Page 11 of Killer Confections
Now, I miss a boy I don’t even know, worrying about his home life and if he’s okay…
The bell rings, jolting me in my seat. Mr. Brum announces a quiz for tomorrow, much to everyone’s dismay, and we all shuffle from the room.
I’m a social butterfly by nature, but even I can’t combat the awkwardness of trying to find my place in a new school. I’ve tried to incorporate myself into different circles, and everyone has been nice enough, but nothing has stuck yet. I feel like my social battery is overflowing, pushing for a chance to talk and build friendships, but I can’t find what I’m looking for.
Students move quickly through the halls, the sounds of lockers slamming and backpacks rustling touch my ears as I race quickly to the gymnasium on the other side of campus.
Gym isn’t my favorite, but it’s a credit I need, so I tolerate it. There’s only so many times you can run laps around the track or play some generic sport before it grows tiresome.
The gym is relatively empty when I get there. Coach Andy wheels a basket of dodgeballs to the center of the court and I groan.
Of course today’s sport is dodgeball.
I duck off into the girl’s locker room, changing out of my clothes and putting on my black gym shorts and the god awful orange shirt with the school’s mascot stamped over the chest.
I love bright colors, but the rust orange clashes with my hair horribly.
It’s just gym. I’m not trying to impress anyone.
I store my clothes and backpack in a locker before walking out to the court. Most of the class is gathered now, everyone mingling as they break away and go to the locker rooms. I always try to finish dressing first so I don’t get lost in the crowd.
“Always on time,” Coach Andy smiles as he tosses me a ball. “Get your head in the game, Bennett.”
I give a faux saccharine smile, hating that the coach uses last names. He never refers to anyone by their first name unless they’re in trouble. It’s annoying, but I grin and bear it.
I roll the ball in my hands, peering around the massive gym and studying the banners of football and basketball players. I’m not really interested in sports, but it’s giving me something to do while I wait for this class to start.
As my eyes skim, I look over at the boy’s locker room by chance and stop rolling the ball in my hands.
Atlas emerges from the doorway, towering over my other classmates in his matching black shorts and burnt orange shirt.
He’s here.
In my class.
Wait, he didn’t have this class before… did he?
His gaze scans the court, looking for someone inparticular. When piercing blue eyes find me, he wastes no time taking long strides right towards me.
He looks exhausted, dark bags under his eyes and his skin flushed, but that doesn’t seem to deter him.
“Hey,” I say, giving a little wave.
Oh, my god. I’m a fucking loser.
“Hey,” he responds, taking the ball from my hands.
I blink down at my empty palms. “Did you just come over here to steal my ball?”
A devilish smirk tugs at his lips and the breath leaves me. I thought he was beautiful before, but now he’s dangerous. “Maybe,” he says, tossing the ball from one large hand to the other.
“Well, that’s not very nice,” I say, trying to keep my tone playful, but it still sounds as breathless as I feel. “I haven’t seen you in this class before.”
He shrugs, “I had to switch electives.”
My eyes narrow. That’s oddly suspicious considering all electives had plenty of space two weeks ago when school first started.
He spins the ball on his finger and I get a look at the treated cuts on his knuckles. They’re still open, but they look much better than they did three days ago. His lips aren’t swollen anymore, but his face is still bruised from his fight.
