Promises, Promises

one. it should be illegal to be that hot

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

The large clock hung up on the wall above the doorway ticked slowly and quietly, though the girl swore she could feel it ticking like it was resonating within her chest. She tapped her pencil rhythmically, impatiently waiting for the clock's arm to move.

Five minutes left until the bell rang and she'd be free. They'd all be free.

Her hazel eyes stayed glued to the ticking electronic on the other side of the room as she drowned out the voice of her teacher up front. She didn't really care though; this was one of her easiest classes. Psychology always was. The girl was exhausted after a long, tiring and test-filled day of education.

Iris couldn't wait to go home and take some time to relax as well as munch on a snack.

Minutes passed, Iris stopped tapping her pencil just as the clock arm ticked a few more times to the right. Then the bell went off, signaling the end of the day and hundreds of students' happiness.

Iris smiled to herself, slamming her books shut and sloppily shoving them into her book bag, as well as sliding the pencil in the side of the bag. Then she headed out of the class, taking a deep breath of this "new found freedom" that she technically felt everyday once school ended.

She'd meet with Kayla, her best friend, by the front entrance of the school and then they'd be off. At lunch, they left off on a very important conversation: Why was Sebastian Stan so incredibly hot? Like, it's illegal to look that good. Or it should be.

Her mind was elsewhere that she hadn't realized she had nearly bumped into someone ahead of her, then continued walking forward as she didn't notice what she had almost done.

"Hey!" A voice shouted behind her.

A voice Iris was all too familiar with.

She groaned. So much for freedom. Iris slowly turned around, facing the boy who wore a grumpy look on his face. He had bags under his eyes which was what caught Iris' eye first, then his dull brown eyes that glared down at her. At least it was him and not the other one.

"Yes?" Iris asked in an exasperated tone.

"Are you not going to apologize?" The boy, Oliver Sullivan, her hated schoolmate who didn't understand compassion and how to be a decent human being, asked – more like demanded.

Iris scowled, glancing him up and down and taking in his 'bad boy' persona. The only bad thing about him was his devastatingly unlikeable personality, and his cheap looking leather jacket. Maybe they would've gotten along better if he wasn't a complete jerk. Her eyes met his brown ones that were still glaring at her with frustration.

"Hm..no I'm good, thanks for the offer though." She shook her head, flashed him a fake smile then spun on her heel to walk off.

But Oliver always hated back talk. Typical.

"Hey!" He reached out, placing his hand firmly on her shoulder and spinning her back around to face him. "I wasn't asking for the apology. Say you're sorry." Oliver really demanded this time.

Iris shrugged his hand off and then continued to glare up at the boy, "Do I really have to repeat myself? I said no. Maybe you deserved it, ever think that?" She retaliated.

The corners of Oliver's lips quirked up in amusement, "Oh, so now that no one's around, you suddenly have the courage to talk back to me?" He took a step towards her, "Guess what? That's the best part. So watch yourself–"