Denial.

Waking up Monday morning to a cool breeze breaking through my cocoon isn’t exactly the way I wish to wake-up, but it does. Groaning, I toss piles of blankets over my head, curling up in them, but that wind still manages to break through this magnificent barrier of mine.

I scowl and sit up in bed, knowing full well I look like an angry grizzly bear with a scowl and hair that is sticking up in ways that can’t possibly be gravitationally possible. The digital clock at my bedside reads 5:12 A.M. and I snarl, because once I’m up I can’t go back to sleep. It’s a curse I’ve lived with since child hood. Stupid fucking window, I knew I should have shut it before I went to sleep last night.

After blocking out the morning wind I contemplate lying back down and simply resting my eyes, which are still crusted over with sleep. But I remember what today is, or rather the opportunity that I will have today and my feet, which were once idle, are now carrying me around the room looking for the best I own.

I feel like such a woman, digging through clothes, holding them against my nostrils and inhaling to find that some should be thrown into a ‘hazardous’ pile because damn, they smell like shit. I realize this morning I need to do laundry, but thankfully I find a set of good matching clothes.

And I know, I really shouldn’t be doing this. There’s no use, because what I want will never happen. And at the same time what I want shouldn’t happen, but I do it anyways because a part of me really wants to.

In the bathroom I take my daily shower, scrubbing my hair and wiping myself down before stepping out. The mirrors are fogged with steam that I wipe away with a flick of my hand and I stare at my reflection, quickly deciding that yes, I’ll do my hair today because I want to impress.

Straightening the bangs and sides, I go to the back to tease it and spike it up slightly. I dub myself ‘acceptable’ and go to throw on the clothes I found through the many towers of clothing within my room.

It ends up being my tightest skinny jeans with a few rips, a black I See Stars shirt, and my classic worn out black converses. I toss on my favorite wrist bands that I have owned for years and I really should get rid of, but I cant’ find the heart to do so.

By the time I’m finished getting ready it’s time for breakfast, but I pass it up. Breakfast isn’t exactly my thing so I dart out the door, grabbing my board, slipping it beneath my feet, and I start my daily ride to school. It takes ten minutes to get there when on my board and when I arrive the guys are waiting for me at the lockers where I place my board inside, gently, because she’s my baby.

“Dillon!” Harry shouts happily, throwing an arm around my shoulder in greeting. “You’re looking unusually gay today.”

I roll my eyes not because I take that as an insult, but because its true. I do look rather different today, normally I’ll just wear some baggy jeans and a Volcom tee, but there’s someone I want to show off to today. I push him away from me and smile.

Laughing, he tussles my hair, which I scowl at. It took me a while this morning to make it look this good and damn it I need to keep it this way! I‘m trying to impress here. “I’m just kidding, lookin’ good.”

Rolling my eyes, again, my attention goes from Harry to Zach and Clarissa a.k.a CC, another friend of ours, who are both arguing over some TV show. Why Zach watches girly drama shows, I’ll never know, but it’s a sick passion of his that I will never question.

And I am more than positive that I would have begun my own conversation with someone in our little posse, but all my attention is taken away the moment I hear her shrill voice calling, “Jordan, wait up!”

Every muscle within me stiffens, but I manage to turn around and see the one boy who made me this way. The boy who has me putting myself in denial in the first place. It’s all his fault and I should be angry, disgusted really to think this way about another boy, but I can’t find myself doing that. Even though all this trouble that’s happening within my brain is his fault, I can’t be angry with him and I can’t stop thinking about him because…just because.

As usual, his beautiful black hair is a mess atop his head, covering a set of brown eyes that could make any sane person weak at the knee’s. He wears jeans that hug his legs, showing off the muscles we all know he has, and a white shirt that should be illegal, because it’s showing off the rippling abs beneath. And I bite my lip to keep myself from moaning in frustration.

Jordan Gleeson really is the definition of perfection. He’s popular beyond belief because he’s the running back of our football team, and a hell of a good one I might add. But he’s really a nice guy. He isn’t cocky or stuck-up like half the others. He’s nice to everyone, really, and it’s respectable.

Sadly, I am torn from my day dreaming of us somehow being together and living happily ever after, because you know…that’s completely normal, by that little bitch Shelby. Head cheer leader, Paris Hilton wanna-be, latches herself ontomy Jordan in a quick hug.

If it were legal, I’d rip that bitches uterus out and shove it up her ass. The only reason she’s popular is because she’s hot, hey just because I have a crush on another guy doesn’t mean I can’t mess with the girls, but it is the truth. She’s hot, as in I rather just fuck you and then throw you away, hot. Her personality makes you want to rape babies though.

The bell rings, informing the students to hurry their asses up if they don’t want a detention and get to class. Sighing, I look away from Jordan and his beauty to go to first period where I wait patiently for gym class. For once, I actually want to go and when it’s finally time I bolt.

Friday we had a physical fitness test, but not everyone finished so today they are continuing. Those who did finish get to sit out, Jordan and I being the ones who get to sit out along with a few others. I bite my lip to keep my smile down, but the moment I enter the gym and see Jordan waiting patiently on the bleachers that plan shatters and I’m smiling like an idiot.

“Dillon,” my name rolls off his tongue perfectly and I know I probably look so stupid, so I flip my hair into my face in hopes he won’t notice. “Did you finish Friday, too?”

I forced myself to the limit to finish. “Yeah,” I reply with a shrug as if it’s nothing when really after gym class I could hardly move.

I take a seat next to him and lean back against the bleachers, picking away at my nails, which is a terrible habit I have when nervous. Jordan chuckles softly from beside me and smiles. Just seeing his smile makes my toes curl. “Awesome, I was hoping someone cool finished early so I wouldn’t have to be all alone.”

“Pfft, you know I wouldn’t let that happen,” I joke, elbowing him lightly in the side, which he returns. “I have to protect you from all the rapists in this class.” I gesture to Shelby, who has her sick eyes on Jordan, for emphasis.

Jordan, who shivers in disgust, scoots closer to me so that our arms are brushing. My skin tingles at the mere touch and I feel like such an obsessed high school girl because of it. But damn, can you blame me? It’s Jordan. “Yeah…I’m sorry Dillon, but if she comes anywhere near us I’m throwing you at her.”

“Hey!” I shout with wide horrified eyes. “She’ll eat me, and not in a good way!”

Jordan laughs and leans back just like I am. Sighing, he throws his arms behind his head and replies, “Yep and it’ll give me enough time to get away.”

Scoffing, I cross my arms childishly and whine. “Asshole.”

Jordan just smiles.