Accidental Love

That Day

You ever wake up in the morning and in your mind you think “Fuck, I have to do this all over again,” cause I do.

Approximately 180 days a year people from the age 4 to 18 get up and attempt to get an education. Which by the time you get out of primary school is a never ending cycle of the same bullshit and teachers constantly reminding you that shit won’t slide in the grade above. They’re always wrong.

As a teen life is either perfect, fine, horrible or just going. For me, it’s just going. I can’t complain about anything because it’s not like I had a really shitty childhood. My parents are serene when it comes to me. Weird thing is the fact they’ve been divorced for about 6 years and gladly live together as if they weren’t. I know it’s not for me because technically my dad has full custody of me, which is also odd because usually custody goes to the mother, yet I don’t know or care how they worked that one out. Anyways, life is life and it keeps going with or without you. I learned that watching shit on HBO at 11 years old.

So today, just like all the others before, I caught the bus to school. I tried to sleep but of course engineers don’t know how to build a bus that doesn’t shake your head like a maraca. So I blast music in my ears because even though it’s 7 in the morning people love to discuss life as if the people they’re talking to didn’t hear it all the night before. In the middle of Green Day’s “Boulevard of Broken Dreams” someone taps me on my shoulder. I turn my head already irritated because I now have to socialize so I don’t have to socialize more. But when I look up I see some boy I didn’t recognize and instead of shooing him like I planned to do I just scooted over and let him sit. He sat and immediately put his headphones in. I looked at him trying to see if I did know him, after a while I noticed I wasn’t just looking I was probably staring like a mentally insane weirdo who still listens to early 2000s punk.

“Yes, I’m new. No these aren’t contacts. And you can’t have my phone number,” the strange boy said with his earbuds still in.
“What?” He totally noticed me trying to dissect him mentally.

“I’m sorry, umm, I don’t want your number.” He finally looked at me and smirked.

“But you might.”

“I don’t and won’t,” I snapped. He then handed me a mini sticky note with his number on it. I looked at him, he was still holding that oddly beautiful and mischievous smirk.

“Text me now,” his voice sounded bland but serious. I followed his command only because I wanted to know why he would give me his number if he just said I couldn’t have it. His phone vibrated. He looked at it and smiled. “Thanks paloma.”
“Wha-” I stopped myself because I honestly didn’t want to keep talking to him. The short rest of the ride was odd. I kept wanting to look at the grey-eyed mystery boy. Once we arrived at the raggedy school, I got anxious to get off the bus but Grey Eyes let everyone else off before he got up. When I was finally free the the torture of old bus and brown seats I rushed to my locker then to class so I could avoid talking to people even more. The minute I walked in my favorite love-hate teacher sighed.

“Miss Hestia Oliver, how unpleasant to see you,” Mr. Li said.

“Ah, still hate me Yao?”

“That’s Mr. Li to you young lady. Please and thank you.”

“Damn, I was starting to think after all this time of friendship we’d be going on a first name basis. But do you have an almond granola bar, Mr. Li?”

“Hestia, as much as I’d like to say we’re friends I dislike you,” he smiled. “Here’s your very nutritious breakfast.” I took the bar, opened the wrapper and took a bite.