Page 23 of I Would Stay Forever
I tried to head straight for the door, but I only got five steps across before he lazily asked, “What's your hurry, Novak?”
"Class," I said. "You know, the reason we’re at school?”
Dean glanced pointedly at the clock above the reception desk. It was only then that I realized the receptionist was gone, leaving Dean and me alone in here.
“Only ten minutes left in the period,” he said. “What's the point of even showing up?”
I glanced at the clock as well, as if I thought that he would have had the time wrong, but he was right. There was no point.By the time I got down there and had my books out, it would be time to pack up again. But that didn't mean that I wanted to hang out here with him.
"Well, I guess I should stop at my locker then. Get my stuff for my next class."
“You don’t already have it in your bag?”
I internally sighed because I really just did not have a good excuse for where I needed to be when I should have been in class. Because, of course, I packed my stuff for both classes. That was what you did if you weren’t one of the lucky few with a locker perfectly positioned between your classrooms.
"Well, I..."
"Sit down.” He patted the seat next to him. I looked at it distastefully, already knowing that I would not be joining him. Instead of chairs, it was more like a couch that was attached to the wall. It meant that I couldn’t really control the distance between us if I was sitting, because even if I perched on the very end, I was sure he would end up sliding closer just to annoy me.
"I'm okay standing.”
A small grin pulled at the corner of Dean's lips. "You know, if I didn't know any better, I would think you didn't like me."
“Oh yeah? What was your first clue?”
He snorted. "Okay, don't pull any punches there."
“I don’t see the reason to lie to you, especially if you already know the truth.”
“Maybe not to me, but I do think you’re lying to yourself.”
This should be good. “Because?”
"Because it's very obvious that youdolike me—but you don’t want to let yourself, you know?”
"No," I said flatly. "I don't."
I reached a hand out to push the door open, but before I could make contact with it, a teacher opened it from the other side. I waited for her to step in so I could leave, but she just stoodin the doorway, facing down the hall and yelling at someone for running inside. She didn’t even seem to notice me standing there, which meant my exit was blocked unless I wanted to awkwardly tap her on the shoulder and ask her to move.
I sighed and glanced at the seat next to Dean. I guessed it wouldn't be so bad to sit there just for a minute. That way I wouldn't be awkwardly standing in the way of this teacher whenever she walked in. But I looked at Dean, sitting with that way too smug look on his face, and wondered if I was better off just having an awkward run-in with the teacher where we both did the sidestep thing trying to get around each other. It might actually be better than sitting with him.
"What are you even doing here?" I asked. And though I didn't sit down with him, I did inch forward a little bit so that I wasn't standing right behind the door.
He held up a small pink slip of paper between his fingers. “I got called down.”
“Well, obviously. But you’re just going to go to whatever school gives you a football scholarship, right? What do they need to talk to you about?"
“Maybe I won’t,” he said. I raised an eyebrow, disbelieving. “What? Maybe I want to go to a school based on their academics instead of just the sport. I won’t be playing football for the rest of my life, you know. I’d like to have a good degree.”
That caught my attention. I always associated Dean with football, like I was sure everyone at the school did, so it didn’t even occur to me that he wouldn’t take a scholarship. Now that he mentioned it, I’d never thought about his life post-football either, just like I’d never thought about what Sebastian would do when he couldn’t play soccer anymore. In my mind, the two of them were so intertwined with their sports that they would never be able to step away.
I glanced out the door again, where the teacher was now talking to another teacher who had walked up in front of her, and decided I might as well just sit down. I threw my bag on the floor and sat down on the very furthest end of the black padded bench, just daring him to come near me. He didn't, and I wasn't sure why I felt a little twinge of disappointment at that.
"Fine. Tell me, where do you want to go?”
"I thought you had to get back to class," he said mockingly.
"Well, my exit is currently blocked, and I guess you are mildly more interesting than Mr. Thompson. So, talk."
