Hey There, Delilah

Hey There, Delilah (17)

"This is boring," Gabe whined, bouncing the pencil by its eraser lightly now and again on my carpet. I gave him a flat look, but I felt my eye twitch as I watched him. He really knew how to push my buttons, even more than Seth did. And that was saying something.

I only frowned even more when I thought of Seth. We hadn't spoken to each other since he had kissed me, and that was only two days before. It was really awkward being around him. I honestly didn't have any romantic feelings for him, and the kiss was really just in the moment. But I didn’t understand why he had kissed me so passionately, if he supposedly hated me.

I hoped he didn't like me that way. He still liked Marnie, didn't he? He was only using me to get her jealous. Yeah, that was it. Seth couldn’t like me. There was no way that that was possible. He was Seth, wasn’t he? Yeah. There was no way he could like me.

"It's our project," I said, tossing a tiny piece of crumbled up lined paper at him. He wrinkled his nose, glaring at me a little. "I know you don't care about what grade you get on this thing, but I do. I'm not going to fail just because you don't want to do any work."

"Someone's in a bad mood," Gabe said, smirking slightly. My eyebrows furrowed as I continued to look at him. "I am not in a bad mood," I snapped, biting my lip after I had done so. That definitely made it sound like I was in a bad mood. Maybe I was.

Gabe was going to say something, but I cut him off before he could. "Just start writing the stupid poem down. It'll look a lot neater if you write it in cursive, so do that."

Gabe's nose wrinkled once again. "I can't write in cursive," he told me, tossing the pen to me. I rolled my eyes, but then my gaze turned into a sheepish one.

"Neither can I," I admitted, looking down at the carpet. "Never mind with the cursive then. Both our handwritings would probably make the poster look like crap, so typing everything up would probably be the best idea. I don't want to get marked down because everything's not neat."

Gabe didn't say anything, but I knew he agreed. I knew he didn't care at all about what grade we got on the poster; his dad would bail him out of any mess he got into. I didn't have that though, so I had to do well on the poster. Since Gabe obviously didn’t care.

I just didn't want to do all the work, which seems like what was happening as we sat in my room. Couldn't he just do one thing to actually make it look like I didn't do all the work myself?

Apparently not.

I seriously felt like kicking him or something as I waited for him to volunteer to type up the rough drafts that I had written. But he continued to shuffle through the papers that were in front of him, making a mess. If he didn't volunteer, I was just going to make him. I didn't feel like typing after all the writing I had done.

"What?" Gabe asked, noticing the way I was looking at him. "What's with the look?"

"You're typing these up," I demanded, pushing the papers over to him.

He raised an eyebrow, looking at me and then to the paper. "No I'm not," he said, pushing the papers back toward me.

I pushed them right back. "Yes you are."

He pushed them toward me again. "No I'm not."

I pushed them once again. "Yes you are."

He pushed them as well. "No I'm not."

Push.

Thrust.

Shove.

Throw.

Slap!

"Ow!"

I stuck my tongue out at him, pushing the papers over to him once again. "Serves you right."