Lena Rose Winter

So, are there more chickens than eggs in the world? Or is it vice-versa? I wondered, twirling a new pencil in my hands.

Theoretically, every  chicken laid  in average 300 eggs every year. If multiplied by the number of hens there was in the world, which was 16 billion, that would be a lot of eggs.

Therefore, a lot of chickens.

Mr. Johnson, our fabulous English teacher, had been gibbering and jabbering about Shakespeare's plays, and the ingenious way the playwriter always chose to end them; in tragedy. Unfortunately for me, he was so absorbed in what he was talking about that all the talking going on in the class was chosen to be ignored.

"And then she, like, totally told him to shut up, but he kissed her and now they're back together. Isn't that cute?" blabbered Stacy, not waiting for an answer.

She simply continued on and on and on. At the moment, Stacy felt that it was important to fill me in on every single person in this school's life. I swore, if she had a slightly higher IQ, she'd be perfect for the FBI. Her researches were thorough and precise, even though they were completely futile.

You have no idea how much I want to tell you to shut up and go live on Mars, but I'm polite, I thought, pursing my lips. I closed my eyes and willed myself to ignore her.

"Lele! Lele!" whispered the blonde girl, a tone of urgency in her voice. 

Ignore.

"Shakespeare's plays are now displayed and portrayed by every single theater in the world!" said Mr. Johnson, admiration written across his wrinkly face. I felt a warmth enter my heart at how passionate the old man seemed to portray.

"Lele!"  She poked me repeatedly.

Poke me one more time, I dare you, I mentally threatened, keeping my eyes on the cursive , perfectly written Shakespeare on the white board.

Poke.

"What do you want?" I turned to her, shouting in a hushed voice.

"Mark has been looking at you," she informed me flatly, jealousy beaming from her. Confusion flooded over me. 

Mark.

Who in the world was Mark?

"Uh, I've been here for almost a week. Who's 'Mark'?" I questioned, curious. Stacy's glossed lips formed a small "o". She let out a small gasp. 

"Oh em gee. Mark Walters is only the hottest, most popular guy in school!" exclaimed Stacy loudly, a dreamy look settling on her face.

And when I said 'loudly', I mean loud enough for the whole class to hear her.

Mr. Johnson's lips went into a thin line. He was clearly disturbed that we interrupted him.

"Winter and Hennings, are you done fantasizing about Mr. Walters?" drawled Mr. Johnson, strictness dripping in his words. If looks could kill, Stacy and I would've died the second he looked at us.

Face getting red? Check.

Palms getting sweaty? Check.

Getting embarassed on my first week here? Double-check. 

"Yeah, Lena, you fantasizing about me?" said a deep voice. I could feel the cockiness dripping in his words. Turning towards the source of the voice, I mentally released a gasp. 

Green eyes twinkling in amusement, brown hair, strong jawline. Not a hair out of place. His lips were in a smirk. Holy macaroni.

Pride, your pride Lena, I reminded myself. If you continue checking out every guy in this school, this year will not end well.  

I chose not to answer and simply raised an eyebrow.

"Well that makes two of us," he winked, making me grimace. 

"For your information, I wasn't fantasizing about you. I barely even know you, and frankly, you're not worth fantasasizing about at all." I informed him, gaining satisfaction from the bewildered look on his face. 

'Mark' was about to answer when Mr. Johnson shot him a glare, challenging him to open his mouth. The boy shut his mouth.

"This is an English class, not a high school flirting class. Continue like this, and you'll get a detention."  

I quickly turned around, and put my head down in embarrassment and shame. That shut me up. Almost getting a detention, because of a stranger?

Bad Lena. Stupid Mark.  

Class ended, and I stormed out. I was pretty sure I sounded like a dinosaur, stomping my feet like that.  

Where was my locker! 554,555...

My breath caught in my throat when I saw The Mark Walters leaning against my locker, smiling, or rather smirking, cheekily.  

Oh, I was giving him a piece of my mind.  

"Move, can't you see that this is my locker?"  

"Consider yourself lucky, you have my scent on your locker now. I sprayed some of my body spray on it," winked Mark. 

I sniffed, and indeed, my locker, and the area surrounding my locker smelled like strong Axe. I started coughing uncontrollably.  

"Dude, did you pour the whole bottle in the air?" I exclaimed, gagging.   

"You do realize you don't make any sense."  

"Whether MY words make any sense or not is none of your buisness, Axe-boy!" I snapped. 

"Now, move!" I tried pushing him away, but it was like a mouse trying to move an elephant.  

"How much do you weigh?" I was slightly panting.  

"It's called muscles, babe," he once again winked at me. 

Was this considered pedophilism?

"Don't call me babe!" I said, disgusted. He simply laughed, amused by this little situation. He smirked at me, and simply folded his arms and placed them on the locker; displaying his comfort.

"Go away!" I hit his harm. 

"Not unless..." trailed off Mark. 

Oh this better be good, I thought.

"Not unless what? I'm going to be late for next class, and I've never been late before so move your fat ass," His eyes slightly widened.  

"You've got to be kidding me! You've never been late before? And my ass is sexy." He looked bewildered.  

"No, now tell me what I have to do, I have to go," I whined, tired.  

"Go out on a date with me," said Mark. My eyes widened, and my mouth dropped. A date?  

"Absolutely not. never going to happen," I answered firmly.  

"Fine, I guess I'll stay here forever, I'm an athlete. I can stay like this for more than 4 hours, and I could tell Mr. Johnson what you say about him like, let's say: asshole idiotic teacher." said Mark, in an annoying singsong voice.  

I gasped.  

"I never said that! Move."  

"Never budging."  

"Move."  

"No."  

"Please."  

"Never." 

"Pretty please." I fluttered my eyelashes. 

"Go on a date with me."  

"No."  

"Yes."  

"No."  

"Yes."  

"No."  

"No."  

"Yes." I blurted out, unaware of the word

Mark grinned triumphantly.

What? No, no, no. I was tired of this.

What harm would it do me? It was just a date.  

"I give up, fine. I'll go out with you on one date. Only one," I said, my expression tight. He leaned in so closely I could feel his hot breath on my ear. I could feel goosebumps on my arms, I shivered. This made me extremely uncomfortable. 

"Trust me, it'll be our first date and certainly not our last."  

Then, he walked away.  

***  

I know it's a bit confusing, but everything will get clearer. Who's your favorite male character? Mark, or mystery guy? ;) Thank you for reading, the next one will longer, trust me. Now, please vote, comment and read. <3 ~ForeverSmilingxoxo

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