His Flower (Rewritten)

Chapter 3

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Chapter 3

       Rex wasn't at school the next day, or the day after that, and if the other boys were, I hadn't seen a wink of them. Not that I usually did before the locker-incident anyway.

       By the time the third day came around I was quickly losing what little courage I had, and the whole 'thanking' him plan was spiraling down the drain. My mood was completely somber as I walked into third period, the one class I had with Rex.

       I was one-hundred percent expecting him to be absent again, and I wasn't quite sure how I felt when I saw him sitting at his usually desk in the back of the room, those always empty seats surrounding him.

       I still wanted to thank him, still felt like I had to, but my courage from before was almost completely gone and he was Rex Turner. I can't make it clear enough how you don't talk to Rex Turner.

       I don't know how long I stood in front of my usual desk, clenching and unclenching my binder tightly to my chest while my mind waged war on what I should do. Stay in the safety of the front of the room and never thank him or be a good human-being and show that I appreciated his help.

       The good part of me won, the part that knew thanking him was the right thing to do, even if I ended up in a gutter somewhere.

       I let out a shaky breath, clutched my binder even tighter and pushed through the still half-empty room. It was all I could do to keep from shaking, though I wasn't sure if the nerves raging through me were because of his reputation, or the way those almost chestnut-like eyes did funny things to my stomach.

       He wasn't looking at me, and I'm pretty sure that was the only reason why I could walk up to him without running in the opposite direction. There was Jason-dangerous, and then there was Rex-dangerous, even if the second way didn't make my skin crawl—in a bad way at least.

       He looked as I imagined a Greek god would. Perfectly chiseled jaw line, high cheek bones, and smoldering eyes that would turn anyone into a pile of goo. He was perfection incarnate.

       And completely out of my league.

       The thought shook me immediately of my surfacing daydreams, and I took the empty seat beside him distractedly. It was cruel to myself to think of such things when I knew they didn't matter. I had more of a chance with Channing Tatum then Rex Turner.

       I sent my binder down on the desk hesitantly, every nerve in my body coiled in anticipation. Rex didn't need to yell or shout to get his point across, one dark look was all it took to send people scurrying in every direction. I waited for one of these looks now, expecting those dark eyes to shoot icy daggers into my soul.

       I held my breath, waiting for the horrid encounter, but he didn't even acknowledge I was there. The only reason I knew he knew of my existence was by how he shifted uncomfortably in his seat—closer to the window and further from me, a scowl pulling at his lips.

       I let a rather shaky breath pass my lips. I was doing a lot of those lately. Then again, I haven't been noticed by this many people in a while. The nerves strumming through my entire being were beyond chaotic.

      The thick fur like feeling from before was slowly over taking my tongue, and there was a nervous heat traveling from my lower back to my neck then back down again. Just sitting beside him turned me into a visible train wreck, I doubted I would be able to actually speak to him.