The Worst Choice

“Nash, wake up,” I whispered in his ear, shaking him lightly. He had slept through the entire hour of lunch.

Nash stirred a little, before lifting his head and looking around sleepily. “Lunch is over?” he asked in a tired voice, watching as students left the cafeteria.

“Yeah, it is,” I said, standing up.

He rubbed his eyes. “Fuck,” he mumbled. He looked up at me with apologetic eyes. “I’m sorry I spend whatever time we have together sleeping.”

I smiled lightly at him, before tugging his hand for him to stand up. “It’s fine, I get it,” I said.

He shook his head, pulling his book bag over one shoulder and then walking with me out of the cafeteria. “It’s not, it makes me feel like a shitty boyfriend,” he said.

“You’re not a shitty boyfriend, Nash,” I told him. “You’re just tired. Like I said, I get it. You work a lot now.”

“No. Look, how about we do something this weekend?” he suggested.

I gave him a confused look. “Like what?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I don’t know, go out or something?” he asked.

My heart jumped at the idea, but I had to decline. “You need your money; I don’t want you to spend it on me.”

He sighed. “Fuck those Russian guys,” he said. “I wanna do something for you. I don’t want my whole life revolving around them.”

I smiled at him, pulling him into an abandoned hallway, leaning against the wall. He stepped closer to me, his arms on my waist and almost no space between us. I noticed a silver chain around his neck, leading under his shirt. I pulled it from underneath his shirt. It was a silver chain with a silver cross hanging off of it. “What’s this?” I asked, examining it in my hand. I’d never seen it before, and I never pegged Nash as the jewelry type.

He shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. “I found it on the floor in my room,” he explained, sounding a little shy. “It was my mom’s and I didn’t know where else to put it so it’d be safe.” I smiled at him as he bit his lip, his newly tanned cheeks turning slightly pink. “I mean, it’s kinda girly and all, but-“

“It’s not girly,” I said, putting it back underneath his shirt then resting my hands on his neck. “About this weekend… Friday night Jeremy and my mom are going out; some kind of anniversary of when they started dating or something. I’m babysitting Alex and Aurora, but they should be in bed by ten. You could come over, if you want.”

The corner of his mouth turned slightly upward. “Of course I want,” he said, before leaning down and pressing his lips against mine.

“That’s not allowed here, Mr. Carter.” I heard before I could even kiss back. We broke away and saw some teacher walking passed the hallway, not even looking at us.

“Every fucking time,” he muttered.

I smirked. “Everybody knows you,” I said. “It’s like I’m kissing a famous person. The Nash Carter! Like oh my god!”

Nash laughed. “Shut up,” he said. The bell rang. “Fuck, late again. You are such a bad influence on me.”

“I know, maybe we should stop seeing each other…” I trailed off.

“Fuck that.” He leaned in, pressing his lips hard against mine for a few seconds before pulling away. “See you after school.”

Nash.

“That’s pretty good.” I turned and saw the girl from chemistry. She was in study hall with me, too, but we didn’t talk. What was her name again?

I shrugged. “I guess,” I said, unsurely. I turned back to the picture. All it said was Fuck this school in graffiti-type letters. I didn’t see the big deal in it, but whatever. Art has always been easy for me.

She laughed, sitting next to me. “It really is. I mean, compared to my art skills it definitely is,” she said. She set a picture down on the table and I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“What the hell is that supposed to be?” There was a barn off to the side of the paper, grass at the bottom and clouds on the top of the paper. Then in the middle there was some sort of creature. It looked like a cross between a cow, a pig and a moose.

“It’s supposed to be a farm with a horse, you jerk,” she said, smiling.

I snorted. “It’s beautiful, really,” I said, sarcastically.

“Nash, Susie- what are we drawing today?” The art teacher, Mrs. Jennings said. Oh, right. Susie was her name. “Ah, um… great picture, Susie.”

“Yeah, right,” she said, laughing. “Nash already told me how terrible it was.”

“And Nash,” she paused, before sighing. “We’ve been over this a million times. Your art skills can be extraordinary, but foul words are not allowed.”

“So sorry, Mrs. J,” I said, smiling sweetly. “Won’t happen again.”

“So,” Susie started, once Mrs. Jennings walked away. “How do you do those letters like that?”