Written March 26th, 2017. A kind of preview for this original idea I had, which is inspired by ThatCertainNerd 's Labels and Himitsudesu 's Stepping Stones. I might write more of this in the future, but it all depends on what you think of this!

e n t r y o n e | c o m e w i t h m e

"Come with me."

I spare you a glance. We attend the same school, the same class. But we aren't friends, nor are we acquaintances.

We are strangers.

So why do you look at me? Why do you have a hand outstretched towards me?

Your brow furrows, your mouth thins into a frown, as if you can't understand me. As if you can't understand my silence, my reluctance to respond.

I simply stare back at you, waiting for you to look away—to leave me be, I amend myself. I wait for you to walk away, as I have waited for the others to do so. (And they have, after a few moments of lingering in the classroom.)

I expect you to do the same—but you don't.

"Didn't you hear me?" You demand, and I almost smile at the impatience you now express. "I said come with me to the canteen."

I don't respond, and out of the corner of my eye I see you cross your arms over your uniform-clad chest. You purse your lips, and it resembles something akin to a child's pout when he doesn't get what he wants.

"Don't you have your own friends to be with?"

My reply seems to irritate you more. You avert your gaze, and you shift to a stance one can't help but associate with defense. "That's none of your business," you say petulantly, and I roll my eyes.

"It is if you ask a stranger to come with you to the canteen." You regard me dubiously.

"You're an idiot." You say, as if coming to a final decision regarding your assessment of me. I suppress the bubbles of laughter which come to my lips, almost bursting forth—but they peter out when you continue, "You're my classmate. So you aren't a stranger."

"I bet you don't even know my name," I respond, and you cast your stare towards heaven in a display of exaggerated annoyance.

"You're the newcomer," You begin evenly, and a smirk begins to take form upon your lips, which until now were set into a childlike pout. "From the public school nearby. Kirsten, isn't it?"

I frown, shutting the book I've been holding. You smirk triumphantly, and I resist the temptation to smack your face with the book. "That doesn't change the fact that we aren't close."

You aren't perturbed by my words. Instead, you reach out and grab my hand.

"You're still coming with me, Kirsten." You say, and I ignore the beginnings of some kind of emotion within me. It's irritation, I tell myself. It's certainly not the start of something. Not at all.

I look at you as you start to drag me out of the classroom. You're smiling, and I frown when I notice that you're amused by something. You're looking at me with the same devious look to your brown eyes as you had earlier.

"I knew that I could convince you to come."

"It's not like I had a choice, Gabriel," I respond. "You dragged me out against my will."

You look at me again after casting your gaze towards our path, and for a second your eyes look different than the troublemaker stare you've had for the past few minutes. "You know my name." You say, and I roll my eyes.

"You're an idiot." I say, "You're my classmate—of course I know your name." As the words leave my lips, I realize the irony of my statement against my earlier stand upon this matter.

It seems that you realize it at the same time as I have, and so you start to laugh.

And I don't regret punching your vulnerable arm when you do.

e n d

Soooooo what do you think?