"His fingers scraped like frostbite against your skin, frigid and chilling. You were almost tempted to look and see if the places he touched had gone black and blue."
༶☆
The unshakable feel of adventure always wracked through your bones as though yo...
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august 18, 2004. continued.
You regretted the question as soon as it left your mouth. Jessica hasn't stopped talking for the past five minutes, and after the first two, you stopped listening.
"...Dr. Cullen's children have the most blessed genes I've ever seen. I still think there's no way they're all adopted, but Ange says I'm being crazy. Am I crazy? They all have, like, the same features, y'know? And, get this, they're all dating each other." Jessica pauses to give you a dramatic look.
"Crazy," you murmur at her, hoping it was the correct response. She nods furiously at you and your shoulders sag in relief.
"Right? It's so odd, Lauren said it's not true, but I swear it is! The way they look at each other..."
As quickly as you could, you took the chance to run. "Woah, that's really crazy," You throw a look over your shoulder and turn to her with a smile. "I think your friends are waiting on you."
Jessica spins around and you sprint. Well not actually, but it's the thought that counts, right? When Jessica turns to look at you with a weird face-- because her friends are definitely not paying attention to her-- she is only met with the back of your head, many feet away from her.
You carefully ignore the glare pinching into your skin from behind you as you make your way to a table in the corner of the lunchroom.
You don't notice the multiple pairs of golden eyes following you.
|
When the bell rings, you aren't very surprised at who's seated next to you. Mr. Berty never did care much for chatting teens, and you were always sat with kids who wouldn't stop talking. Now, since he got new students, there was no surprise he'd place one of them next to you.
It is so awkward.
Even if he was really pretty and had the coolest eyes you've ever seen, not that it matters, he was like a brick wall. A wall with gorgeous eyes, and really nice hair-- okay, it totally does matter, but still. His shoulders sat incredibly stiff at his side, not even glancing at you once this whole period. To be honest, you're not sure he's even breathed.
Forcibly, you decide to ignore him and grab the worksheet your English teacher passes out, already scanning the sheet for answers you know.
As your filling them in, you finally see him move from the corner of your eye, picking up his own pencil and scribbling something down.
For someone so tense, his handwriting was the nicest you've ever seen. Self-consciously, you turn and stare at your own, tapping your pencil against your lip in thought.
