Brighter Places [🗸]

6. i have a resting bitch face

"Why are you so pissed?"

I'm smack in the middle of the last class of the day, eyes lazily resting on the whiteboard as I lean back in my seat, rocking ever so slightly.

It's Riya who asks this, eyebrows raised as she scopes my expression from the seat next to me.

My eyebrows scrunch together before I let my shoulders fall into a shrug. "I hadn't even realized," I reply, a hand cupping my chin as I try to relax my features from their usual state.

"Jason here just naturally looks like an asshole," Amir says, twirling a pen between his fingers, completely oblivious to the thirsty eyes watching his slow movements. "It's his natural state." A slight smirk.

The smirk alone most definitely causes half of the class' gaze to stay glued onto the model-esque dumbfuck, as he runs a hand through dark curls. I can't blame them, really.

It's a work period, and due to my irritatingly attractive best friend—not much work is actually getting done. I purse my lips, leaning further back in my seat, taking a glance at Amir. The most elegant slope of his nose, lips slightly pursed, olive skin glinting underneath the light. 

Amir Karim isn't unattractive. And in all honesty, I would've completely gone for the insanely attractive skyscraper if he wasn't asexual as fuck.

In fact, that was how we'd gotten close. My lips twitch at the memory. We'd been at a party, jam-packed with horny teenagers, everyone so close, and the music was too loud. Granted, I'd most likely had a bit too much to drink, and was easily flirting with Amir, hoping to get lucky.

He'd awkwardly chuckled the entire time.

It should've clicked within the first five minutes of my 16-year-old self miserably failing to catch his attention. Not only that, but he'd never dated anyone and didn't seem to plan on doing that soon.

I let out a low chuckle at the memory, glancing over at Amir who's already meeting my gaze with an amused one of his own, the memory most likely spinning through his mind as well. He'd come out to me the morning after, and I'd essentially spent the rest of the week moping over the fact that I'd been pining after an ace guy the entire time.

It took a whole five minutes to get over it, and then to shudder at the thought that I'd actually liked Amir in that way. Because Amir is Amir. Low laughs, calm demeanor, mind always spinning. The guy I've always argued with about math problems that he was right about, who I'd shoved whenever a stupid joke was made.

Right next to Dani—who I've known since I could walk—Amir is my platonic soulmate, and I'd never want to have it any other way.

Not that I'm telling Karim that, though. In response to his questioning gaze, I crunch a piece of notebook paper into a small ball, flicking it at his forehead.

He flips me off in response.

Class finally comes to an end, Amir, Riya and I packing up our shit before swinging backpacks over our shoulders and making our way out of the front door and spilling into the hallway with the rest of the insane crowd of students, Dani falling into step with us, her arms linking into Riya and Amir's with ease.