credits to @obsessivenostolgicbaby on tumblr
"Taaate," You whined, gripping onto your boyfriend's sleeve as he lead you down the hallway. "We can't skip class again, it's like the fifth time this week..."
"No, it'll be fine, it's only social studies, we're not gonna miss much." He chimed, intertwining his fingers with yours and turning a sharp corner around Westfield High.
You inhaled, releasing a strenuous groan. In all honesty, you weren't so positive that missing another class would do any good for your grades. The more people close to you told you that being with Tate put a strain on your education, the more you pushed them away and pulled him closer. It was like a south and north pole attracting together as if it were meant to happen.
You know how it goes. The cliché, right? The lonely boy and the lonely girl finding comfort in one another's isolation. The cute notes being sent back and forth during fifth period and tacked onto the locker of the girl. She can't see anything but him, and vice versa. The implications of a forbidden infatuation seething through each other's veins until it inhibits the entire soul of one's body.
It's a cliché that can only be dreamed of by jocks and cheerleaders; their effortless PDA going hand in hand with endless praise and encouragement to do more, to be more. Everyone wanted that excitement. The excitement of perhaps getting caught, being found out and even the excitement of being in that forbidden infatuation.
Tate's tight grip encumbered your skin as he lead you and your futile attempts of going back to class out the main doors and down the path towards the parking lot. He stopped at your car, looking down at you with an expectant gaze. His hand squeezed yours, eyes shifting back and forth from you and your car.
"Yes? Can I help you?" You asked, stifling a small and irritable chuckle. He just tilted his head to the side, signalling to your car. "Tate, you really need to invest in a car if you think we're gonna be skipping class all the time." You rolled your eyes, opening the door and sliding into the driver's seat.
You looked up at your boyfriend, who was still stood there, staring at you. "You getting in, or what?" You giggled at his zealousness. You could never resist that blonde haired, doe eyed boy that stopped you in your tracks to ask if you liked Nirvana on that one Winter day.
Tate got in the passenger's seat of your car and looked at you. "Don't be mad 'cause I got you out the most boring class there is." He emphasised by rolling his voice into a deeper octave.
"If it's so boring, why did you choose it?" You retaliated, mocking his octave change and pulling out of the school's parking lot.
"Because you did." He simply answered, passing a toothy grin to your eyesight. Your urges to go back to class thinned at the peripheral sight of your boyfriend's cute demeanour.
"Okay... Well, you're paying for the gas. Your idea, you pay the consequence, Tater-tot." You chimed, popping your mouth as you drove down the heated LA roads.
"Ugh, do you gotta call me that though? Can't you call me something more manly, like hot stuff? Or hot thing?" You rolled your eyes at his words, as he continued. "Like, walking down the hallway and seeing me and being all, 'hey hot thang!'"
"Tate." You spoke calmly, turning your head to look at him for a split second before diverting your attention back onto the road. "I'm not like those other girls that like to pretend their boyfriend is the living end."
"No... You're way hotter." He nudged your leg, chuckling under his breath, you returning the gesture with a light giggle.
"Yeah? Well you're cute and hot. Like a tater-tot." You grinned to yourself. "But I can try to be like those girls. If you really want me to."
