Seating Arrangement

Grayson & Amelia // one \\

Grayson sits in his chair, glaring at the table like it is the reason for him having to sit there, next to Amelia.

Amelia doesn't look happy about it either, Grayson notices.

The two of them hate each other, that much is obvious.

But every now and again, Grayson will sneak a look at Amelia and his frown will soften, if only for a second. Then it's back to glaring at the table.

Because glaring is something Grayson does best. He can glare at everything and anything, even if he's not in a bad mood.

Grayson thinks that today will be a day of glaring at his English teacher. After all, it's her fault that he's sat next to his arch nemesis.

"Everyone, open your copies of the book, and start reading. You can read as far as you need, just no spoilers for people who read slower." The English teacher says. Grayson doesn't miss the way her eyes land on him and Amelia, and he doesn't miss the small smirk that tugs on her face.

That's when Grayson knows that his English teacher is up to something.

"Your chair is on my bag strap, dickweed. Move it." Amelia snaps. Grayson rolls his eyes but lifts his chair so that the diva can get her bag.

But Grayson says nothing, because he has nothing to say to Amelia Scott. Instead, he sits in silence, not really doing much of anything, until the bell rings and he can leave.

You see, Grayson doesn't do the whole fighting in class thing. He prefers to bicker when the teacher can't tell him to zip it, because that's when he gets to actually finish an argument.

"You never apologised for having your chair on my strap, you know." Amelia's voice irritates Grayson before he's even twenty paces out of the classroom.

"I didn't realise I had to." He bites back, not bothering to turn and look at the girl he hates with every part of him.

"Yes, you did. You still do." Grayson can hear the smirk in Amelia's voice, because he knows that she's aware of how annoying and petty she's being.

"It's a free country, Scott, I don't have to do shit." Grayson has stopped walking now, and the two of them are facing each other.

"Yet you kiss everyone else's ass like the golden boy you're trying so hard to be."

"That's bullshit and we both know it."

"Do we?" Amelia is twisting a strand of her sandy blonde hair around her finger.

Surprisingly, Grayson used to find that simple gesture cute, but now it is just another thing in the background. He doesn't care, because he doesn't particularly care about her.

That's what he tells himself anyway.

Amelia is gorgeous, that's undeniable. But she's a bitch. Grayson has always known that, even when they tolerated each other back in those days when they barely knew each other. Now they just squabble and fight. Grayson has a scar under his left knee from pissing off the surprisingly intimidating blonde girl the summer that they first met. Amelia was learning to throw knives and decided that aiming didn't matter as long as she did some damage to the irritating boy with the dark brown curls.

"Grayson, bro, I haven't seen you in ages! Oh, hey Scott." Grayson's closest male friend, Ray, claps him on the back and offers Amelia a polite half-nod.

"Ew, why are you talking to me?" She crinkles her nose in disgust and sashays away, Grayson's eyes following her until she's out of view.

"What's with the unspoken sexual tension?" Ray makes a low whistling sound that makes Grayson want to punch him.

"We have to sit together in English."

"Shit, man, that's gotta be interesting."

"I'm either going to kill her or kill myself." Grayson mutters, glaring daggers at the floor.