Hopelessly Devoted

Chapter 3- Bonding

*tap*

*tap*

*tap*

My pencil slowly raps against the smooth material of the lab table. The cold piece of stone feels like heaven in the boiling hot classroom, sending glorious waves of coldness through my veins. I've always loved these kinds of desks. They just feel better than normal wooden ones.

The desk serves another purpose today, however. Instead of being a welcome respite from unbearable heat leftover from the summer, today it's serving as a distraction. It's much easier to ignore the beautiful man beside me when I can just focus on the cool stone.

Still, I look at him. Sean just looks so good today. He's just wearing casual clothes, but everything looks 10x better when it's on the body of a Greek God.  He's wearing light blue jeans that perfectly accentuate his butt (not that I was staring at it in the hallway, and his shirt is a simple graphic tee that says "Assistant (to the) Regional Manager" in an obvious reference to The Office.

He's the most beautiful man I've ever seen and he's also got great taste in television. He truly is the perfect man.

Despite my seemingly obvious behavior, he doesn't seem to have noticed me staring at him. The oblivious boy was dutifully watching my dad, studiously copying notes every few seconds. I, on the other hand, had a very blank page in front of me. I just don't care about science. I'm good at it, I always get straight A's, the subject just doesn't really interest me.

Bored out of my mind, I decide to start drawing. I'm not a bad artist, and Jaqueline has taught me a ton about shading and depth and all that jazz. Sean's t-shirt put the office on my brain, so I just decided to draw a character. Putting pencil to paper, I start outlining the shape of Prison Mike's face. As my pencil slowly glides across the page, I'm able to slip into the recesses of my mind. Using my memory of Prison Mike's face, I'm able to put him neatly onto the page.

Just as I'm beginning to shade in the purple of Scott's bandana, I feel something nudge my shoulder. Looking to my left, I see Sean sliding me his notebook, mischief written all over his beautiful face. 

 Not bad, Rabbit. Although, I think you could add a little more crazy to his eyes.

I smile to myself and write a response.

How would one do that, exactly?

Sean shrugs in response.

Idk. Just a little more work and it'll come, I think.

It takes so much to not laugh at what he just wrote down. The boy has just walked into a trap. I look at him, utter disbelief on my face. When I'm just met with confusion, I just shake my head. Deciding to be bold, I point out his error.

That's what she said. ;)

Upon looking at the page, Sean snorts out a laugh, sending butterflies through my stomach. 

I made him laugh!!!

"Mr. Jackson! What is so funny, may I ask?" My dad's voice echoes across the room and about 30 heads look straight at us.

Crap.

"N-nothing, Sir." I can't help but feel bad for Sean. This is my fault. If I hadn't made him laugh, he wouldn't be in trouble.

"Are you sure? Let's see if you were paying attention, shall we? Can you tell me the definition of an Ionic Bond?"

Visibly nervous, Sean shuffles through the papers in his notebook. As he does so, I see that he obviously doesn't have the answer written down.