Time With You Stands Still (bxb)

Chapter V.

When the last bell for the day rings, I honestly can't shove my books down my backpack quick enough. And I'm one hundred percent flunking Chemistry. And I feel bad for not caring. Except I really don't.

My feet drag against the floor walking across the hallways. Essentially, I feel like crap. And I'm clearly the only one in the entire campus having a shit mood because everybody else is so pumped about it being a Friday and they all discuss their plans for tonight, and they laugh about how they are going to get so thrashed.

All I want is to lay on my bed and sleep until Monday.

Usually I always end up exhausted after school ends, but I think there is something else contributing to it this time. It's been like this all week. Like, I'm gloomier and sludgier than usual. My brain feels like it's working at a slower pace. I've barely paid any attention to all of my classes this week, and I'm probably behind on some stuff, but I think I can catch up in the weekend, if my urge to revise my notes miraculously comes back.

I meet up with Emma and Robin outside, and the cold crisp air feels like a smack in the face after being in shut-in classrooms the entire day. We are all going to the Warehouse today. It's this vintage-ish diner in downtown SA that has brick walls on the inside, leather couches and old rugs that probably haven't been vacuumed in years, and rusty lamps hanging from the ceiling that flicker, but it is kind of my safe place at this point. And the food is fucking incredible, obviously. That's why I frequent it so often.

All the way to the parking lot, the girls trash talk about Jenna, the girl from the newspaper, and how brutal it was of her to show up wearing black Nike Air Force 1s, because nobody ever really pisses them off, but apparently that poor girl does just by breathing, so they laugh about it until Robin suddenly makes a comment about how I'm quieter than usual. I just say that I'm thinking about midterms. I don't know why I can't shake this antsy feeling off. It's like I'm bothered by something and I can't quite pinpoint what.

But when we finally get there I see Nathan Rogers, wearing a flannel and Dickies, chatting animatedly with Olivia at her car. He's got perfectly tousled wet hair and his cheeks are flaming red, which leads me to think he showered right after he got out of basketball practice. And, wow, he looks so attractive I pointedly look at the floor as we walk towards them.

"Hey!" He says when we get close enough. "Should we get going?"

My stomach drops. I didn't know he was going to be coming to the Warehouse too.

Here's the thing. So, he may be part of the reason I've been off track this week. Or just all of it.

I think there's the possibility I might be attracted to him.

In some way.

I'm not sure if it's physical attraction or if it's deeper than that- but it might be too early to know anyway. I guess I'll figure it out eventually. But there's something about this guy. All I know is that I've never been this twitchy and nervous around someone. But Nathan causes all my screws to go loose.

Or maybe I could label it like, a minor crush. A really subtle one. One that will most likely continue to grow, because that's just how embarrassing I am, and it's absolutely terrifying. I just want to avoid getting hurt if possible. The few times I actually grew interest in guys it started in nothing and ended in nothing, and then I called myself naive and questioned myself a thousand times if I really thought something could have ever happened romantically with this person. And after a while, I move on to another guy and it's the same thing. An endless loop of unrequited feelings.

To make myself sound even more ridiculous, I never end up finding out if those feelings are actually unrequited because the first step, logically, would be walking up to talk to these guys. But, every single thought overcomes me, and they don't even become aware I exist. One thing I learned quickly is that I'm invisible to everyone else who isn't my friends unless I do something about it.