As soon as the bell rang, my desk was surrounded by new faces who stared at me as if I was some kind of newly discovered animal on the discovery channel.
"What's your name?" asked one of them.
"Desmond." I smiled, hoping that I didn't sound as awkward as I felt.
"Which high school are you from?" said the one on the left.
"Junjay High," I answered, intimidated by the overwhelming amount of people around me.
They all gasped, sharing glances and exchanging whispers.
"Is it true that you were expelled?"
Was that why they were staring at me like that?
"No, I wasn't expelled." Which, in my defense, wasn't a complete lie. Technically, I was suspended.
"Why did you transfer here?"
Before I could answer, someone else asked:
"Do you play any sports? How about joining our basketball team?"
"You should try out for the volleyball team. It'll look great on your university application!" Exclaimed another.
"I-" I was interrupted again.
"There's also a literature club if you're interested!"
They continued to drown me with questions, interrupting me with more of them, inviting me to join clubs and whatnots.
"Back off hoes," ordered a disembodied voice.
The chattering died down when a tiny figure shouldered his way through the crowd, stopping in front of my table. He had bright blond hair and a toothy smile that called upon two dimples on his cheeks. His emerald eyes sparkled with vivacity. Despite his small frame, he wore an oversized sweater that drooped down his shoulder, which revealed his silky pale skin and prominent collarbone.
"Next class is P.E." He winked. "Follow me."
I got the message he was saving me. I didn't waste a second to gather my things, apologizing to the others before following my savior out the door. When we were out of earshot, I sighed in relief.
"Thanks," I murmured gratefully. He turned towards me and flashed a bright, sunny smile, carrying a warm aura around him.
"No worries," he beamed. He gave out his hand, his sleeves going past the tips of his fingers. "I'm Charlie, by the way, Charlie Wimbrow!"
"Desmond." I nodded with a smile, taking his hand and shaking it.
"Everyone seems to have taken quite the liking to you," he mused.
"It's probably because I'm the new kid, it'll die down sooner or later." I shrugged, but Charlie laughed, shaking his head as if I just made a noob mistake.
"Oh, Desy," he chuckled. Desy? "You're in an all-boys high school. You may be new here, but some of us have been cooped up in this place for years."
I furrowed my brows in confusion. "I uh, I still don't see the problem."
"Well, when you're constantly in a male-only environment, you start to change your preferences, or at least discover your real center of interest, if you know what I mean," he said, wriggling his brows as if it was going to help me understand what he was trying to say.
"Um, no, not really."
"A lot of our classmates thought it was brave of you to talk back to Mr. Power. No one's ever done that before. To be honest, it kind of turned me on too."
I almost choked. "What?"
"I said it turned-"
"I'm not gay," I blurted, self-consciously raking a hand through my hair.
"To quote our king Harry Styles, 'we're all a little bit gay.' Oh, but don't worry, I only date tops."
Tops? What ethnicity was that?
I quickly cleared my voice. "I'm uh, I'm honored that people find me cute, but I personally don't swing that way."
"I can already tell that you're going to be popular here. Not only did you talk back to Mr. Power, but you also sat down beside the Class Prince."
"The Class what?" It seemed as if I had lots to learn about this school.
"The Class Prince," he repeated nonchalantly.
"You mean my desk mate? Is that his name?" I scowled, suddenly feeling bad for him. What kind of cruel parents would give their kid such an unusual name?
"It's a nickname that the students gave him," he explained while adjusting his sweater. "He's a prodigy, a genius if you must. He ranks first in our grade, so everyone here treats him like royalty. Even the teachers give him special treatment."
Was that why Mr. Power said nothing when he was sleeping in class?
"Plus, he looks like a total prince. Not the typical blond-haired Prince Charming, but more like the mysterious and dangerous type."
"You mean the villain?" I snorted, which made Charlie giggle. What's his real name? Because there is no way in hell that I'm going to call him," I paused, trying not to cringe as I croaked, "The Class Prince."
Charlie just laughed, looking at me with his bright, green eyes that had a hint of mystery. "His name real name is Ivan. Ivan Moonrich."
"I see," I mumbled flatly.
The scowl on my face made him laugh. "You don't seem to like him very much."
Charlie leaned closer towards me with a raised brow. "Seems like you're not a big fan?"
"No, it's not that," I quickly said, mentally scolding myself for my transparency. "I mean, it's nothing personal or anything. I just try to steer clear from perfect guys like him."
"Ohhh, how mysterious," he murmured in amusement. He then smiled. "Then again, what's a love story without some angst?"
"Love story?" I choked. "I told you, I'm not-"
"But maybe it's a good thing that you don't want to get involved with him."
"Why?"
Charlie looked straight ahead of him.
"You said that he could be a villain, right? Well, every villain has suffered, and Ivan is no exception."