I jolt awake with no concept of time and space... only that my neck hurts. Wiping off the drool on the side of my mouth I sit up straight, cracking my neck and back while I do so.

Ha, you thought I'd be that pretty sleeper. You thought wrong. I'm pretty confident I look like a Helga right now. And I say 'Helga' because the name reminds me of ogres. Like Shrek's mistress, or something of the sort.

Note to self: don't fall asleep on McDonald's booth benches again.

I rub my eyes, and suddenly realise that I'm in a public place, and check to make sure my stuff's still here.

I breathe out with relief when it's all there. I check my phone for the time, and my eyes widen, "Shit, I'm late!"

It's 8.40, school started half an hour ago. Quite the predicament for a 'nerd,' eh?

I scramble and pick up my bag, sprinting out the door, sticking my glasses onto my face. Turning back, I call, "Thanks!" To the ever uninterested guy at the counter.

I continue running to school, reaching half an hour later, in time for second period.

I guess it's a good thing I didn't go for a run yesterday?

I burst through the door, sweating. But at least it's winter and no one can really see that.

Everyone stops what they're doing and looking at me. Once again I thank my brown skin for hiding the fact that I hate this attention and it's making me uncomfortable, also known as going as red as a sunburnt person.

"Sorry sir, for being late," I say. I feel like there would be no better way to describe how I actually said it, because it was neither shy nor confident.

I guess you could say it was meh, like me.

Mr. Eliot looks at me. Imagine your stereotypical middle aged white man. Complete with the receding hair line gelled to the side, and glasses he would call spectacles. Because he is that old.

He could look like Jeffrey Dahmer.

Alright in all fairness, the guy likes me. Naturally. He also hates everyone who wasn't me. Cue smirk and arrogant hair flip.

But really it wasn't something to be proud of, he only likes me because I get good grades.

He's also crazy creepy.

And now he's looking at me like he wants to rip my head off, over his spectacles like librarians do, "And what would the reason for this tardiness be, Ms. Taylor?"

Note to self: if someone still uses words like 'tardy,' you know they could be a virgin.

I inwardly groan, "Um, I didn't have a ride to school."

"That's why there's a common method of transport known as the bus, or how about the train?"

I resist rolling my eyes. Someone lacks common sense. Naturally when I say a ride I mean anything that moves and takes people places.

My dreams are not one of those at the moment.

"Sorry sir, I woke up late. It won't happen again."

He gives me one of those sadistic happy smiles, and I return his stare. What a poor guy, Mr. I'm-fifty-and-still-single gets his kick out of public humiliation. Talk about kinky.

"I would hope not. I won't give you a detention this time round, but next time I won't be so kind."

I resist rolling my eyes. Again, detention would be mercy in my opinion, if it means I don't have to go home.

"Also we had a new student today and since you failed to show up to class on time you'll have to sit next to Mr. Stone for the rest of the term till we switch places again, sorry."

I concede a small groan, looking at the smirking asshole at the back of the class in the corner. He generally enjoys not sitting next to anyone, rich people privileges?

I look at the guy that stole my seat. He shrugs sheepishly, almost apologetically. I sigh, poor guy.

He's going to hate it here.

I plonk down next to Ethan and take out my books.

"So, how excited are you to be constantly finding yourself so close to me?"

I roll my eyes this time, and feign gagging.

He smirks, "Don't lie."

I look at him face completely unimpressed, "I honestly didn't even know you were in my class."

And it's true, I swear I didn't. The guy wears dark ass clothes and blends in with the rest of the white ass grade and then sits in the back corner of the class.

So we're just going to talk to him and forget about what the asshole did this morning?

I squint, thinking. I don't have the energy to beat an apology out of him right now; I just ran to school. Can't blame me. We'll let him off the hook this time round.

He puts a hand to his heart, "I'm wounded, nerd."

No, but I really wanted you to slap him again.

I shrug, replying to both the batshit crazy voice in my head, and Ethan, "Oops."

"Quiet back there!" Mr.Eliot snaps.

Oh darn it. I'm not really getting any brownie points here, am I?

Ethan nudges me, "Hey nerd, you wanna do my homework?"

I flip the child off and continue taking notes, while concurrently doing the homework set out at the beginning of class. Who ever said I wasn't like every one else in the room who doesn't want homework?

Ethan has now transitioned from nudging me to throwing eraser pieces at me, "Hey, you staying over again tonight?"

I cringe at the innuendo he made that had heads from the immediate vicinity around us turning.

I look at him, "Aren't you supposed to be the popular asshole guy who doesn't talk to anyone that isn't on his tier in the social hierarchy?"

Does he ever properly smile? Because all I see right now is a cocky, barely there smirk, "so she does talk. No I'm supposed to be the popular asshole guy that is actually a sweetheart... in bed." He pauses, tapping his chin in thought before looking at me, "Wanna see for yourself?"

I groan in exasperation. So we've progressed from being mutually rude to each other, to him throwing digs at me. I think I would take the former relationship without a second thought. This fast transition in whatever the hell is going on here is making me sick.

"That's the sounds all the girls make when I'm with them."

I scoff, "Yeah, because they're irritated you finished too early." If he wants immature banter, he's going to get immature banter.

He puts his hand against his heart in mock offence, the smirk on his face still ever present, "And how would you know, Ms.Taylor?"

I put my pen down in shock, adding in a gasp for good measure.

He looks at me, cocking his head to the side, "What?"

"You didn't call me nerd!"

He scowls, the sham of a smile finally disappearing, "My bad."

I grin, "Hey it's ok you can actually acknowledge you're talking to someone for once."

He just squints at me. I wink. My turn to be annoying.

"Why so stony, eh, Mr.Stone?"

I poke his cheek, "Hey, don't be such a pebble."

He looks at me, "That doesn't even make sense."

I sigh in disappointment, "We're in an English lesson and you don't remember the poetry we are literally doing right now?"

He rolls his eyes, "Of course I do," he deadpans.

I roll mine in response, "Naturally, you clearly have a 'don't give a fuck' reputation to maintain."

"And you clearly are the clod that gets walked all over."

I look at him, surprised, "Hey, you actually are paying attention to William Blake's quality Clod and the Pebble."

He glares at me, "Don't even think about calling this shit quality."

I grin, "Don't be so sedimentary."

"That doesn't even make sense!"

"That's quite enough of you two back there!" His highness shouts from a top his throne.

"Sorry, sir," I say, sheepishly. I'm definitely not liked by this guy anymore.

"It's not my fault your classes are boring," he says at the same time.

The class falls into a very tense silence as we all witness Mr. Eliot go such a shade of scarlet that even my Hindu self did the cross in prayers that his head doesn't explode. That vein on his head was getting unnaturally large.

"MR.STONE, GET OUT OF MY CLASS RIGHT NOW. NOW. I WILL NOT TOLERATE SUCH DELINQUENCY IN THIS CLASS. AND DETENTION FOR A WEEK."

All caps is the only way to describe how ear shattering that shout was. My ears have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from that. It was like impersonating a chimpanzee, but way too many decibels higher.

Ethan stands up, "thank the merciful lord for that escape." And walks out the class with such triumph I wondered how he hadn't gotten his head rammed in a wall yet.

Everyone else in the class with a functioning brain sits there, watching Mr.Eliot heave with coronary heart disease. The hamburger-eating, soul-drinking monster.

I look up to the ceiling, silently thanking whichever god it was that answered my prayers. In my opinion, Eliot here only figuratively exploded, so that's a win.

I spent the rest of the lesson in silence, and thought back to his question. Am I going to go back to his house?

I roll my eyes, that better not be the case.

•

*cue best Texan impersonation*

Howdy y'all.

Go vote and cah-mment on mah chapter if yah liked it. Hope y'all did.

Also go tell all your gal-friends and boyfriends about his here story, would greatly appreciate it.

Bai,

Aash