Cliché

Homework on a Friday?

Christina

I stood still.

I was just too shocked to react to anything around me. A million of emotions and thoughts were running through my head, but all I was thinking about was if I should tell Blake or not.

Of course you should tell him, idiot.

But I couldn't. He would start worrying about me and he would want to get to the bottom of it.

I mean, I wanted nothing more than to know who was doing this, but I felt like I would be a burden if I involved Blake in this too. After all whoever was doing this, wanted to get revenge on me. Not Blake. I would just have to figure this out for myself.

I tore the pregnancy test off, along with the note and threw them both out, quickly before anyone saw and got the wrong idea. I ran to the bathroom to wash my hands because God knows where that test has been.

After rinsing my hands with soap over and over again, I walked out and headed to class but when I passed by my locker again, Brett, a jock who happens to be a football player and Belle's current boy toy, was leaning near my locker.

Weird....why would he be leaning by my locker?

Could Brett be the one behind this all?

No. He's way to stupid to be able to come up with such a devised plan.

Shaking away the thoughts, I speed walked to class and made it with barely 30 seconds left to spare.

-------------------------

The rest of the day went by pretty fast and before I knew it, I was heading out to my car and getting seated before I was stopped.

Literally.

I felt a hand tug at my wrist and looked over, only to find a very cute looking Blake. He always looked cute. I turned my head quickly so he wouldn't catch me staring, but as always, I was too slow and he already caught me.

Dang it.

"Like what you see, Chris-cross?" he asked, a smirk growing on that overly handsome face of his.

Overly handsome? Oh dear.

"Only in your dreams, Thompson." I replied.

"Well, then I guess you already know what I dream about." he replied cheekily.

Making a mental note to stop blushing around him so easily, I turned my head and kept walking to my car, hoping that he wouldn't see how red I was.

But then, at that moment, I just had to trip over my feet. Closing my eyes, I braced myself for the fall that was awaiting me, but it never came.

Slowly, I opened my eyes and saw that my knees were merely inches away from hitting the concrete and a strong pair of arms were wrapped around my waist, protecting me like a seat belt.

"Thanks," I mumbled, shyly, once again resembling a tomato.

"Hey, look at me," he tiled my chin up, "you're cute when you blush."

I turned 20 times redder. If that was even remotely possible.

I slapped his chest playfully, making him stumble back a bit. Surely I hadn't hit him that hard...

"Ow woman! What was that for?" he cried out.

"Stop doing that." I said.

"Doing what?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows, making him look even cuter than he already was.