"AND A LITTLE GIRL SHOULD BE CAREFUL, BUT WHO'S GONNA SAVE HER?"
જ⁀➴ Safeword by TV girl
"So, I want you students to do a project. In pairs of course." Louis and I exchange a quick glance before looking straight forward at the woman again. The magazine question, wasn't the best as you could imagine. Arguing is the only thing the guys have been doing ever since Mrs. Couret found out. Of course, they are blaming one another. Descamps and Dupin told the others that they were out of it and the rest of them decided, that the one who brought the magazine to school should take the blame. At least that's what Louis told me.
"But," Mrs. Giraud smiles as she walks in front of her teaching post and leans on it. "We'll count. Each of you gets a number from 1-15 and you'll have to find the person with the corresponding number." I enhale a sharp breath, almost loud enough for everybody else to hear. When is it I'm going to have some luck at this school? There's a chance out of 15 to get to do this with Louis, and with my level of fortune, it's practically impossible.
"Okay Mr Applebaum, one" she points to the boy, then to next and onto the next one saying the following number. "Mr. Descmaps, nine," and so on. Blah, Blah, Blah. This is bullshit. At least at my old all-girls- school you could choose who to partner up with; my theory is that this only happens in Mrs. Girauds class. Well, it's more of a wish than a theory.
"Mr. Lavigne, eight. Ms. Iverson, nine."
Wait, she did not just say 9. I prepared myself mentally to not be in a team with Louis, not to be in one with Descamps! I look over at him to see his reaction, but his happy expression tells me the realization has yet to be kicked in for him. Before I can even register what I'm doing, my hand shoots up in the air, the motion catching Mrs. Girauds attention. "Yes, Ms. Iverson?" I feel my classmates glances lingering on me as I start to speak.
"I know these aren't the rules but I cannot do this project with Mr. Descamps."
What? I hear him whisper shout to Dupin with a tone of exhaustion and uncertainty. "Ms. Iverson, is there a particular reason? Because if there isn't, it would be unfair to the other students." I sigh, trying to be as respectful as possible. "Not really. But I don't like him." "For your information I don't like you either!"he shouts across the classroom. "That's not my problem. You'll work together if you like it or not and your presentation better be perfect because I've already taken off two points for your...theatrical piece."she spits out and walks to the board again.
I lean back in my chair, which gives me a sense of uncomfort, crossing my arms as I look over at Descamps. His jaw is clenched shut and his glance his heavy on my body. I glare at him and tick my jaw, wondering how we'll manage to do this and still be healthy and intact.
"Mine or yours?" I hear the voice, that's been torturing me ever since day one, speak. I hold my flower printed bag tightly to the covered and delicate skin of my ribs. "What?"I turn around abruptly, almost making the boy run into me. "The project. Where are we going?" he looks down at me with an innocent smile. One that would make old women on the street stop to tell him how much of a gentleman he'll grow up to be because he just looks so sweet. Ugh.
"Uhm, nowhere? Descamps, we have a week to finish this project and sincerely, I'm procrastinating it for as long as possible." He rolls his eyes and all of the sudden, his kind and nonchalant mask morphs into his neglected and vicious mask, which is the persona that he's taught me to see ever since we've met. "Come on, don't you wanna get it over with?" "It's just a research, it's a piece of cake!" He flares his nostrils and ticks his jaw while looking away and nodding.
"Can I at least walk you home? So we can discuss when and where to do this project." I take a second to think about it as we start to walk out of school. I sigh as I look back at the boy, who's following right behind me and nod, giving in. "Fine, but only today. I don't wanna be seen walking around with you." "That'd be terrible, wouldn't it be?"he smirks, walking to his bike. I stand there quietly, watching him bent down to unlock his bike. "I thought you were gonna walk me ho-" "Did I say walk? I meant I'll give you a ride home." I cross my arms and furrow my brows as I start walking my over to him.
"Regarding to bikes, give me my fucking bike back!" I shout at him as he holds the bike, ready to hop on. "Wow, that's not very lady like of you to say. You know, the word 'fuck'? But don't worry, I think it's sexy when you say it."he leans on the vehicle with a smirk plastered on his stupid face. "Shut up, don't try to change the subject. I want my bike! Louis has to pick me up every day because of that." Descamps kisses his teeth as he listens carefully to what I have to say.
"Flower girl, I'm very sorry but I don't know what you're talking about. Sincerely. I'm not a robber or some kind of robin hood." he says with straight face, but he can't fool me anymore.
"Oh aren't you now?" I let out a laugh, in mix with a scoff. "Juliette, I wouldn't to that." his voice is calm and confident. "But you would throw a bucket of water on me?"
"No! But I would let a bucket of water fall on you," he laughs, but quickly returns to his unbelievable state of seriousness.
"No but in all seriousness Juliette, I don't know who hates you as much as to stealing your bike, but strangely, it's not me. I swear to you. Now hop on, I'm bringing you home." Without arguing any further, mostly because I'm exhausted from the school day but also a little tad because I'm afraid I might give in and belive him, I hop on the bike, holding myself onto his waist as he drives off to my house.
The drive was quiet, but there wasn't much to say anyway. I try to hold my hands as loosely as I could around his clothed skin, not wanting to seem as if I was enjoying being this close to him. Once we arrive, I get off and thank him. "Thanks." It's the only thing I say right before starting to walk towards my front door.
"Wait!" he calls behind me. "We need to schedule something, remember?" I turn around, leaning on the big white door of my house. "Saturday, at mines, 3 pm?"I cross my arms. "What about maybe Thursday, so tomo-" "Take it or leave it! Jesus christ..." I roll my eyes at his persistence. "That's perfect. See you tomorrow." he turns and starts to drive away.
I step in the house and a certain feeling, which I've had since I've stepped out of school, is starting to linger a little too much. It's like when you're going on a trip, and on your way to the airport, you start to have that feeling that you might've forgotten about something, but you just can't figure out what. You usually remember when it's too late.
I slip out of my shoes and run upstairs to my room, not having enough energy to bicker around with my father. My sheets feel cold on my skin while I lay on it, my eyes closed shut. All of the sudden I open my eyes, staring at the ceiling, and just like magic, I remember.
I stood up Jean Pierre...
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GUYS OMFG 10k?!?!?!!! THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!! How have you been? What do we think of this? As always let me know!🤭
