"What do I even say to her Reg?" I asked.

"What do you mean?" He replied.

Reginald Jensen was my room mate. He was tall, muscular, black hair and brown eyes, the sporty type and not the smartest kid in the class, that title belongs to me, but even though our differences, he was still my second best friend.

"With Jaime!" I said.

He put him laptop down and sat on the end of the bed.

"You're really going through with this aren't you?" He asked

" Yes, I am." I said

"Why? I mean, look at her, then, look at you, you should feel lucky." He said.

"Thanks man." I said sarcastically.

I mean, I suppose he was right, Jaime Schmidt was tall, skinny, with light blonde hair and was athletic. She had crystal blue eyes and full lips and an awesome body.

I however was slightly taller than her, with mucky blond, light brown messy hair. I was lanky and hated sports. I was a nerd.

So yes, I should have maybe felt 'lucky', but I didn't. She may have been beautiful, but she had the personality of a wet towel, but with a lot of bitchiness in her too. 

"What does that small dark-blue haired think?" He asked, getting up, walking to his mirror and loosely putting his tie on.

"I haven't told him yet, I'll go and ask him now." I said picking up my bag and putting it on my back.

"And for the last time, his name's THOMAS!" I shouted whilst leaving the room.

--------------------

Thomas Shelley. Small, extremely skinny, with dyed blue hair, and grey eyes. He was my best friend. He was a gymnast and had this huge obsession with maths, and Drama. That was something we had in common, Drama, and comics and books.

We were walking through the hall towards our first lesson, History. God how I hated history! What was the point in learning it, I know there was two world wars, which we one, and there was a heck of more wars before that. Why do I have to learn about a bunch of people who are dead? Not only that, but we're doing about the roaring twenties in America.. Why should I care about a load of Americans? I'm an English boy. I don't care.

"So you're actually going to do it! You're going to break up with her?" He asked.

"Yeah, We're just too different and have nothing in common."

"Sweet! How? An- and when?" He asked.

"Well, I'm going to tell her at lunch but I don't quite know how yet." I admitted.

"What? You need to plan!" He said.

"No I don't, You know more than anyone that I'm pretty good at improvising, I'll just make a speech up on the spot." I said.

"Fine! Whatever! OOH! Can I plan your funeral?" He asked sarcastically.

I glared at him and rolled my eyes as we sat down in history and my teacher walked it.