Philosophically and romantically

Rivals and partners

The first time I looked over to my left in philosophy class, it was for a fleeting second, and I only caught a glimpse of the new guy. The second time I looked longer, and he was turned my way. The third time, we stared at each other for half of the remaining hour. 

This happened three months ago and has been going on ever since. We've never spoken, never seen each other "for real" other than philosophy class, but the instant we both happen to be in this class, it turns into a staring contest. Is it because we're both the two best students in this class? Or the fact that he's smoking hot and became popular overnight?

Most likely the former. You know why? Because I can't stand popular people. They disgust me. It's cliche, I know, but I can't help it. They use others for their own profit, regardless of the other person's feelings. 

If you hadn't guessed, I was used that way once. I used to date this girl, Valerie, beautiful chick. But the biggest dick you'll ever meet. She made me think she liked me and dated me just to get into this group of popular girls who needed 'the lesbian one' to complete their group and for that, they told Valerie to date a girl who was a nobody. Guess who got picked?

That's my sob story.

Back to philosophy. The guy I'm competing against for Mrs. Walker's Best Student award is Liam Bewer (rhymes with sewer - cue the snorts). He has brown hair, startling green eyes, basically a young Dean Winchester.

I wish I liked Sam better...

And he (Liam) is staring at me, this stupid fucking smirk on his face. He just answered (correctly) a question Mrs. Walker asked, and now she's going on and on about how great he is. I'm sure he thinks he's got the award in the bag, that he'll be crowned Best Student, but I won't let him. 

Until Liam Bewer arrived, that was my spot, and I'm never going to let it go, not without a fight at least.

So, unable to stop myself, I stick my tongue out at him. I see him laugh. His laugh contaminates me, and I grin cheekily. Well, I hope I look cheeky and not weird.

Not that it would change much about my image... You could say I'm the weirdest person you'll meet today.

I wear nothing but fandom t-shirts, jeans coated in paint, clay, sparkles and other arts-and-crafts (courtesy of my little sisters), battered Converse and the occasional jean jacket. I will make the weirdest face possible every time I can get away with it, and most of the things I say probably are about Harry Potter, Doctor Who, Supernatural, Sherlock and so on...

I also spend my time drawing and writing fanfiction, unlike other girls (Valerie, ahem) who spend theirs talking about makeup and staring at their phones. 

I also don't care about what I eat. Seriously, what the hell to all the girls who'd choose a salad over a hot-dog? Ice cream? 

I mean, I'm not going to eat just anything, either, don't get me wrong. Like sodas are not my thing, neither are any kind of spices. I'm a very picky person, but meat will get you my undying affection. That's how Aaron, my best friend, became my best friend. He offered me steak.

It's a long story.

But what makes me weird out of all of the above in the eyes of my co-students is the fact that I could not give less of a flying fuck about what they think of me. 

And they have a problem accepting that. But you know what? Who gives a fuck?

"Alex," says an annoyed voice hovering over my head. I jerk, startled, and stare into Mrs. Walker's face. She does have a fuckload of wrinkles... 

"Sorry, Mrs. Walker?" I mumble. She looks at my notebook, where I doodled Liam. I quickly cover it, earning a smirk and a wink, and Mrs. Walker walks away. 

"I was saying that you are all going to write a paper during the next two weeks, in pair work. I'm going to assign you a partner, whom you do not particularly know, at least not very well. Why you ask?"

Mrs. Walker is quite the theatrical person. 

"Because the paper is about your partner. Who they are, what you can learn from them... I want you to get to know your partner like you would know your best friend. I want you to tell me what you thought of them before you started your paper and what you think of them after. If there is nothing different, I'll assume that you haven't learned to know each other and sadly, you'll get a bad grade."

Chorus of groans. 

"Sorry, kids," says Mrs. Walker (although she clearly isn't sorry, not one bit), "but that's how the game works. Now, partners..."

She goes to her desk, rummages through some papers, retrieves a list and clears her throat, reminding me vaguely of Umbridge's hem hem in Harry Potter and the Order of the Pheonix. 

"Baskwell, Gina and Hourkish, Bruce."

My neighbor, Gina, sends me a fleeting smile and joins a tall, nerdy boy at the far end of the room. 

"Chester, Carl, and Dustries, Mia." 

More and more kids change places, until... 

"Bewer, Liam, and Pecker, Alex."

Oh. My. CHUCK. Did she just...?

Liam gets up and, under my bewildered gaze, sits in the vacant seat left by Gina.

"Hi," he grins. Even his fucking voice is hot. I seriously can't even right now.