High School Treachery | ✓

10 | My Seat

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My Seat

I've never seen myself as an artistic person. Back in Beach Way, I was more athletic than anything. Sure, I'm lazy when it comes to a lot of things, but when it's something I'm actually passionate about? There's no stopping me.

Well, that's not entirely true. Swimming was my passion, and my school had certainly stopped me from doing that.

Losing swimming meant finding something to put all my energy into. Other than my relationship with Liam—that I had completely thrown myself into—I had nothing else, so I turned to my studies.

Honestly, I kind of regret that choice, due to all of the AP classes Arlin Preparatory has placed me into. The only time I can catch a break, other than during lunch and health, is my art class.

I let out a relieved breath when I take a seat by the window, happy to have scored this seat and knowing I'm forty-five minutes closer to leaving this hellhole called school.

That relief leaves when someone takes the seat next to me. I've sat alone in the last two class periods, and I figured the day I moved my seat to the window things would change, but I didn't expect to not even have a second alone.

I roll my eyes and look to the person, feeling my breathing stop when I see it's Elijah.

"Uh, hi," I mumble when I realize I'm just sitting here staring at him.

"You're in my seat," he says jokingly, smile beaming at me.

I nod my head. "I assumed this seat belonged to someone else. This view is too good to give up, though. You're not getting it back."

"It's all good," he says through his smile. "Just plug my phone in for me?"

I look to the charger he's handing me, then follow as he motions with his head to the outlet that's below the windowsill.

"Sure thing," I say, taking the charger and leaning down. I go half under the desk to reach, and after plugging it in with shaking hands because I know he's watching me, I start getting up. Of course, I can't ever be smooth and not embarrass myself, as I misjudge how far I move back and bang my head under the desk. "Ow."

"Are you alright?" Elijah asks, concerned. His hand reaches out to lightly touch my head when I finally lean back in my seat. With his hand lightly gripping my head, he uses his fingers to slowly massage where I bumped it. "Are you in pain?"

"Not anymore," I say lowly, immediately widening my eyes after, praying he didn't hear how lame that sounded.

I can't deny that having him massage my head doesn't feel damn good, though. At least not to myself.

He chuckles, still holding my head. "Sure? It sounded painful."

Cause it fucking was! "It sounded worse than it was." I let out a forced laugh, trying to save myself from looking stupider.

"That's the last time I ask you for a favor," he jokes as he pulls his hand away. His expression turns serious. "Are you sure you're fine? You don't need the nurse to check just in case?"

"I'm fine, Elijah," I say with my most convincing smile.

He smiles at his name. "Okay, Lyndon."