Chapter 9

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"Ms.Parker, would you like to answer the next question?", Mr. Rowland, my economics teacher asked me, snapping me out if my thoughts, that had completely consumed my mind.

"I'm sorry, sir. I'm not feeling too good. Please excuse me for now.", I told him, my voice wavering a little.

"Madison, are you okay?", he asked me, concern evident in his voice.

"Uh...", I shuttered, not being able to form a coherent sentence.

"Would you like a pass to the bathroom?", he asked, his kind, old face wrinkling with worry.

I smiled at my favourite teacher of all time, generously accepting the offer. Mr. Rowland always cared for me like a grandfather would. I don't care if you would call me weird, that old man was extremely important to me.

The whole class stared at me, quietly observing as I walked up to Mr. Rowland's desk. I swayed a little, and steadied myself at the last moment.

A few gasps were heard, as I nearly crashed to the floor.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. I felt extremely tired and weak. I didn't know why.

"Madison! Dear, are you okay? What's wrong?"

I shook my head, trying to act nonchalant about the situation.

"I'm.. fine. Please don't worry."

But that was of no use. Everybody stared at me with concern and worry.

"Would somebody please accompany Madison to the nurse?", Mr. Rowland inquired, looking around the class for an volunteer.

Before anybody could breathe a word, a deep voice spoke up, "I will."

Everybody looked up in surprise and astonishment, as they recognised the source of the voice.

Tristan O'Neil, the typical cliché type of bad boy you'd find in any highschool was the one who volunteered to take me to the nurse.

You'd ask why did we all seem so shocked? So let me give you a little brief on our bad boy.

Tristan O'Neil wasn't the player bad boy types. For all we knew, he was the reincarnation of Virgin Mary.

Kidding. But he hadn't been linked to a girl since forever. He was known to hate the female species and glared at every girl like they spit in his food or something. And he avoided the female race like the plague.
But that didn't stop the girls from my school from flirting with him, even if he shoved them away every time they stepped in a ten metre radius.

So naturally, everyone was shocked that he even wanted to tag along with me.

What are you planning, bruh?

Unless.... he wanted to murder me. After all,  Tristan was associated with gangs and dirty business all around. There were rumours about him working with a gang and dealing with drugs and murder on his hands.

But I didn't believe rumours, after all they were called rumours for a reason right?

I choose not to listen to them. Or listen to them and ignore. That was my motto.

Anybody who paid close attention to Tristan would know that he was always very angry. Constantly.

And I paid attention to the slightest of details. That's what makes a good detective. Not that I want to be one, huh.

Mr. Rowland didn't seem to have any problems about the suggestion and quickly agreed to it.

"That would be very kind of you, Tristan."

And then turned towards me with a small smile, "please take her to the nurse, quickly".

With a stiff nod, Tristan got out of his seat and walked towards me, gathering my books out of my hand and then proceeded to drag me out of the class.

The class stared as we left, flabbergasted as I was.

Can anyone please tell me what's happening?

I stared at the bad boy, as he continued to drag me around.

One thing is for sure, Tristan O'Neil was really, really good looking.

Dark hair that permanently sported the bed head look and stormy blue-gray eyes, that had a cold detached,  look, he was what all the girls desired. With a jaw that could cut paper and sharp cheekbones, he was as good looking as Alexander. Probably that's why they both were rated as the most desired guys last year, with both being tied at number one position.

Tristan was way taller time and had a body that most guys would be jealoused of, as good as Alexander's.

Oh god, why am I comparing these two boys to each other! What's wrong with me?

"We're here", a deep voice shook me out of my thoughts.

I looked up at him, and caught him staring at me with a weird expression.
Maybe he saw me checking him out and thought that I was one of those crazy fangirls. God, how embarrassing!

I started blushing like crazy, so I  decided to look away.

Oh, I wish he didn't see my beetroot red cheeks.

"Uh, thank you. You can go now, I'll be okay."

"No, I'm coming in with you", saying so he pushed me inside, and I stumbled in, almost landing flat on my butt.

The dizziness came back rushing to me, and I held the door for support.

"You're not okay", the same velvet voice urged, hot breath fanning my ear.

Tristan placed a gentle hand on the small of my back and I almost melted into a puddle.

Someone please call 911.

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To be continued..........

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Till then,

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