Page 10 of Lines

How is it that this guy is always around when you don’t need him? Which would be all the damn time. I wonder how much did he hear and see. There is an easy–going smile curling his lips, but I would bet that I saw something pass through his perceptive, and slightly creepy, grey eyes.

I don’t get it. I don’t get him. But, it’s like he can see me and I’m his number one entertainment. I don’t like it one bit.

She looks between us, but she doesn’t say anything, just lowers her head and looks down at whatever she’s been working on before I interrupted her. Max goes around me, aiming for the desk behind her, but I put my hand there before he can do it.

His eyes stay there, staring at my palm firmly pressing the desk, a few seconds more than necessary before he looks at me.

“Sorry man, I’ll take this one today,” I tell him, smirking at him.

“Oh—kay.”

There it is again.

If you don’t pay enough attention, you would probably miss it, but I notice it, the mocking undertone in his voice. One side of his lips twitches in a knowing smirk just for a split second before it returns in his normal charming smile.

I watch him sit next to me. He looks unaffected again. However, there is a special gleam in his eyes, like there is something entertaining about this whole situation. As if he has the front row seat for the premiere of an interesting show.

Deciding he’s not worth my attention, I look over Amelia’s shoulder and find her nose stuck in the book again. Sighing, I sit behind her and for a while, I simply watch the back of her head. She is tense. Her neck and shoulders are stiff, and it’s like she’s afraid to breathe.

I tug at the strand of her long hair that is left falling down her back. When she doesn’t turn around I do it again.

My fingers curl around soft strand, holding onto it tightly before pulling. The need to lift it to my nose and inhale her sweet scent is strong, but I fight it off. No need to act like some crazy pervert and draw more attention to me then I already have, because I can feel Sanders gaze boring into me from the side.

She moves all of her hair over one shoulder, untangling that lost strand from my fingers, and looks at me shyly; her already big eyes now swallowing her whole face.

“Was there some homework?”

She shakes her head no, and turns around, blocking me out of her world.

The bell rings and students start entering the classroom. Drew is last, just in front of Miss Rodriguez, our Spanish teacher. His eyes connect with mine immediately. He frowns, probably wondering what is going on before he goes to our usual place in the back of the classroom.

I know I’m going to hear about all this shit that’s been happening lately. Andrew can pretend to be lazy, I–don’t–have–a–care–in–the–world kind of guy, but he is one smart fucker. Nothing passes by him, and I meannothing. So there is no doubt he’ll see that I’m not as interested in fucking around like I was just mere months ago. And there is no way he’ll miss my new obsession with Amelia Campbell. I have a feeling something has started to change, and nothing will be like before ever again.

Amelia

My heart is still beating like crazy and my fingers are so shaky that I can’t hold the pen in my hand so I decide to forget about my homework and pretend I’m really interested in the book that’s sitting on my table. Although, if you asked me, I wouldn’t be able to tell you where I am, much less what is it about. Fortunately, nobody asks me anything, and for a few moments Max, Derek, and I are sitting in an uncomfortable silence. Then the bell rings and people start entering, along with our Spanish teacher.

Brook, who is normally always early like me, is one of the last ones to enter in a rush. She’s panting slightly, almost as if she has been running to make it to the class on time, and there’s dark blue paint smudge on her cheek, probably left from art class.

Looking around, she meets my eyes. Her head tilts just slightly to the side, making her ponytail swing with the movement, and her eyes narrow as she tries to see into my brain and find the reason behind my wide eyes, blushed cheeks, and trembling fingers clenching onto the pages of the book. I see her eyes go behind me before they return to mine and her lips form a little ‘O’ of surprise.

Not that I can blame her. Derek King simply does not sit in front of the class. And he most definitely does not sit so close to me.

Her usual seat, the one in front of me, is already taken, so her green eyes quickly scan the rest of the classroom, returning to the seat next to mine, the only one left unoccupied and one that’s directly in front of Max. Brook frowns, but puts her bag on the floor next to her seat and lowers her butt into the chair.

I’m about to tell her to wipe her cheek when I see Max put his hand on her shoulder. Brook jumps, startled. She turns so abruptly that her hair hits Max in the face.

“What in the…” she asks in a low, angry voice, but stops when Max’s hand cups her cheek and his thumb rubs slowly against the paint on it. She’s shocked into silence, her mouth hanging open. I’m not surprised. Nobody ever touched her that way, especially not a boy. She is simply not a touchy person, not even with me, and we are best friends.

Max’s grin is so big that it transforms his whole face.

His grey eyes twinkle in amusement. When there is no paint left, he gently taps her nose and leans back in his chair. “There was paint on your face, firecracker. Now close that pretty mouth of yours before something enters it.”

Brook shuts her mouth in an instant and gives him a pointed, furious stare before turning in her seat without uttering a word.

I don’t understand. What is her problem? Max is one of the good guys, always easy–going, nice, and helpful. He is constantly joking around and making people laugh. Maybe he is a bit cocky and a total flirt, but what good-looking guy isn’t? At least he isn’t obnoxious and self–centered likesomeof them.

Max chuckles at Brook’s nape, slowly shaking his head. Then his eyes lift and meet mine through the shield of my hair. He gives me a small wave just as one long leg kicks mine under the table. I blush, embarrassed that I’ve been caught staring, not just by Max but also by Derek. Miss Rodriguez starts talking, so I turn to look at the front of the classroom, but I don’t hear a thing coming out of her mouth in fluent, fast-paced Spanish.

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