Bite My Tongue

Waking up was probably the hardest part of the day. The anxiety, the restlessness, the cluelessness about what was going to happen. The sinking feeling in my stomach as I lay in bed, awake an hour before my alarm went off. I was too lazy to get up, sometimes even delusional enough to believe that I could actually fall back to sleep. Instead, I spent my time watching the numbers on the clock, both dreading and anticipating when I had to drag my ass out of bed. Because then, maybe the worries would cease, maybe things would get better. But of course they didn't.

So actually, the entire day was the hardest part of the day.

After pulling on a pair of jeans and a random faded t-shirt, I stumbled downstairs to the kitchen. I found piece of toast sitting on the table, and took a bite out of it as I walked over to put my shoes on. The bread was cold, meaning my mum must've left early for work. Not that it was anything new. More hours meant more money. It also meant more stress, which I was usually on the receiving end of.

I heard a car horn blast in the driveway, and hurriedly laced up my Vans. Once I'd checked to make sure that the two ends of the neatly knotted bows were equal in length, I hoisted my backpack onto my shoulder and pushed open the front door. I saw Matt's car waiting in the driveway, and I hastily locked the door behind me.

It must've rained overnight, because the driveway was covered in puddles. Of course, I'd failed to realize that before stepping in one, so my shoes were soaked. I shuddered at the weird feeling that was having wet socks. Groaning, I pulled open the door to the passenger side. Except the faux leather seat that I usually occupied was already taken.

"Um..." I trailed off, feeling the heat rising to my face.

A slender brunette sat with her legs crossed, staring at me with wide eyes. I was pretty shocked to say the least, considering that the only girl that had ever been in Matt's car before was his mum.

"Josh, this is Chloe," Matt said, a dopey grin on his face. "My girlfriend."

My thoughts screeched to a halt. Since when did Matt have a girlfriend? I'd thought maybe she was his neighbor or something, since the thought that somebody actually found that dork attractive was kind of shocking to me. Although, I guess Chloe had been the girl that he'd been talking about the past few days. It must've slipped my mind, along with all the other conversations that I hadn't been included in.

Chloe gave me a little wave with her dainty hand, and I forced a smile before slamming the door closed, probably harder than I should have. I yanked open the back door and hopped inside the car, sitting amidst Matt's discarded Coke bottles.

Tossed in the back like a piece of trash. Wonderful.

Matt and Chloe made small talk, which of course I was left out of. It probably wasn't a bad thing though, because if I'd talked I'd would've screwed something up and made Chloe hate me. And if Chloe hated me, then Matt would also hate me. Even more than he already did.

By the time Matt had done a shitty parking job in the sophomore spaces that were the farthest ones from the school, I was dying to get out of the car. There was something weird going on between them, and if that was what romance was then I wanted no part of it. I hurried through the parking lot and to the doors, quickly blending in with the mob of students going to their lockers. Matt was nowhere to be seen, and honestly that was alright with me.

Not that it didn't hurt.

I made a quick stop at my locker, but once I was done I had too much free time before my next class. I didn't exactly love the idea of sitting at my desk like a loser, so I decided to take a seat in one of the hallways where there weren't any lockers. Yeah, I probably still looked like a loser. But at least I wouldn't get called a teacher's pet.

I figured that since I was going to be doing it all by myself, I might as well get a start on the history project. The textbook was huge, and I hated lugging it around. I hoped that it had some easily copy-able information, because I wasn't about to waste too much time on this. Then again, if I had to do some extra work, it'd be worth it if only to keep my grades in their symmetrically A status.

As I fumbled in my backpack for a pencil, I noticed that someone else was sitting on the other side of the mostly empty hallway. It was sort of weird, considering that the guy was just sitting there writing in a plain green notebook. In the hall. All alone.

Not to mention that the person happened to be the "I don't do work" Oliver.

He didn't seem to have noticed me, so I continued to gawk at him like a creep. His head was tilted down so that he could read, and his black hair fell over his eyes. He pushed it to the side, chewing on the top of his pen as if he was deep in thought. Which was weird, because I didn't think the guy had ever done work in his life. Yet as I watched, he didn't reveal a phone hidden in his notebook or anything of the sort. Instead, he continued to write. What he was writing, I had no idea. Maybe it was a list of people that he wanted to kill-- I wouldn't have put it past him.

I became mesmerized by the way that his hand flew across the page. It had a graceful speed about it, and I wondered what he was writing. Because I was pretty sure it wasn't notes for our project. The history textbook that I'd taken out lay resting on my lap, as I was too distracted to attempt to read it. I was fascinated with the intense look in Oliver's eyes, the way that they stayed focused on the paper, a diligence and depth that I'd never noticed before.

I wanted to know what he was writing. I wanted to know what made him stop being the loud twat that he was, if only for these few minutes, just so that he could jot those few words down.

I could go talk to him. He was right there, only a few footsteps away. But...no, he wouldn't want me to interrupt him. And then I'd have to admit that I was staring at him, and oh god, that would never work, I should just here, against this wall, let him do his thing...

The first bell rang, its monotone beep coming from a speaker directly above my head. I had to get to class. Oh great, first period with Matt and Chloe. Joy.

I glanced up to where Oliver had been sitting. He was stuffing the notebook into his backpack, haphazardly zipping it and standing up. I quickly turned away, not wanting him to see me. I started to walk in the direction of my first class, nervousness rising in my throat. As I reached the corner, I glanced back over my shoulder.

But Oliver was gone.