4: oops!

5K 183 18
                                    

_____________________________________________________

FADE INTO YOU — MAZZY STAR

"you live your life, you go in shadows / you'll come apart and you'll go black"

_____________________________________________________

FOUR: OOPS!


This day is going way too fast for my liking, not that it's particularly a bad thing. The break has sped by and I'm being ushered into my next lesson by a young male teacher with a mane of dirty blonde hair scraped back into a bun and a tattoo gleaming out of his collar as if he'd tried his best to hide a bad decision. Nope, you can still see the dagger as if it's stabbing him in the back. 

"Hello, class," he says as we all pile in one at a time. He glances at me as I walk in and offers me that smile. Great, is there anyone who doesn't know I'm the girl who needs to have an eye kept on her at all times, just in case I decide the media studies class is the perfect time to commit suicide? I dreaded the whole entire class. Human interaction, along with contact, is not my forte. I'm not entirely sure I'm actually good at anything except feeling sorry for myself. I've never been good at talking, let alone smiling, so college is incredibly hard for me to get through on a daily basis. Although, attendance is key, and here I am. 

I groan as someone brushes past my back. They touched me, something my body responds to in a way even I can't comprehend. A fire ignited within me as I flinch away from their accidental touch. Accidental. It was as if nobody around here knew what personal space meant. I yearned never to be touched by anyone but, when someone did come into contact with me, it was as if they were lighting fire amongst the ice. I felt an odd feeling in the pit of my stomach; I'm not quite sure whether I enjoyed the feeling or not. 

"Don't touch me!" I spurt without a reasonable thought, turning around to glare at them. I felt a little defeated, and maybe a little overdramatic. Definitely a little overdramatic. Another thing to add to my list of flaws. I was a defeatist and I never tried to get over anything. I couldn't just let something go. If it wasn't directly saying something, I'd turn to passive aggression. 

It's only human interaction. How hard could it be? I can do it, I know I can.

It was the boy. Mr Hazel Eyes. He was smiling that stupid, dorky but sweet smile that I almost reciprocated. He had dimples that made his smile even more inviting, dammit. Human contact aside, he seemed like an alright boy. Calling someone alright was a lot for me, maybe I was changing for the better. He was overly friendly, something I wasn't used to, and his hair flopped over his forehead like shade protecting him from the sun at all times. He didn't seem like someone who would bully me for my peculiar taste in music, or my odd sense of 'fashion'. Dare I say, he seemed kind. 

"Sorry," he mutters, choosing to sit next to me. At least he apologised, I haven't come across many people who possess even basic manners around here. This college is full of snobby and idiotic students that are so far up their own asses it feels like a crime to go more than a metre near them. That's half the reason why I hate so many of the students here; they're all so self-entitled and have never worked for anything, ever. I resonate more with the teachers but they don't want to talk to some clueless child. 

I roll my eyes. Great. Now I feel bad. 

"Hi again," he whispers as the teacher drones on about movie trailers. I wasn't listening to the teacher and I sure as hell wasn't paying attention to this adamant and self-assured boy. Okay, I clearly was... but, for sake of the argument. He moves his chair closer to mine as if to get his own back on me shuffling mine away this morning. I commend him for trying. 

"Bye," I mumble, looking down at my fingers as I intertwine them with one another in a bid to look anywhere but in his direction. I felt awkward and unlike myself. Usually, I keep to myself and nobody interacts with me, now I have to deal with a boy willingly talking to me. I'm underprepared for these situations, they don't teach you how to communicate with someone after you've been locked in your room with a case of the blues for so long. 

He chuckles to himself as if me not wanting to start up a conversation with him is amusing somehow. What is so funny? Is it my face? Do I have food in my teeth, or does my breath stink? Are one of my spots bleeding? Or perhaps my nose is? Has he noticed the red of my cheeks? I know I'm blushing, I always blush in the most untimely situations. Of course, it would mean now is the perfect time for my cheeks to flush like beetroots. 

"My name's Ashton, in case you've forgotten," he smiles again as I look at him through my peripheral vision. Must not make eye contact. There'll be no false hope for him here, just plain and simple blunt responses. I didn't want to make it obvious I was staring, therefore I quickly look in the opposite direction and carry on twiddling my thumbs as if it was something far more interesting. 

"I don't care," I simply answer him. "And I didn't ask." I smile a little, unable to control that I'm proud of myself for holding my own and not giving in to the boy with the pretty smile and equally pretty eyes. I didn't want to talk to the boy and I highly doubted he wanted to talk to me.  Simple. It was better left at that unless he had more to say for himself, which he couldn't possibly. 

"Yes, you do." He adds, the cockiness prevalent in the tone of his voice, trying desperately to start a conversation out of absolutely nothing. Wasn't it obvious I want nothing more than to be left alone so that I can get my work done and out of the way? Unless he was planning to do my work for me, I want nothing to do with him. 

I look at him and calmy mutter, "I do not like you," before turning my head away from him so that he doesn't utter another word. When I steal a sly glance, he looks hurt. I don't care. Oops!

Although something deep down tells me I was going to start caring very, very soon. How soon? I'm unbreakable, I won't give in. And I highly doubt he'll continue to try. A twang of sadness overcomes me when I think about how I could easily make a friend and that maybe Ashton wouldn't be so bad to hang out with after all. 

If only I could stop ruining everything for once.

because of you » a.i. [EDITING]Where stories live. Discover now