My Fake Boyfriend

Chapter 2

Enjoy! :)

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(Unedited) 

"Are you alright?" I hear a husky, low voice say and chuckle.

In front of me stands a tall, muscular guy with chiseled features, a piercing on his eyebrow, wearing semi-ripped jeans, a brown leather jacket which matched the same colour of his hair, and a slightly coffee stained white V-neck. Our eyes meet and I instantly notice how green they look. He might as well be the next "Sexiest Man Alive" for the People Magazine.

"Oh gosh, your shirt," he says, pointing at my now drenched red, brownish t-shirt.

Just. My. Luck. "I- uhh..." I manage to stutter out, not knowing what to say. I start laughing of the situation. "Well this is one way to wake yourself up with coffee." I see the guy grin a little with an amused look.

"Maybe you did deserve to have coffee spilled on you," he mutters, just loud enough for me to hear.

I narrow my eyes at him while standing up.

"Kidding," he laughs, making his dimples stand out. "Don't be so serious shorty."

"I'm not. And I'm not short," I snap at him.

"Aggressive too, huh?" He smirks.

I roll my eyes.

"Again, my apologies for all of this. Is there any way I can make it up to you?" he asks.

"Buy me a new shirt?" I say, jokingly.

"Well, I don't know about the new shirt, but I have a spare shirt in my backpack you could take."

"Oh," I laugh awkwardly. "I was only joking around."

"No, it's fine. I insist. You need it." His eyes drift down to my shirt. He pulls out a white t-shirt and hands it to me.

He walks with me to the nearest washroom. After changing, I open the stall door to see my reflection in the mirror on the wall. This is absolutely too big for me. I tuck the bottom of the shirt that ended just below my butt into my shirt. The collar of the shirt keeps sliding off my shoulders. I don't remember this guy being this big and tall. I walk out to see the guy leaning against the wall, looking at his phone with one hand and the other in his pocket. He notices me and looks up smirking a little. He mouths something, but I don't quite catch on to what he says because I'm too busy keeping the shirt from sliding off my shoulder.

"It's really big," I say, holding the collar of the shirt.

He smiles and then clears his throat looking more serious like he's trying to hide a smile or something. He runs his hand through his hair, pushing it back. "I- we're going to be late, se we better go."

"We're already late," I tell him. For some odd reason, I feel comfortable with letting my guard down with this guy. I'm never this forward with a stranger.

"Come on," he says, motioning me to follow him back.

Luckily this time, I'm not the only one getting scolded. When we walk in I feel the glare my teacher gives me cut straight through my soul. I quickly take a seat in one of the vacant chairs at the end of the long table and so does the guy.