My life as a loser in High School.

I was not looking forward to today. After yesterday’s embarrassment, the last thing I wanted was to sit next to Dylan for a full hour. I was horrified; he acted like he wanted to kiss me and I responded like I wanted to kiss him back which obviously made it clear to him that I kinder sorter maybe liked him which I so did not.

As I walked into the classroom, loud noise hit me which let me know that either my teacher had a hangover and didn’t feel like teaching or we had a cover. The latter was right. Everyone was talking, listening to music or sleeping.

I glanced to my usual desk and then to Dylan who unfortunately hadn’t died in the last 15 hours. He looked different. I quickly realised he had his hair cut, the long dark locks he used to have were now shorter and sticking up. I frowned in annoyance. I couldn’t even say he had hair like a girl now, unless, you know, I was comparing him to a girl with boy hair.

I sat down, not even looking at him. I could feel his gaze on my face for a moment before he opened his mouth. “Hi, Brie.”

“Don’t talk to me.” I said, grabbing a pen out of my bag and flicking through our book. Wow, we had moved on from Shakespeare and were now doing poetry.

“Why?” He can’t seriously be asking that question?

“Because,” I said, looking at him. “I’m ignoring you.” Damn, I could actually see both of his eyes now.

“Well, you’re not doing a very good job.” He pointed out. I sighed and gritted my teeth, determined I wasn’t going to respond. He looked at me for a few seconds before turning around again. I let go of the breath I was holding and started flicking though my poetry book.

I’m starting to like this Carol Ann Duffy person. She wrote poems about woman killing men and I was starting to relate big time. I especially liked “Salome”. I would very much like to cut Dylan’s head off and stick it on a platter. But I didn’t want to sleep with him first.

Suddenly I felt a warm hand on my knee. I jerked and glanced at the only person it could belong to; Dylan. He was flicking through his own book, not paying any attention to me. I decided I wasn’t going to say anything. I could prove to him that I could ignore him.

After about a minute he started drawing light circles with his fingers, encircling my kneecaps. It was a good job I had decided to wear jeans today or I wouldn’t be able to hold out as good as I was. I moved my leg slightly to see if I could shake him off but his hand clutched onto me.

I looked at him again although this time it was more like a glare. He was still staring at his book; however, I could see the small hint of a smirk forming on his lips. His fingers slowly moved their way up my leg, still making smoothing patterns.

I fidgeted helplessly; a part of me wanted to slap Dylan and accuse him of touching me inappropriately but another part of me- and this was a really small part- wanted him to carry on. I couldn’t deny the mushy feelings that were erupting in my stomach- I hated that I liked them so much.

His grip was at the top of my thigh now. I slowly reached under the table and put my hand on top of his. The look on his face told me he wasn’t expecting that. We were still ignoring each other. A smug feeling came over me; all those hours spent filing my nails and making sure they looked good were finally going to pay off.

I pinched the top of his hand as hard as I could. He yelped and pulled away hitting his hand on the table at the same time. I smiled sweetly at him and he glared at me before pinching my leg. It didn’t hurt however I squealed at the sudden contact. With my fist balled up, I hit him as hard as I could (which wasn’t very hard) in his chest.

He laughed at my pathetic attempt and I scowled, slipping my hands back under the table to pinch his own legs. He chuckled whilst grabbing me to stop me doing some serious damage to his precious thighs.

“What’s going on?” The cover teacher was on her feet and staring at us with curiosity. My cheeks darkened as I realised every one had stopped what they were doing a while ago to watch us. To any outsider it would look like we were flirting, which we so weren’t.

“Brie just can’t keep her hands off me.” Dylan answered grinning. I opened my mouth to protest when I figured out what it must look like. Both my hands were under the table reaching over to the top of Dylan’s legs which were near his, erm, manly parts. He was using both of is hands to restrain me. All complaints of Dylan molesting me were flying out the window because it looked the complete opposite now.

I snatched my hands away and focused on my book once again. My long blonde hair was falling over my face, hiding my blushing cheeks. The whole class was laughing at us- or rather me. Someone appeared at my side. I looked up to see Kate glaring down at me and looking furious.

“Don’t touch my boyfriend.” She said firmly, narrowing her eyes at me.

“I wasn’t touching him. I was trying to cause him pain.” I muttered back. Dylan burst out laughing once again and I swung the back of my hand into his chest, knocking the breath out of him.

“Well, don’t do that either.” She threatened. Her lip ring glinted looking like she was drooling out the side of her mouth. That made me feel a little better. But still Dylan had humiliated me over and over again.

I shot a quick look at him and found that the expression in his eyes was unreadable. However there was no mistaking the smug grin that was plastered across his face.

Feeling every ones eyes on me (especially one particular pair of green ones), I hurriedly grabbed my stuff and left the room.