the populars | damon

1

DAVID

IT WAS IMPOSSIBLE not to watch them. They were all beautiful people. They crowded around their lunch table, laughing. Fifteen years old yet so free of worry. No one ever dared to sit there. It was as though their name was written there in invisible ink. The group had this aura around them, an atmosphere that made no one cross them.

The dark haired boy always caught my eye. Today he wore black, torn jeans, a white t-shirt that was taught against his tanned complexion, and a ripped denim jacket that hung lose on him due to his toned, skinny figure. He was smaller than all the other boys, around 5ft7, but he didn't let it affect him. He had this charisma about him, this personality and confidence that made it difficult not to have a crush on him.

All the girls fancied him, and if it wasn't him they liked, it was his friends.

There was Dylan Love. His skinny figure, six pack and blonde hair made him the heart throb of girls. He held piercing blue orbs in his eyes and a charming grin was always playing on his mouth. Today he wore acid washed jeans, a black top and his navy letterman jacket. He never went anywhere without the jacket and whatever girl he was dating at the time would wear it whenever he wasn't.

We mustn't forget Cole Wright. There was something odd and mysterious about the boy that made him alluring. He had jet black hair and eyes so dark they could be black. His pale complexion and tall lanky figure was attractive in such a weird way. He almost looked like he belonged in a vampire movie, wearing a black sweater and black jeans, with black vans.

None of them had girlfriends at the moment, so the trio could walk around like they owned the place. On moral high grounds, they did. What they said went. They were the star football players at Beachwood High, they smoked, they drank and they had way too much sex. But all the girls loved them.

You're probably wondering why I know so much about them. The truth is, I know a lot about a lot of people. I'm not some kind of crazy stalker, I just listen. I pay attention to what goes on around me because nothing exciting goes on including me.

"Simon, give me the fucking phone!" Cole exclaimed at the dark haired boy as Dylan's contagious laugh echoed throughout the lunch hall. I couldn't help but glance over once more and watch as a smirk appeared on Simon's face as his fingers quickly typed, Cole leaning over the table to grab the iPhone off of him. He succeeded, making Simon huff and roll his eyes, turning back to the plate of food next to him.

He picked on his fries as he scanned the room around him. I watched as Dylan nudged both of them and nodded his head towards the group of cheerleaders who had just walked in. Cole smirked a little and I saw his eyes cascade over the girls' figures. Dylan did the same but I captivated my vision on Simon, who ignored their nudges and continued to look around the room. His gaze met mine and I immediately turned bright red, averting my eyes to my food and hoping that the blush which was creeping up my face was not evident.

From the corner of my eye I saw him smile a little before turning back to the boys, who were now talking to the cheerleaders who had made their way to the table. In my opinion, they all looked like Barbie dolls who had taken way too much lip filler and had straightened their hair so much that it looked like it would fall out any second. I only thought that because I was jealous. Not jealous of who they are, but jealous of the fact that they can speak to him without a reason. I wanted to speak to him without a reason.

Simon excused himself from the table and headed outside. We had one lesson till the end of the day, and it was ten minutes before lunch ended. He would probably be going to smoke round by the bike sheds.