Storm

Part one

We walk quiet, me and Dina, as we enter the loud school cafeteria. It's a grey, rainy wednesday. 

Nothing special has happened throughout the morning. Just the regular schedule: go to class, take notes, go to another class to take more notes, have gym class, suck at gym class and then get sent to lunch by Ms. Taylor all "sweaty" and "exhausted". I wish I could be as rebellious as Dina and skip class with her but I would never stand up against Ms. Taylor, she can probably benchpress her own husband and he's a lumberjack. She scares the crap out of me. 

We both get in line, grab food and sit down with our trays at our table, far back by the windows in the left corner of the dining hall. Dina talks on about this chemistry project and how Mrs. Ross apparently paired her up with the most boring guy in the class, on purpuse, because Dina told her to f-off last semester when she wasn't allowed to "examine" if the recipe for crystal meth they use in Breaking Bad really works. This is our routine. I let her rant about something and half-heartedly listen while trying not to stare at the hottest humanbeing that has ever sat foot on these bad-smelling, red linoleum floors. 

Peter Jones.

Careless, reckless, hot, I-just-want-you-to-see-me Peter Jones. We've been going to the same school since junior high and we haven't had eye contact once. He rides a motorcycle and spends his weekends getting smashed and having sex. He is nothing like me and I know that's what's making me keep on looking and longing for him eventhough he doesn't even know I exist. 

"You've gotta stop." 

I snap out of my thoughts and turn to Dina. "What?"

"You've gotta stop being so fucking fixated." She repeats and shakes her head. "It's creeping me out."

"Don't swear at me. And I'm not fixating, I'm just... looking." I answer and look down at the mashed potatoes on my plate, as I feel my cheeks heat up.

"Look, Jackie, I love you and all but you are indeed obsessing over that guy and it has got to stop. He's a self-righteous, egoistic scumbag that cares about nobody but himself." She looks me dead in the eye. We've had this conversation countless times over the years and I know she's right. But I just can't stop. And looking doesn't hurt anbody, right?

"Chill out, D, you're overreacting." I stand up from my chair and grab my bag and tray. "Come on, let's get going. I can't be late for another one of Mr. Williams classes or he'll kill me."

 --

Mr. Williams is my favourite teacher of all time. He teaches history, which I love, and I've never met a teacher that's so... in love with their subject. He can talk for hours, wich he often does, and he knows the answer to all your questions. He is also very strict so his lessons are always quiet. They are my safe place, the only time of the school day that I can really relax. And also Peter takes it, which is a bonus whenever he's actually here, and he is today. We're having a discussion about the consequences of World War I and I'm taking notes like crazy. We have a big test coming up and I always get good results, I want that to continue. My dad have always taught me that good things come to those who work their ass off and never give up and I trust him on that.

The bell rings, telling us that class is over. I'm packing up my things as I feel a soft peck on my shoulder. I spinn around and I can't believe what I see. Peter Jones stands before me with a big grin on his face. Golden blonde, kind of curly hair lies over his forehead, dimples popping out aswell as his exposed biceps at the sleeve of his black t-shirt. I don't know where to look but decide to look straight into his almost black eyes. 

"Hi." His dark voice speaks. He must be atleast four inches taller than me eventhough we're the same age. I'm very short and almost anyone is taller than me but this feels like standing infront of a giant.

"Hi." I answer, trying to act like it's no big deal that the guy I've been in love with since eight grade is finally talking to me. 

"I'm Peter." As if I didn't know, I think to myself.

"Jackie." We shake hands and his big, strong hand swallows my small, petite one. 

"That's a pretty name," Are you kidding me? It feels as if my whole body is blushing. "I was just about to ask if maybe I could copy your notes after school? It would really help me a lot..." He's still holding my hand and his thumb is rubbing small circles into the upside of it. I think I might pass out. 

"O-of course," I stutter. "Uhm, w-where should we meet?"

"Behind the bleachers at three thirty. Thank you, love." He lets go of my hand and walks out of the classroom leaving me completely frozen. Peter Jones just called me love and he's asking me to meet him behind the bleachers which is a known make out spot. Holy crap.

--

A.T. 

Thas was part one, please be patient it will only get better!