If Looks Could Kill, I'd Be Dead

Theta

“Theta, wake up! Theta?” Sascha is gently shaking my shoulders. I roll away from him and groan.

“Sascha!” He continues to shake me. “Unh…” I bury my face into the pillow.

“C’mon Theta, School is in an hour!” He pulls me up into a sitting position.

“Sascha, how are you a morning person? I don’t even understand.” I open my eyes to see his grinning face.

“I don’t know.” He says. “How are you night person?” I just shrug. “No matter how hard I try, I’m always the first one asleep with you.” He playfully glares at me, and then giggles. God, he’s so adorable. I laugh along with him.

“Oh, Sasch…” I smile. “You’re lucky I didn’t draw on your pretty little face with a sharpie! You were asleep long before I was…” I tease.

“Gah, what time did I fall asleep?” he asks, smacking his forehead.

“Eh, I think it was somewhere around nine thirty.” I say with a smirk.

“Was it really?” he groans.

“Sasch, it isn’t a big deal.” I laugh.

“Well, my little insomniac...” He pulls me into his arms and we fall back onto the pillows. “What time did you end up going to sleep?”

“Uh, I think it was about one AM. Not terribly late.” I stretch out my arms and legs, still trying to wake myself up a bit more.

“One AM?! Geez, babe. I don’t know how you do it.” He laughs. I hear a knock at the door, and we both turn to see my mother opening the door.

“I heard giggling! I made you both waffles for the first day of your senior year!” she says cheerfully.

“Waffles?!” my eyes grow wide. I always make my own breakfast, usually toast, cereal, a bagel, or the like. Mom doesn’t usually cook in the morning, so this is a treat.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou, Mrs. Fujiyoka!” Sascha jumps off of the bed and gives my mom a big bear hug. My mother is shorter than I; she’s five feet tall. Sascha towers over her. She laughs, and says,

“You’re welcome, Sascha.” She pats him on the back in a halfhearted hug and he releases her. My parents were never really physical or affectionate like Sascha is.

“We’ll be down in a bit, mom.” I tell her.

“Alright, honey.” She closes the door and walks down the stairs.

The only reason my parents even let Sascha in my room is because he isn’t… interested in me. I mean, it’s not like I have guys lining up at my front door that want to deflower me. God, no. It’s just that my father is very… protective. Apparently, all humans possessing male genitalia are a threat to my virginity. I’m terribly convinced that the only guy that he trusts is Sascha. My dad was completely against having Sascha sleep over, at first. The first time we tried to have a sleepover, my parents mistook it as a ploy to lose our virginities. Little did they, or I, know that he just wasn’t attracted to me. Even though Sascha and I have been friends since we were toddlers and my parents know him and love him like their own child, they just didn’t care how close we were; they didn’t want a boy sleeping in the house, much less my room, period. After Sascha came out, my parents and I had a little talk. That changed everything. In their mind, Sascha was practically a girl. They let us do everything together. Sascha really was my best friend; gender was no longer an issue because he wasn’t after popping my cherry.

I go over to my closet and open it up. I look for the perfect first-day-of-school-outfit. After a minute of rummaging around, I finally just throw on my “I heart British Accents” t shirt and a pair or shorts. I turn around to get changed. I hear Sascha getting changed behind my back; the rustling of clothing, the zipping and unzipping of pants.

I can’t help myself. I turn around and sneak a peek at his defined back muscles. He pulls up his pants. His arm and shoulder muscles contract and stretch as he lifts the shirt over his head. I quickly turn around and clasp my bra behind my back before he sees me gawking. Even though I’m completely over my feelings I used to have for him, I still appreciate his body… er, beauty. I slip on my shirt and shimmy into my shorts. I shake my head.

You need to stop checking out Sascha. I scold myself.

I pull out my hair from under my necklace. Sascha and I bought this set of necklaces a few years ago. One of them is a locket with a human heart etched onto it and the other is a rustic key pendant. I wear the key and Sascha wears the locket.

This time, when I look at him, he’s fully dressed, unfortunately. I go over to him and wrap my arms around his slender waist. He returns the hug, enveloping me in his arms. I run my hands over those back muscles I was gazing at just seconds ago. After a moment, I reluctantly let go of him.

“C’mon, let’s go eat some waffles.” I say, taking his hand and leading him downstairs.

xxx

Sascha and I, having compared schedules earlier in the summer, found out that we have three classes together. Three classes out of nine are a lot, actually, but not as much as I hoped we’d have. Last year, Sascha and I only had one class together, aside from lunch. First period, I have advanced painting. Sascha didn’t take that class because he couldn’t fit it into his schedule. He’s a theater geek, so he takes drama classes and such each year. Sascha is a thespian, while I fill up my electives with art classes. He wants to be an actor.

When I walk into the classroom, I pick an empty easel in the back. There are a bunch of “popular kids” in this class. It’s unfortunate, because I really don’t associate myself with the preppy crowd full of jocks and partiers. That’s just not my thing. The rest of the class is a few “emo” kids, and a couple of people like me, who hate labels. I don’t care about social status or any of that. I mean, I’m content hanging out with Sascha every day of my life. I only have a few friends, other than him.

A second before the bell, a guy walks in. I haven’t seen him before. This is the suburbs; almost everyone knows almost everyone, so I'm a bit curious. The first thing that I notice about him is that he has a lot of piercings. He’s wearing a plaid, colourful hoodie along with skinny jeans and a pair of Osiris. He has brown hair with blonde mixed into it, the fringe framing his face. He’s tall, perhaps taller than Sascha, and quite skinny, although not as thin as Sascha is.

He takes a look around. A few people glance at him, and a few girls look away, wide eyed and start to talk to their friends. I roll my eyes. He is a pretty boy, I must admit. He’s very handsome…

He spots me, and stares. He smiles and then comes up to the easel next to mine. … What? He sits down on the stool. The good looking stranger looks me in the eye, his greenish blue eyes boring into my own brown ones and says,

“So yeh like Bri’ish accents, do yeh?” Oh my God. I look down at my shirt.

“Uh…” I blush and look away, embarrassed. This guy is English?! Hot damn! Why, oh why, did I wear this shirt today?

He laughs and it’s the kind of laugh that rumbles from your stomach. His voice is rather deep, and a little bit scratchy. I like the sound of it straightaway.

“That’s pretty funny if yeh ask me.” He says with a smile. “It’s cute.” God, he even has a tongue ring! Swoon.

“Oh, uh… thank you?” I don’t even know what to say. His good looks are rendering me speechless.

“Mhm.” He nods, still looking at me.

“Oh, wellum... my name is Theta Fujiyoka.” I reach over to shake his hand. Touch the British hottie? What the hell am I doing?

He takes my hand, his large hand covering my smaller hand and shakes it, saying, “Meh name is Loren Kerr.”

“Nice to meet you.” I say, letting go of his warm hand sooner than I’d have liked.

“So… Theta.” The way he says my name, it just rolls of his tongue. He emphasizes the "t", pronouncing it Thay tah instead of Thay dah. I love it. The way he says it with his British accent. “Theta as in... the trigonometry term?”

“Yeah…” I laugh a little. “My parents were, uh, kind of math nerds.” He shakes his head and smiles, laughing lightly. He wasn’t laughing in a mean or rude fashion. He was just... laughing.

And then, the teacher starts to talk, the class beginning. I sit on my stool, a flush still on my neck and cheeks. I’m glad that Loren decided to sit next to me today. It could have been anyone in the room, but it was me. I’m so happy that I wore this shirt today. I really do love British accents... especially Loren’s.