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THIS IS IN THE WATTY'S! PLEASE VOTE & COMMENT -->
“Why is Aaron following you around everywhere?” Micky asks sceptically, narrowing his eyes at the approaching figure.
“For the hundredth time, Micky,” I whisper, sighing loudly as I squeeze between two a locker and a group of people. “He’s walking me to my classes,” I repeat, feeling my patience sliding gradually away.
I haven’t had the confidence to tell him about my run-in with the group of guys a few days before, nor do I think I ever will. Instead, I have resorted to feeding him the half-truth that Aaron has decided to walk me to my classes – true – because of he enjoys stalking and annoying me – false.
“Why can’t I walk you to class?” he asks glumly.
“You are walking me to class,” I point out, shrugging my satchel higher up my shoulder and running a hand through my hair to make sure I look presentable before Aaron gets closer.
“Oh yeah,” he replies dumbly. “Well, I’m having you all to myself tonight for our movie marathon.” Bumping hips with me to lighten the mood, I can’t help but return the cute grin he’s giving me. However much we annoy each other, we’re still going to be best friends. “See you later.” He grins, before disappearing into a nearby classroom.
“Hey Emi,” a low voice says, before a pair of warm arms wrap around me tightly.
“Hey Sex God,” I reply, my voice muffled in his blazer as I squeeze him back. “What’s up?” I ask sociably, pulling away and looking up at him.
He smirks, draping an arm over my shoulders and guiding me down the corridor. The usual jealous stares from the girls and curious glances from the boys commence as we walk past. Doing my best to ignore the looks, I focus my gaze on his lips as they move.
“Nothing much. Just making sure you’re not gang raped again,” he teases, shooting a sly wink in my direction as we round a corner.
I huff loudly, shrugging away his arm and scooting across the corridor away from him. “I wasn’t gang raped,” I state, scowling at his statement. I don’t have to be scared of being overhead here, due to the fact that Aaron and I are the only ones in this abandoned corridor.
“You might have been if I didn’t show up,” he insists, side-stepping so that we’re walking alongside again. As much as I hate to admit it, Aaron is correct as usual. I watch him from the corner of my eye, keeping up a grumpy façade.
“Whatever,” I mumble, avoiding eye contact. When I do look back, I’m surprised to see the mischievous smile on his face.
“You’re cute when you pout.” Moving closer, he uses his thumb and fingers to pinch my cheeks, wobbling them like an old grandma greeting her grandchildren. I feel the heat rising to my cheeks as I stop in my tracks, my back hitting the block of lockers.
“Aaron-” I protest, attempting to slap his hands away from my face.
“Awh! You’re even cuter when you blush!” he interrupts, making baby noises as he continues to pinch my cheeks.
“Stop it!” I whine, this time pushing his chest in a feeble attempt to stop his nonsense. “You’re so childish,” I complain when his rock-hard chest doesn’t budge a centimetre.
“You love me really.” Finally, he releases my cheeks, smirking at my disgruntled expression.
I fix him with a glare, which doesn’t last long when he doesn’t bother taking a step backwards. Embarrassed at my position between him and the lockers, I try escaping to the side, planning to take him by surprise and leg it down the corridor before he can say another word. However, it seems my plan is flawed as both of his hands shoot out, caging me in between his arms.
My arms stuck to my sides, and my eyes having nowhere to look apart from into his, I find myself in a vulnerable position.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he smirks, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me closer.
My heartbeat pounds inside my ears as I feel the warmth radiating out of his body. Swallowing down the nerves rising into my chest, I place my otherwise useless hands on his waist lightly, peering up under my eyelashes. “Nowhere apparently,” I say quietly, smiling as his eyes glaze over, and he leans down, puckering his lips slightly.
Smirking silently, I wait until his lips are but millimetres away from mine before sharply turning my head to the left. His lips, instead of meeting the target they want, collide with my cheek, and I instantly feel them turn down in a scowl against my skin.
“Emily,” he groans, removing his lips from my cheek and trying to reach my mouth.
Turning my head even further away, I resist laughing in his face. “We’re going to be late for class,” I point out nonchalantly, pushing against his arm which falls disappointedly. Without a glance backwards, I walk away down the corridor, making sure to add an extra sway to my hips.
The remainder of the school day passes uneventfully. I keep my head down in class, ignoring the glares burning holes in my back. I have no doubt that the majority are aimed at me by jealous girls, although every now and then I catch a guy sending angry stares in my direction. The reason of which escapes me.
When the final bell rings, I leap gladly out of my seat, exiting the math class as quickly as possible. I make a beeline for the corridor in which my locker waits, not surprised at the empty state I find it in. Only several other people have lockers in this corridor, which only leads to one unimportant AP class at the end of the corridor. Therefore, I am used to seeing it deserted. In fact, the emptiness somehow soothes me after dealing with the mounds of people the whole day.
Pouring the few text books from my locker into my satchel, I jump, startled, as a hand taps me lightly on the shoulder.
“Shi-” I yelp instinctively, a hand flying to my chest, as I whirl around. “Oh…” I stop mid-curse, trailing off at the sight of Brad in his football clothing.
“Hello,” he says breathlessly, running a hand through his already tousled dark hair.
I let my eyes wander over his baggy shorts and football shirt, tight to his chest. “Hello?” I reply, my confusion at his unexpected appearance in my abandoned corridor.
“Uh…” his voice dwindles away. His eyes dart around, almost as though he is embarrassed to be here.
I take the courtesy to close my locker while he works out what to say. When he still doesn’t say anything, I raise my eyebrows. “Do you want something?”
“I, um,” he stumbles over his words. “How are you?” he asks weakly, rubbing the back of his neck in an awkward manner.
“I’m fine,” I answer, staring at him both with surprise and curiosity. Never have I ever heard Brad look this uneasy, not to mention the clear stutter in his voice.
“Good,” he says, clearing his throat loudly. His grey eyes flicker away from my face, settling on a spot on the wall behind me, before darting back again. “So, uh… Aaron, eh?” he finally manages to get out, looking strained.
“Aaron?” I enquire, waiting for him to elaborate. What about Aaron?
“Are you two together?” he asks, his sudden bluntness unsettling.
At last I realize the cause for his seemingly apprehensive state. No wonder I haven’t seen him the whole week. He’s undoubtedly noticed me glued to Aaron around school, obviously sparking the suspicions that the two of us are a couple. That would explain the pointed stares I have been receiving since Tuesday, the beginning of Aaron’s walking-to-class escapade.
A short bark of laughter resounds through the corridor, so deep and throaty, that I’m shocked for a second that such a sound could come from between my lips. “Me and Aaron?” I ask between my chuckles, pointing to myself disbelievingly. “We’re not together,” not yet anyway, I assure him, letting a grin take over my face now that I know the reason behind the looks I have been receiving. If that’s the cause of my sudden rise in the people-to-stare-at chart, I can’t imagine what will happen when -or if – Aaron and I reach that stage of the game.
“Oh,” he replies unintelligently, before the smirk I have grown accustomed to replaces his tense expression. “Friends with benefits, then, are we?” he asks, winking suggestively.
The grin on my face immediately slides away at the return of the perverted Brad everyone knows all too well. To be honest, I think I prefer the cutely anxious version, even if it’s extremely out of character for him. “No,” I state grumpily, knocking shoulders with him on my way out of the corridor.
Unfortunately for me, Brad decides to follow, teasing me in a singsong voice. “I don’t blame him, what with your kissing skills.” My mouth drops open as he wraps a strong arm around my waist, pulling me close towards him.
I let my lips opens and close as I try to form intelligible words, failing as my mind comes up blank. Instead I squirm underneath his grasp, managing to utter out a weak comeback. “Jerk.”
“You know it,” he brags, releasing me suddenly. I stumble at the sudden loss of contact, glaring at the smirk on his face. “See you, Emi,” he deliberately emphasises Aaron’s nickname for me, before leaning down and pecking me lightly on the nose. I curse myself as my cheeks flush, and he leans back, smiling crookedly. “You look like a raspberry when you blush,” he kindly points out before striding the opposite direction down the corridor.
“Jerk,” I hiss underneath my breath.
“What’s up with you?” Micky asks as soon as I reach his car, clambering in.
“Boys,” I reply moodily, strapping myself in as Micky puts his foot on the pedal. “People… life. What else?”
Glancing at me furtively, a small smile forms on his face. “Regretting agreeing to your little Play Game?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.
“Player Game,” I correct him instantly, frowning in thought. “I don’t know,” I reply honestly, running a hand through my hair- a habit of mine in stressful situations. “I just think boys are weird,” I sum my thoughts up in a simple sentence, watching the houses moving by slowly as we pull over outside Micky’s house.
As the car rolls to a stop, I open the car door, leaping out and joining Micky on the path to his house. “I think girls are weird,” he declares, shrugging his shoulders as he pushes the front door open. “We’re home!” he calls out as soon as we step into the premises, closing the door behind us.
I kick my shoes off, padding into the kitchen where the inviting smell of baking bread meets my nostrils.
“Hello Emily,” a cheerful voice calls. A plump ginger lady, holding a large flour-stained apron in one hand and a rolling pin in the other, appears around the corner, enveloping me in a tight hug.
“Hey Angie,” I reply, hugging Micky’s mother back. At the same time, I make sure to dodge the messy cooking equipment in her hands, not wanting to add any flour flavoured stains to my clean school blazer.
“Now, I must ask you, before you raid my kitchen,” she says, pointing her rolling pin threateningly in the direction of the doorway, where Micky has appeared. “Are you expecting me to cook you dinner tonight or are you ordering pizza?”
“We’ll order pizza,” he answers nonchalantly without a second thought. “Come on, Em.” He grins, approaching me and grabbing my hand.
“I’m hungry,” I mumble, groping for the cookie jar stood only an arm’s length away on the kitchen table. Before I can reach it, however, a hand reaches out and grabs it. Micky holds it tauntingly over his head, dropping my hand from his, as I glare at him. “Give me that!” I shout, leaping at the jar in his hands.
“See if you can catch me!” he yells, grinning giddily, before he darts quickly out of the room.
Charging after him, I find a sloppy grin taking over my face. I can always rely on Micky to make my day that much better.
So, I didn't get this up as quickly as I wanted- sorry for that! Writer's can't write all the time. Also, I'm sorry if it's shorter than usual, but I wanted to get something up for you awesome people!
There's more of Micky in this chapter! :3 Isn't he AW-dorable? I felt like a Micky-Emily scene was needed. As much as I love my Arrogant Aaron and Boisterous Brad. Yesh- I have nicknames for my characters. Just go with it! ;3
Per-lease- pretty please with a cherry on top- vote and comment! 19 comments and 29 votes, and I'll upload nice 'n early, with an extra lengthy chapter. How's that sound? :3 Delicious? Scrummy? I should think so.