Eyes Like Daggers Burning Your Soul

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Pulling up at school, I can't stop the butterflies wreaking havoc in my gut. I can still feel his lips and tongue on... feel this morning's shower. The day ahead... I'm sure fretting about dad will take up some space in my noggin, but Fletcher is here. Fletcher is my boyfriend. He's my fucking boy...

Okay, breathe, Clay. You have countless days ahead. Slow yourself right down and—

I whip my phone out, thumbs a blur as I text him to let him know I'm here and to meet at our lockers. ASAP. His response is purely Fletcher.

'Mate are you serious? I'm not even changed. Still having breakfast.'

I smile and then text back: 'In your underwear?'

'How'd you know?'

'I know everything about you, babe. Kind of my job.'

'Oh yeah? What am I eating right now?'

I purse my lips. He really underestimates me.

'Coco Pops. And you're drinking mango juice.'

A few more seconds than usual pass before he responds, and I can just see him blushing in my head.

'Shit. Am I really that predictable?'

'The real question is what don't I know about you?'

'I have my secrets. Uh... Let me think some up. K gotta go. Don't want my Coco Pops going soggy. See you soon. Don't wait up on me.'

Shit.

'Wasn't going to. ;P'

The usual Fletcher response at this point is a witty comeback. What I get instead melts my heart.

'Love you.'

We've only said it like fourteen times over the past twenty-four hours, but it still doesn't feel entirely real. Like I'm half expecting to wake up, all of this nothing more than a good dream. Urgh. Those are the worst. I think I'd die if this was all some elaborate mind-fuckery.

'Love you too, XX'

XX? What am I, mum?!

Cracking my neck, I begin to chew at my bottom lip. I continue going through the motions as I lean on one foot, pressing for something to do while I wait. I decide to text Chelsea as I head for my locker. I ask her where she is and she responds promptly.

'omw. 2 mins.'

No Fletcher yet—my heart aches! But Chelsea is my bestest girlfriend, and boy do I have some major goss for her. My phone buzzes. Another text from Chelsea.

'nvr mind. Some asshole sped a light in front of me. Not looking pretty. Let's say 15 mins.'

"Fuck me," I say aloud, right as two girls pass me to head to their lockers. They glare and hurry past. Uh, shit. Wish I was back to being alone. Really, this place should be filling up about now but most sixth formers are lazy asses. Look at Fletcher. He wasn't kidding. Right now in his kitchen he'd be happily munching away at his Coco Pops in nothing but his underwear. His sisters would be on their way to school already, and his mum at work, so he had the house to himself. Not that it would matter anyway. I've seen him sport his underwear in front of his family. They're used to it.

My mind flits uncomfortably to images of Kaylee. She's here, or I mean, she's somewhere here in the school and we've had a bit of a role reversal. Instead of avoiding Fletcher—now I'm avoiding a bad memory. Either way you slice it I'm a petty mofo who likes to run from his problems. It was easy enough to put her from my mind with the whirlwind of updates in my life. It's like, I'm living in this dreamscape of emotions: bubbles of colour and good vibes underlining my days. The only shit I've got time for is dad.

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