The Boy who Broke the Rules

2

Watching a horror movie and thinking: "No, don't kill him! He's hot!" -Tumblr 

***

"Okay, Parker, so which category is he?" Ruth whispered under her breath.

We were in English class, sitting in one of the coveted seats at the back of the class.

The AC broke a week ago and, despite the number of promises they told us that they'd fix it, they hadn't. The smell of warm, sweaty bodies and various colognes and perfumes permeated the air.

I sneezed. "He's not in any of the categories."

When it comes to guys who went past 8 of the hotness scale, Ruth and I had created three categories: the I-will-have-your-babies guy, the that's-what-she-said guy, and the no-one-understands-me guy.

The I-will-have-your-babies guy was the best according to Ruth. Gorgeous or had a lot of sex appeal, charming, polite, athletic and/or smart, funny was optional. They were usually popular and dated the popular girls.

The that's-what-she-said guy was kind of like the first category, except that they were party animals and mostly addicted to sex, and sometimes dumb. You know, kind of like a peanut shell without the nut inside.

Except that they look really pretty.

 The no-one-understands-me guy were the hot nerds, artists, painters, musicians and Emos. They walked the school hallways with an unsmiling face, an air of do-not-fυck-with-me or else. They were my favourite category.

Ruth's eyes widened in shock, her mouth formed into an O.

"He's not in any of the category, Ruth," I repeated.

She blinked once, twice, again.

"You're kidding."

I shook my head no. "Nuh-uh."

"As long as they passed 8 in the hotness scale, guys always fall in one or two of the categories. It is not possible in this lifetime, just not possible, to have a guy who doesn't fall in any of them."

"I'm telling you, Ruth, he is his own category."

"You might as well tell me unicorns exist. I don't believe you."

"I froze, Ruth. I froze. This guy—"

"Please do tell us what you're whispering about, Miss Parker Gottlieb, that's more interesting than what I am discussing in class at this moment."

Oh God.

He knows my full name.

I didn't mind attention, but I hatedit if it meant I was in trouble. I hated it like Professor Snape hated the sight of shampoo.

Mr. Layton raised his eyebrow, waiting for my answer. I gulped.

"Um... "

Heads turned, eyeing us curiously and with no little sympathy. Professor Layton was one of the teachers who delighted in embarrassing students.  

"Well?"

"We were... we were talking about..."

I sensed Ruth squirming beside me and I knew she was just itching to answer him. Grabbing her hand, I squeezed it to stop her. She could be crazy and hated authority, and whatever response she was going to say was going to guarantee us detention.

"Yes?"

"Professor?"

I froze. That voice. That deep and smooth and familiar voice. I had stayed up late last night replaying it over and over in my head.

Slowly and apprehensively, I held my breath as I lifted my eyes. And stared directly in his.

He was staring back at me.

Dropping my gaze, I felt my heart pound. I started hyperventilating.

I didn't imagine him. 

"Ruth," I murmured breathlessly, "tell me, do you believe unicorns exist?"

There was a moment of silence before she answered.

"I'm buying one after class."