How Could I Make This More Poetic?

I walked into my room and Jeff already had the contents of his backpack sprawled out in the middle of my floor and he was spinning around in my computer chair.

“What are you doing?” I asked, not really sure if I wanted an answer.

“Took you long enough to get here. You walk like an old man,” he laughed.

“Stop it with the male jokes!” I shouted. “I'm tired of this! We have to work together, the least you can do is just spend the time that you are in this house, not making fun of my name, please” the ‘please’ came out a lot less strong than the rest of my rant.

“Fine, now which president are we doing? I’ll let you pick.” Here comes the unexplained sweetness again.

“I was thinking Johnson. That way we can talk about how his economic policies helped get the country out of a lot of its poverty and then the decisions in Vietnam ruined everything for him.”

“I can work with that. It will be easy.” Easy? Since when did he start paying attention in school again? He was always goofing off, not that me and my friends didn’t because I’ve been in trouble plenty of times for falling asleep in class and refuse to do homework.

I walked over to my bookshelf and grabbed my history textbook off the shelf and went to the middle of my floor and sat down Indian style.

“Why are you sitting on the floor?” Jeff’s asked with his cocky attitude showing.

“Because my bed is on the other side of the room, you’re in my desk chair, and the floor is comfy,” I told him without looking up from where I was flipping the pages of the book to find where it started talking about the 1960s.

“Oh,” he asked with a somewhat disappointed face. “So…um,” he started.

“If it’s not about the project, don’t bother,” I sighed and threw the book in front of him on the front. The page was open to a large picture of LBJ and a long summary of things that he did. “Read that and tell me what you want to focus on. I’ll be right back. Don’t touch anything.” I stood up and walked out of the room.

~♥~ Jeff’s POV~♥~

She just threw the book and me and told me not to do anything. I don’t think that she is too fond of me anymore. I'm an idiot to think that things would change. She honestly couldn’t get a conversation to go through with me anymore. The sad thing was that I don’t think that I would mind talking to her.

I picked up the book and placed it on the desk so that I could read it. Off to the side, under a few ripped, blue envelopes, was something that caught my eye. I pushed the envelopes to the side, not thinking anything of them, and picked up the shiny paper underneath. It was a picture with Ayden, her friends, and me, the day we graduated from middle school. Ayden was in the middle of me and some black haired kid, Dylan I think; her arms were draped over our necks and all three of us were smiling like idiots. A boy and a girl were standing off to the side laughing. We all looked…happy. Things have changed so much in the past 3, 4 years. Why would she keep this?

“What are you doing?” her voice came in from behind me.

~♥~ Ayden’s POV ~♥~

“I told you not to touch anything,” I dropped the sodas I was carrying on the bed and grabbed what he had in his hands. It was a picture that was taken before he turned on everyone. He wasn’t supposed to see this. “Why were you going through my stuff?” I asked sternly.

“I-I-uh,” he stammered.

“Spit it out or I’m making you leave,” I glared at him. A look of terror and embarrassment flickered in his eyes. Then he smirked.

“I would never want to go through your stuff. It was just sitting there. You know I was going to save the ‘take a picture it will last longer’ for the next time you are staring at me, but I see that you already have one.”

“Arg! You jerk! Get out! Get out of my house! Now!” I shouted as loud as I could.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, I was only joking. Calm down. We have to finish this project anyways.”

“You expect me to calm down!” It was more of a statement then a question. “You’re nuts. I told you not to do anything and you did. You just invaded my privacy more than ever! I can deal with the name calling, but not with people going through my stuff without asking. How in the world do you expect me to calm down?”

Jeff just looked at me with a shocked face. I have never yelled at anyone as much as I just did. I was surprised with myself, but I tried not to let that show.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean it. It was just there.”

“Stuff it.” I rolled my eyes at him. He didn’t mean it. I know he didn’t. How could he?

“Fine, I should just leave then. See ya in school.” Did he just look sad? No, it couldn’t be. He dumped me as a friend years back. He doesn’t care anymore.

Jeff didn’t look back as he gathered up all of his books and walked out of the room, down the steps and too the door. I followed behind him to make sure that he left. His hand was still on the door knob of the closed door when he said his last words to me, “I’m really sorry,” and with that he opened the door and left.

Once he was completely out of site I walked over to the couch and flopped down.

“Why is he so difficult!?” I screamed in frustration to myself.

After a few minutes of pouting I decided that I should probably start on my homework. I moseyed my way up the steps to my room and collapsed in the desk chair. I turned the power to my computer on and waited for it to boot up. It seemed to be taking forever so I reached over the blue envelopes on my desk and reread what they said. I’m surprised Jeff didn’t read them, and then I’d really be in for it.

I read the two letters over two or three times and didn’t understand why “Creative Writing Dude” would even want to send me something when it wasn’t even graded. The thing that stuck out the most to me, which I couldn’t get out of my head, was when the first one said that the poem was written for me. Who would write that?

I got to angry at them. They were just as frustrating as Jeff.

“Why is my life so confusing?” I threw them to the side and slammed my head on my desk noticing that it didn’t feel like the usual wood, but rather somewhat soft. I perked my head up when I noticed there was a notebook laying there. It was a green spiral notebook that had random doodles on the front, which positively was not mine. I opened it up and saw the pages were covered from top to bottom in a mess of quotes, sayings, poems, and small pictures. The front cover had ‘Jeff’ written in neat cursive, the lettering surrounded by flames and what looked like vines. It would have been pretty cool except for the fact that it was his. I flipped through the book a little and noticed that he was a pretty good poet. I was impressed. I didn’t think some of those words could come from him.

I interrupted from my reading when I heard someone clear their throat from my doorway. I turned to see Jeff standing there.

“Um, hello?” I raised my eyebrow. “Do you always walk into people houses without them letting you in?”

“Do you always read other people’s stuff?” he answered. “And just so you know, I’ve been knocking for about five minutes. So I let myself in because I was just coming to get something that I left. And you know that your one to talk about invading people’s privacy.”

“Well sorry for wondering what in the world some book was doing on my desk for,” I rolled my eyes at him and threw the book for him to catch.

“Whatever, I’m out of here.” I didn’t say anything else. I walked over the top to the steps and stopped him when he got to the last one.

“They’re really good,” I told him. “Your poetry. I’m impressed.”

“Yeah, right,” He scoffed and left for the second time.

Did I just compliment him? Aren’t I supposed to be angry with him? Wow, things are just so hectic today.