● Brandon ●

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I walked through the hallway with my hoodie over my head.

Music blasted in my ears as I walked past staring people.

They were whispering.

More or less about me, of course.

But I didn't care.

After what happened between Zayn and I three months ago, I stopped caring.

Rumor has it that he moved to another state because the police were on to him.

But others say he was shipped to a different country because he caught a deadly disease.

Sounds believable.

After that night, I stopped caring. Well, after a few weeks of crying and being a sad sap.

Walking over to my locker, I was about to reach for it when somebody bumped into me.

Looking up, I was met by electric blue eyes.

The guy was tall, brown skin and had curly hair.

He smiled apologetically at me, saying something that I couldn't hear.

Sighing, I pulled the earplugs out of my ears to hear what he had to say.

"I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going." He said, shaking his head.

"It's okay." I said in a monotone voice.

I turned away from him, opening my locker to try and block him out.

But guys being guys,

He didn't get the hint.

"I'm Brandon." He said, outstretching his hand for me to shake.

I looked at it and slowly took it, shaking his hand.

"Blair." I replied, shutting my locker and about to walk away.

"Well will I see you at lunch, Blair?" He asked, leaning against my locker.

I just shrugged carelessly and walked away to my class.

As I sat in class, I didn't look out of the window.

I was too afraid that I'd seen his face again. That would stir emotions that I successfully shut down.

After class was finished, I made my way to the Cafeteria and to my dismay,

Brandon approached me.

"Hey." He said, giving me a smile.

"Hello." I replied blankly.

"What has you so down?" He asked, leaning on the lunch counter.

"Life." I answered honestly.

He nodded and got his tray back before turning to face me.

"Let's eat together?" He asked hopefully and I sighed before agreeing.


I laughed loudly as Brandon stared at me in disgust, gagging purposely.

"It was one time!" I said, trying to control my laughter.

"Who thinks a dead squirrel is a baby?" He asked, obviously horrified at the thought.

"A drunk person!" I replied defensively, my laugh turning into chuckles.

"You had to have done drugs." He said, shaking his head as he bit into his sandwich.

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