Storm, Meet Raine

Teddy Bear.

I tune out of his notes, my pencil just scribbling on the paper. She'd probably wear a Sesame Street two piece or something. Would she brush her teeth? I'm not sure, she tends to be in a rush when she's late to class. It's so weird how she resembles a gremlin in the morning, but can transform into a fairy by night. After catching myself staring like a lovesick man, I focus back on my notes, but look at my paper, horrified by the drawing of her in the corner of my notes.

I jolted in my seat, and looked around, embarrassed, though no one would know who the drawing was. It was simply a view of her from the back, her shoulders and above. I drew her messy, morning hair. How some strands just didn't make it into the bun and swayed like little tails. I drew her baby hairs back there, the ones that laid down smoothly on her nape, and that mass on top. Ringlets going every which way at the top of her head.

Fuck, what is chute saying?

The door opens, and my attention snaps to it. She comes in, the hood of a hoodie halfway on her head, that messy bun sticking out like a sore thumb. I almost smirked at the Oscar the grouch pajama pants. What a kid. She tries to B line it to the back of the classroom, but stills when we make eye contact. All I do is raise an eyebrow at her. Was she really going to sit at the back after we established a change of seats?

She pouts.

Then takes a few steps up the stairs, tired eyes still on me. I purse my lips. She looks up at the ceiling in defeat before stepping back down to walk over to my section. She angrily pulls back the seat beside me, tosses her backpack on the ground and plops into the seat. Chute doesn't even look up, though he does sigh as he continues on, disappointed.

"Did she brush this morning?" I snicker.

"Oh flip off," she grumbles, resting her face on her hand, and slumping against the table.

|||

I knock on the door to Ryker's apartment with a bored look on my face. I've been texting him, and he hasn't responded in more than two days, so that's the protocol for me having to beat some sense into him. It takes him forever to open the door, and when he does, his eyes widen, and he slams the door back closed.

Except I stopped it with my foot. I push it back open, ignoring his resistance and close it, lock it, cross my arms over my chest, and wait. He blinks at me, then starts to whistle awkwardly. "So what's up?"

"I don't know, Ryk, you tell me," I lean against the door. He shrugs his shoulders, before disappearing into his kitchen. The sound of the refrigerator opening and closing piqued my interest, but I stayed right where I was. He comes back, holding a tray of muffins. "I made these for you," he smiles.

"Stop being cute," I glare at him, but help myself to a muffin anyway. I take a bite, pausing to look at it because it tasted really good. I eye the blueberries, and search for something like weed flakes. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Nothing," he lies. More silence passes between us. I take my shoes off, and push past him to find the living room, taking a bigger bite out of the muffin once I am sure he isn't trying to drug me.

"I have until four o'clock, asshole. Start talking, or I'm calling Kennedy." Ever since she told me about her progressing relationship with Ryker, it's been fun having leverage over him. The last thing he wants to do is hurt her, so he does what he can to destress, appreciate, and spoil her. If I can't get him to talk to me about his rough periods, I can threaten to call her and he sings like a canary.

"You're not fair," he whines. I sit on the arm of his couch, shrugging my shoulders, but say no more. "I'm fucking stressing, and I don't want to bother you because you're caught up in your own shit, and so is Kennedy, and you know I'm not that close with anyone else, so I've just been chilling here to get over it all."