck was that for?!" For some odd reason, seeing him in pain made me a little happy.
But I frowned and let my instincts take over, so I flicked his nose. "No cussing."
He glared at me. "If this is because I hit you twice, then I'm sorry. They were both accidents."
I immediately felt bad,"Oh my gosh I am so sorry."
"Sike. I meant to hit you. You suck at dodge ball."
"Asshole." I muttered as I stood and stormed away from him. So far my middle school experience is nothing but trouble.
