"Thank goodness English is last period," exhales Lacy on our way to our lockers. "That means I can proof read my work before I hand it in."
"Who did you find at last minute to do it?" I ask with a light giggle, pinning the combination into my locker and loading up my bag for the day.
"Some girl I found in the library." Lacy replies with a careless shrug. "She was reading To kill a Mocking Bird, so she seemed smart. It was a good job she had read that book we're doing about in English, otherwise I would have been stuck... Paige? Paige?" Lacy waves her hand in front of my face, staring at me puzzled. "Why did you zone out?"
I blink multiple times so my vision shifts away from Nathan and back onto my best friend. "Oh, no reason," I lie, covering it up with the flick of my hand.
Lacy continues her story without any suspicion and I keep sneaking glances over her shoulder to examine Nathan some more. I don't think calling him the 'school nerd' is appropriate. I'm sure there is more beneath the surface than meets the eye about him.
"You ready?" Lacy slams her locker door shut and the immediate bang rings through my ears, making me flinch back to reality.
"Yeah, I'm ready." She sends me a look of confusion then shakes it off. We walk down the corridor on our way to home room. Before we turn the corner, I locate my gaze back onto Nathan for a split second; he is gone.
It is now fifth period and our teacher has got the entire class on the brink of sleep. She closes Macbeth and drops the white board rubber on her desk.
"Everyone get out your reports!" Mrs Simpson barks, our ruthless English teacher that has the tone of voice of a middle aged man. The whole class zips open their bags and present their homework on the desk without hesitation.
Mrs Simpson is the teacher you most definitely don't want to annoy. That was why Lacy was so stressed about handing in a good quality of work on time. Not that she wrote it herself.
"Good!" She bellows from the back of her throat once her eyes have scanned the room with no desk empty. I can taste the tension in the room, bitter and sour, just like her cheap perfume.
I hate sitting right at the front.
The bell for the end of the day finally rings.
"Everyone put your report on my desk on the way out!" She orders over the noise of everyone pulling out their chairs. The end of a school day is always hectic: people either rushing to get the bus, wanting to get home or people going to after school clubs.
However today I am in no rush, thanks to the zip on my backpack refusing to work. I struggle with my face scrunched in frustration as I tug on the little plastic zip, cursing under my breathe as it won't budge. Lacy can't help me as she is already out of the class room, presumably on her way to catch the front seat on the bus.
Thank God I don't take the bus; I would have missed it by now.
Eventually I am able to close my bag and I sign in relief of doing so. My fingers are red and almost numb, but at least it is fastened. I stand to my feet and my back suddenly collides with another.
"I'm so sorry!" I exclaim, shooting around to become face to face with none other than Nathan. I lower my hands from my mouth and I show him an apologetic smile.
"It's ok," he murmurs, his eyes anywhere but mine as he stares fixedly at the ground. Enlarged with embarrassment, his eyes widen with the tremor of his lip. A pink blush rushes up his neck to his cheeks. "I-I'm sorry," he squeaks then squeezes past me and out of the classroom.
I watch the door for a little moment, wondering what would have happened if I had stopped him from running out, if I had actually spoken to him.
Maybe just a friendly smile would give him the encouragement needed for him to smile back?
But he is long gone.
I turn around to pick up my bag. Once I crouch down to pick it up, something catches my eye from the floor beside me. It is a phone. I hold it up in my hands and press the centre button, curious of who it belongs to.
The picture that flashes up on the lock screen is of a family. There is a mom, dad and sister. And there, in the centre, stands Nathan. He has a wide smile on his face, an expression he hardly ever shows whilst at school.
It is his phone.
He is completely out of sight, so I know it would be pointless in running after him. So after moments of contemplating what to do, I decide to pocket the phone and return it to him the following day. Otherwise, Mrs Simpson would probably take it and cage it up in one of her desk drawers and not give it him back. She is incredibly strict about phones in her classroom and I don't want to risk it.
I exit the classroom and leave my report on the desk as I pass. The corridors are almost bare by now, the odd student crossing my path but hardly anybody is around. I dump my unneeded books in my locker then slam it shut. Walking to the exit through the large double doors, I step down onto the student parking lot.
My eyes scan the scene attentively, on the search for Josh's BMW that should be waiting here for me. Josh has football practice today and until my car is fixed, he is my ride. So the consequence of it means I have to wait in his car until practice is over. Which, may I add, isn't that unsatisfactory considering I am in view with the field from where his car is usually parked.
I locate his car and walk over to it, unlocking the doors with the keys he gave me and I sit inside. To make good use of the time I decide to start on my Geography homework. It isn't as if there is much more to do and we only have one day to do it.
Time passes slowly and I finally complete the essay. I sigh and lean back in my seat, letting out a tired breathe of air.
"Hey babe. Sorry for the wait." A sweaty looking Josh suddenly appears by the driver's door, his hair sticking up all over the place as his T-shirt sticks to his abs. I am not complaining with the drop of my eyes.
"The showers not working again?" I comment with a giggle as he puts his belt on and wipes some sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. He turns to me with a tired look in his eyes.
"Yeah, tough practice today. Coach wouldn't let us leave until we got it perfect, then the showers broke so I'm all sweaty." He sighs and picks up my hand, using his thumb to rub circles around my palm. "You good?"
Gold swirls spiral through the depth of his eyes, an enchantment making my stomach flutter and my eyes dilate.
"Yeah," I glance down at my homework on my lap, trying to focus my attention on something other than his gorgeous face and body. "Just did that Geography essay Mr Moss is forcing us to do in one night. You better start it when you get home, it's tough." I warn him with an exhausted smile.
Josh throws back his head with a groan, his free hand glued to his face. "I'm too tired, I'll never do it all tonight." His head rotates to look at me, our eyes connecting as he puffs out his lower lip. "Could you-"
"No!" I shout. I already know what he is about to ask, not another word needed. "No way. I'm tired too," I whine, not giving in. He may be persuasive at times, but I'm not doing it all again. He could look like Zac Efron right now but it wouldn't make the slightest of difference.
"Please babe, I've had a hard day."
"Ask Nathan to do it," I scoff, rolling my eyes. "You said he would do any homework for you."
"Yeah, but I asked him to do my physics," he says, holding my hand tighter. "You're my only hope."
"Stop being so dramatic!" I swat his hard muscular arm with a playful scowl, watching a grin spread across his kissable lips. Then I have an idea. "Ok, I have a plan."
"Talk to me." He leans in closer.
"I will do your homework, but..." I walk my fingers up his toned chest, my eyes staring into his with a suggestive smirk. He immediately understands what I am hinting at and his breath tickles my skin. His lips press up against my neck, sending the uncontrollable flutter of butterflies free in my stomach once again.
"But what?" He mumbles across my skin. A giggle escapes my lips as I hold onto his cheeks to rise his head back up to face me.
"But you have to come round to my house later."
"Deal!"
"And do my math homework."
"What?" He leans back with enlarged eyes. I don't know if it's shock or horror, but he looks scared stiff. I giggle and use my hand to stroke through his hair. He wasn't expecting that proposition.
"And when we're done," I continue, my lips creeping into a successful smile. "We can do whatever you want."
"Fine," he gives in and captures my lips in his, kissing me slowly and teasing me with his tongue. We soon pull away with the vibration of my phone.
"You go home and shower." I tell him as I read my message from my mom, who is wondering where I am. "Then come over around seven and we can start."
He reverses out of the parking lot and drives in the direction of my house. At the red lights he removes his hand from the wheel and holds mine.
"I can't wait for tonight," he whispers into my ear, his lips teasing against my skin making me giggle.
"Why, does math turn you on?" I joke.
"No, but you do."