How To Play the Player (COMPLETED)

Give Me More, Mr. Nice Guy

                    

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't anxious to see my plan start to unfold before my eyes when I walked through the front doors of school the next morning. In Liam's eyes, this was all a pathetic book of ridiculous challenges; something he'd be able to finish in a month's time.

     He didn't understand just how difficult some of the tasks were going to prove to be for him. 

     Dragging myself down the empty halls, I stepped into my English class without much thought. Catching sight of Liam lounged back in his chair, feet kicked on to the dark table top, flexed arms behind his head. He looked undeniably comfortable and the smirk he wore only added to my sudden uneasiness. 

     Maybe this wouldn't be as hard for him as I thought.

     "Reese." he greeted with a grin. 

     I dropped my backpack on to the back of the chair, eying him wearily. 

     "Don't look so disappointed sweetheart." he leaned forward, dropping his feet to the tile with a loud thud. He outstretched his hand, palm up, as if he were awaiting my own, before brushing his fingers under my chin and pushing my mouth shut.

     "You don't wanna catch flies in there, now do you?" he taunted.

     No, but I do want to punch you. 

     "Please don't touch me." I muttered, shifting in my seat to pry notebook from my backpack.

     Liam yawned, stretching his arms behind his head again. "Why not?" 

     "I don't know, because I like having personal space and you're invading it?" I snapped irritably. 

     His smirk still didn't waver. 

     "I'm sorry I've made you uncomfortable, Reese." he said.

     I waited for a derogatory remark to follow, possibly something that may stroke his own ego, but nothing came. He trained his eyes on the back of Mr. Herring's head, the smirk growing as if he were stifling a laugh. 

     "Why do you even show up if you don't do anything in this class?" I questioned.

     Liam shot me a confused look. "It's called marking my attendance, sweetheart. Haven't you-" he stopped abruptly and swallowed before continuing. 

     "Haven't you ever realized I'm usually here for the class? I just don't do the work." 

     Even I had to admit it was a pretty good save.

     I stabbed my pencil into the first piece of notebook paper, cringing when the sharpened led snapped. I started to curse quietly, dropping it on the desk as I dug another one of out my pencil case. 

     "Getting a little aggressive with your writing there, are we?" Liam's quiet tease earned a dark look out of me. 

     "You're enjoying this far more than I thought you would." I grumbled, tapping my pencil against the edge of the desk. 

     He winked, then leaned back in his chair until the front legs of it lifted off the carpet. He rocked back and forth for a few minutes, watching the clock intently as he awaited the bell. The amused look in his clear blue eyes faded for a moment, revealing a little irritation. The look was gone as quick as it appeared, and he turned back to me. 

     "What are you looking at?" he asked. 

     I opened my mouth to respond, but Mr. Herring had made a guest appearance in front of our desk and leaned over it, staring between the two of us.