Pretty Boy [bxb] | ✔️

Chapter twenty-four: Not giving a crap

As soon as she steps away from the microphone, the sound of chatter begins to fill the hall. I instantly turn to Cami, who is sharing the same expression I'm holding. Absolute disgust. I felt so relieved when moving to America, knowing I wouldn't have to wear a uniform to school. But now I have to again? Oh, hell no. That is not it.

"I'm going to know what it's like to be British," She mumbles, staring at the pictures of the uniform on the screen with wide eyes. I nod, struggling to find the words to describe how horrified I am at this conception.

Although it doesn't seem too much of a big deal and should not stun someone into silence, Cami and I like to dramatise things. And I mean dramatise.

I look up so I can catch Alex's reaction to this, however through my stunned silence, I had not realised that everyone had already started shuffling out of the hall and to our first period. I can feel Lucy nudge me to start moving, so I snap out of my terrorised funk and make my way out of the room.

Cami, Lucy and I part ways as we all have different lessons and I'm left alone, trudging down the hallway in peace on the outside, while my mind is having an inner freak out about how disgusting I'm going to look and feel in a school uniform.

That peace does not last a second longer as I feel someone grip my arm and pull me into the janitor's closet before I can even yell out in protest. I look up, eyes wide in surprise, to see Alex stood only a few centimetres in front of me — there is not a lot of space in this closet — smirking at me.

I open my mouth to ask why he's dragged me in here so unexpectedly, but he cuts me off before even a syllable can leave my lips, "God, I know I'm supposed to ask in situations like this, but I'm dying to kiss you." He says, eyes on my lips as he speaks before his hands are on my cheeks and he's smashed his lips to mine.

It's one of those kisses where you forget to breathe. When we pull apart, I'm panting like a dog. I mean, I could live with surprise kisses like that, if I'm honest.

"Matthew?" He asks, his hands still on my cheeks and his lips just inches away from mine. I can feel his hot breath as he breathes heavily.

"Yeah?"

"What are we?"

I'm about to give him a straight reply, but then I realise that I don't have an answer. I don't know what we are, at all. This question knocks me off guard for a second. It's a very cliché question which can make or break whatever we have between us. "I— I don't know."

"I'm not asking to be exclusive or to be your boyfriend," He assures me, although I already knew he wouldn't be asking for something quite like that just yet. He's too respectful. "I just— are we dating or, like, people who make out or nothing?"

A smile flickers across my lips, "How about both?"

"Dating and making out, I can live with that." He laughs.

He then coughs and takes his hands away from my face, looking down to our feet then back up again. I'm dazed at the fact that his expression has wholly changed to one of.. shame? A light shade of pink paints his cheeks. He's blushing.

"What's up?"

He takes my hand in his, "I don't want you to feel pressured into doing anything with me, and if I go too far with anything, please tell me. I know what people say about me, how I sleep around and that I'm a very sexual person which, I will say, I am."