𝟹𝟸| 𝙻𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚘𝚛

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Languor (noun)

- emotional softness or tenderness.


~*~


It was days like this when I felt like a walking paradox. Everything inside of me was a mixture of happiness and bitterness. The beaming expressions of the students I crossed made me content. I attempted my best to smile back at them but it was most reasonably a grimace at best. I endeavoured a grin on the whole way to my locker and to the cafeteria, my ankle boots snapping and my mascara surfaced lashes feeling heavy.


My happiness was forced but I had to do it, I needed to be happy because we subsequently fulfilled what I'd been too frightened to do since forever - the clique rule was no more. The closer I got to the cafeteria the more authentic my smile felt. It seemed like the wistfulness was being ousted away.


But as I entered the cafeteria, a surge of melancholy beat me once again, yet at the same time - so did joy. I gawked around at the various tables which held students from diverse cliques. There were some theatre geeks assembling with the soccer team and I had a feeling it was because of the girl that had a crush on Christian.


The cheer squad table looked more-or-less the same. Bella was sitting with some members of the art club whereas Tammy sat at the Nerd table with Mattia and a very annoyed looking Jillian. Mattia tossed me an eerie look and I shuddered. The only two at the cheer table were Astrid and Maya, seemingly because they were the two most intimidating people on the squad. 


However, as I glanced around the tumultuous cafeteria, my eyes locked with Liam Finnegan's. He sat at our usual table, accompanied by Sabrina. The sight confused me because Nolan was frequently fastened to her hip but my best friend appeared to be sitting with his team. Liam sat with his arms crossed over his t-shirt clad chest and looking right at me as if he was anticipating for me to enter.


Various sensations simmered in my stomach so abruptly that I scarcely had time to pinpoint them all. Rage, yearning and some other shit. My conversation with Nolan developed in my mind and I forced it away, not wanting to force myself into speaking to Liam. 


His hair was an outright mess and not the messily attractive kind, no, it was unkempt at its worst. I refused to look at his face and directed my head away, recognising the sad look Sabrina flung me. My hands felt clammy and I brushed it on my jeans before wandering forward, right past Liam and depositing my ass in a seat at the cheer table.


Astrid looked up from her salad, her onyx eyes perforating into the side of my head as I attempted my best to shield my face from Liam's gaze with my hair. 


"Hey, girl," she acknowledged, handling her fork to pop a piece of cucumber into her mouth. She chewed noisily and I concentrated on the crunching sound, demanding it to drown out the accelerated thrum of my heart the longer Liam gazed at me. 


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