Damn, I Hate You

He met me after seventh period, sort of to my surprise. I thought he'd be rude and make me wait about at least five minutes. I always see him surrounded by friends. Wow, he ditched them to do a project with me. Maybe he doesn't hate me?

"So how much are we going to work on this?" he asked.

"Uh, I dunno. Maybe an hour? Depends. We have to have at least one rough draft by tomorrow." I said as we started walking out of the school and towards my house. Wow, he's actually going to my house! If only it weren't just for homework.

"Ok." He said and pulled out his phone.

"You got plans?" I asked politly. Figures that he'd be in a hurry on a Monday night. I wish I were popular sometimes.

"No, but I have to text my dad why I won't be home." he replied. We continued walking towards my house in silence. What was I supposed to talk to him about? We really did have nothing in common.

"Right here." I steered him as we finally approached my house. Thank god my little brother had tutoring after school. It'll be nice and quiet and only two of us.

"Wow, your house is so... clean." he said when he walked in.

"My mom's insane about cleaning. You know how they get." I tried making conversation. Nothing better than complaining about moms to break the ice.

"Uh, I guess. I dunno, my dad and I have never really cared much about tidiness." he said, looking down.

"My mom would flip if we weren't perfect every damn second." I rolled my eyes.

"I bet mine would to if she were around." he commented quietly. Shit! He doesn't have a mom?! And here I am complaining about mine? Fuck, what's wrong with me?

"Oh my god, I'm sorry!" I said, trying to save face.

"Oh, no, don't trip. I never really knew her. Haha, you act as if you insulted me. Dude, everyone has moms. It's no big deal." he said, giving me a genuine smile. Wow, I don't think I've ever seen a real smile on him. They're usually so... hateful or just a smirk as he laughed at his own smart ass comments. He's got a cute smile.

"So you want something to drink before we start to work?" I offered.

"Uh, sure. Whatever you have, I guess." he said. He was careful not to track mud on the tile as he crossed the kitchen and went to sit at the table. He set his stuff down in front of him and sat down. He flipped his head back and rubbed his face in his hands.

"You ok?" I asked as I set a coke in front of him.

"Just tired. Someone decided to argue with me instead of let me sleep in fifth period." He stared at me accusingly as he said this. I guess my face looked worried because a second later, he was appologizing. "I was just kidding!" and there was his brilliant smile once more. "God, you gotta learn to chill, honey."

"I find honey a very sexist term for you to be using." I joked.

"Well aren't we a cute little femenist." He said and swept his backpack off the table. The normal rude self of him was starting to come out again. I think I like this polite side, though. He turned to face me. "So what do you want to write about?" His dark eyes bore into me as he sat there.

"I dunno. What were you thinking?" I asked.

"Hmmm... Well, we could talk about how a man slowly plunges into insanity. It starts with the demon within starting to stir, then he starts acting up and cutting, or doing drugs or something, then he tries to quit and kill the monster he thinks he's become, and finally he commits suicide." he sat back, obviously pulling this idea out of his ass.

"Sounds a bit... macabre." I remarked.

"Well, hello, ever read Edgar Allan Poe? Poetry's not all Shakespearean love shit." He said. So true! God, he's one of those dark geniuses.

"So you really want to write about that?" I asked.

"If you're cool with it, I can do it in a snap." he said.

"You mean, we." I corrected.

"If you insist, madam." He mocked me. He leaned his head against the table. "You wanna do the intro or you want me to?" he asked.

"Uh, I'll try, and you can critique it as I go." I suggested.

"Whatever." He said and cradled his head in his arms against the table. I looked at him as his eyes closed.

"What happened there?" I poked at a huge bruise on his forearm with the eraser of my pencil. He eyes looked hurt, but he didn't let the rest of his face react to the sudden contact on the clearly fresh wound.

"Oh, that? I ran into a wall last night 'cause I had the light off in my room and had to get up to go to the bathroom." He said.

"What a clutz." I commented, giggling slightly.

"Eh, shut up and work." he said and went back to his resting position. But how can I concentrate with you right next to me?