Amanda

I sat down on my seat and put on my headphones. This time, I had Bluetooth controlled ones. I pressed the 'Play' button on my phone and hid the headphones with my hair. I assured my jacket around my shoulders and grabbed a pencil. As I opened my book, I felt someone crash into the seat next to me. I just sketched one of my printed photos and ignored him.

Mr. Smith arrived and called the role. I lifted my hand when I "heard" my surname. I continued to sketch silently as the music played in my ears. When I was finishing my drawing, I knew he was talking to me. I finished quickly and placed back in the notebook labeled "Sketches" which I took everywhere with me. As I closed the binder, someone tapped my shoulder. I ignored it. He did it again, and I ignored him. It was a loop of doing the same thing for a minute or so.

That was until he grabbed my hair and lifted it, revealing my small headphones, that were still blasting music. He pulled the strand of hair in his hand slightly but hard.

"Ow!" I yelled. He took his hand away from my hair and pressed his lips together. I looked at him in disbelief until I heard a voice call my name.

"Is there a problem, Ms. Taylors?" Mr. Smith asked. Shit.

"No." He lifted an eyebrow and continued with the lesson as I stared daggers at Noah. He shrugged. Luckily, Mr. Smith didn't see my headphones.

As I started to copy the words on the whiteboard, Noah just sat there. I ignored him and centered my attention back to the music and copying. When I was straightening up in my chair again, Noah's hand flew out of nowhere and grabbed my hair again. He quickly placed it behind my ear and pulling at it once more. I got so irritated, I yelled again.

"Stop it!"

"Taylors!" Mr. Smith shouted, "Are you listening to music in my class?" I just kept silent.

"That's detention," he concluded, walking over to his computer and typing, "Take them out now and give them to me with your phone." I sighed and turned off the music, so much for going home early. I handed Mr. Smith my things. I had forgotten about Hailey's warning of him being super strict. I glanced sideways at Noah to see his shoulders shaking back and forth as he laughed silently. I shot him an 'I'm-gonna-kill-you-when-I-get-the-chance" look and focused back on my notebook.
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"You have what?" Hailey asked.

"Detention, I have detention," I repeated for the millionth time, "Mr. Smith caught me listening to music."

"Welp," she said, "Good luck with that, bye!" She started walking out the door leaving me standing in front of my locker.

"Thanks a lot," I muttered.

"You're welcome," a voice behind me said. I groaned, closed my locker, turned around and looked up at his blue eyes.

"Hey," Noah said.

"More like bye," I replied, and started walking down the hall towards detention. He followed my steps.

"Wait, you have detention?" he asked dumbly, "The Amanda Taylors has detention?" I ignored his sarcasm and opened the door to the classroom. Mrs. Ross, a science teacher in her thirties, was sitting down with her legs crossed on top of the front desk with a magazine in her hands.

"You kids grab a desk and do your homework or whatever," she said, "As long as you let me read, I'm okay with whatever you do." I nodded slowly and sat down on a random desk near the window. There were other students sitting down that I didn't recognize. Good.

"And please, no kissing allowed," she added, "They pay me to teach and look over detention, not to watch stupid teenagers get their hands on each other." I just pressed my lips together and took out my headphones. I was going to ignore the world until detention was over.

After some mintues of staring out the window, I finally noticed Noah sitting a few desks away from me. I turned off the music and looked at Mrs. Ross who was snoring loudly.

"You have detention too?" I asked Noah. I had assumed the kid that entered with me was someone else, I thought Noah had gone down the hall towards the exit.

"Look who finally decided to speak to me," he muttered before replying to me, "Yeah."

"Why?"

"I used my phone in class."

"Really?" I raised an eyebrow, what a lame excuse.

"Yeah."

"Oh, and what was all that in History about?" I asked again.

"About me grabbing your hair?" he asked back.

"Yeah."

"What do you think?" My brain clicked and I instantly looked at him furiously.

"You did it on purpose for me to have detention?" I asked. He shrugged.

"Yeah," Noah said, "I did it on purpose so we could talk about things."

"Wha-?" I started, "Ugh, you're unbelievable."

"I know," he said.

"I hate you," I replied, crossing my arms across my chest.

"I know," he repeated. I groaned as he shifted desks and sat down in the one next to mine.

"What do you want to talk about?"

"About what Riley told you about me," Noah said.

"Why?"

"Because she hates me and is telling you things that are not true."

"So, you're saying that you're not a player?" I asked.

"Not really..."

"Exactly," I said, "Just leave me alone." I grabbed a nearby chair and placed my feet on top of it. I pressed "Play" and listened to the music in silence. The other kids were with their phones or catching up with homework.

The next thing I knew, Noah had ripped off my headphones and stopped the music.

"What the hell?" I said, standing up, "Give them back."

"No." He extended his hand with him over his head, making it impossible for me to reach them.

"Why not?" I asked, trying to reach them, "Just give them back!" He was a head taller than me, meaning I couldn't even touch the headphones even if he had them on.

"Because I said I want to talk," he stated, "And that's what we're going to do." He arched an eyebrow and looked down at me.

"Ugh, fine," I gave in, "But you have to give them back to me as soon as we finish talking." I sat down on top of the desk.

"Now talk," I commanded, "I want to get this over with." Noah sat back down.

"Whatever Riley told you, is not true," he repeated.

"Then tell me why should I believe you and not her?" I asked, "I met you a week ago, and I have known Riley for more or less five years."

"You have a point," he replied, "But I never cheated on her, we weren't even a couple."

"I know that."

"Then why are you mad at me?" he asked. I just looked at him dumbly.

"Just forget it," I said, "Could you give me back my headphones?" I reached for them, but he pulled them even higher.

"We haven't even talked yet."

"Then what am I doing now?" I asked.

"You know what I mean."

"Just give them back," I said firmly. Noah looked at me and I sighed.

"Guess I'm mad at you because you're just a stupid player," I explained, "No offense, but I hate players. I have messed with them in the past and that was a huge mistake, I don't want to get involved with another ever again."

"Okay," he replied, gripping the small earbuds tightly and putting them on top of my desk.

"Thank you." I was getting bored as hell, so I was sure Mrs. Ross wouldn't mind if I left detention two minutes earlier. I pulled my backpack over my shoulder and made a run for it.

Unfortunately, Mrs. Ross decided to wake up the instant I was running out of the classroom.

"Taylors!" I heard her scowl, "Detention isn't over yet!"

"It's only a minute earlier!" I replied as I ran towards the front door of the school. When I made it through them, I saw him standing there in front of his car, the guy I saw before I fell from the beam and twisted my ankle. Shit.

"Get in," he said. I did. He ran a hand through his messy, brown hair as he did the same.

"What were you thinking? Running like that with your twisted ankle!" he asked.

"It was your fault," I replied, "You made me fall."

"How? By looking at you."

"No," I said, as he got out of the parking lot, "You showed up out of nowhere in the middle of my gymnastics competition and you expect me to fight the urge to hug you and be shocked? It has been ten freaking years since the last time I saw you!"

"I came back now," he replied, "I was worried about you, I should have known better that he was going to turn out being an alcoholic."

"It doesn't matter anyway," I shrugged, "I'll turn eighteen in a few months, then I'm getting the hell out of the house."

"You could come with me," he said, "We could go back to California."

"No way!" I scoffed, "I'm only going back if I get into UCLA."

"Then just choose another university away from this place but nearer to me."

"That's not necessary, Tyler," I said, "I can very well take care of myself as you can see."

"No, you can't," he replied, gripping the steering wheel tightly, "Look at your bruises, they're worse than yesterday, you should leave with me now."

"No, you don't get to decide wether I stay or not," I said furiously, "Not ever again, you pushed me away ten years ago, and now you show up and suddenly care about me? Do you think I really buy that? Just stop being so controlling over me, I'm not a kid anymore."

"I do care about you, I always did," he said, as we arrived, "And to me, you still are a kid."

"Yeah, that's because you're my older brother, you dumbass," I stated as I got out of the car.