Distractions.

I don’t know how long I sat and listened to Frank play but it was long enough for my legs to get stiff. The music was beautiful, mind-blowing extravagance; I was hypnotized.

I watched him carefully, his eyes were closed and he was humming along softly to the tune, his fingers plucking softly at the strings of his guitar. It took me a moment to realise that the music had stopped, when I did realise I looked up sharply from the tatty rug beneath me and stared at him, confused.

“You stopped,” I said, quite stupidly. He smiled at me and nodded.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Why?”

“Because my fingers are sore, the song was finished and it’s almost time for next lesson,” he replied, smirking. I glanced down at his wrist, no watch. How did he know the time? He must have seen me look at his wrist because he answered my unspoken question.

“There’s a clock behind you up on the wall,” he stated, pointing behind me. I looked up and sure enough there was an old, dusty school clock hanging from the wall. I nodded, turning a slight pink. When I sat up from lying on my stomach I realised just how sore you get after lying propped up on your elbows for an extensive period of time; my ribs were pretty painful.

I grimaced when I finally got into a sitting position and wrapped my arms around my torso to try and suppress the ache.

“Are you okay?” Frank asked, looking at my position funnily.

I nodded, “Yeah, my ribs just hurt because of how I was laying down.”

He nodded, understanding in his expression for a moment before he started smirking and chuckling to himself. He continued staring at me all the while he was chuckling and it was starting to annoy me.

“What?” I exclaimed, confused.

“I can think of a few other things that could make you ribs sore,” he explained. I didn’t understand and kept staring at him blankly. He raised an eyebrow at me meaningfully and, suddenly, I understood what he was getting at.

“You’ve got a sick and twisted mind,” I said in disbelief that he’d actually make such a ‘joke’. Wait a moment; yes I think I can believe it. He just grinned at me cheekily and I gave in, smiling a little before shaking my head at him; the guy was beyond unbelievable.

“Well, we better get a move on if you don’t want your little friends worrying about you,” Frank said, standing up and stretching. With his arms raised high above his head, his shirt slid up his torso revealing a patch of bare skin on his stomach. I looked away, unamused at the sight.

“It doesn’t matter, I’m not sitting with them,” I mumbled in reply, standing up and stretching along with him. Once my body felt as near as normal as I was going to get it, I walked over to the corner where I had dumped my stuff and started to gather it all up.

“You always sit with your friends at that wall on the concourse though,” Frank said, confusion laced through every syllable and word. I guess I would be confused too if I were him but he didn’t know what I knew. He didn’t know how I felt.

I shook my head, keeping my eyes firmly on the things in my hands when I turned to face him, “Not anymore I don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Things are…strained at the moment,” I answered, not wanting to tell him the real issue. It was too long to get into and all it was going to do was make me want to mope around and be depressed.

“From your side or theirs?” he asked, a small knowing smile plastered on his face. I looked at him hard for a moment before I answered, unsure whether or not I should tell him to drop it.

I answered honestly anyway; I disagree with the prospect of deceit or lying, “Mine. Theirs. Both? It’s hard to explain.”

“Hard or you don’t want too?” he laughed. I smiled at him, a little surprised that he didn’t seem so intense while asking me all these questions.

“The latter,” I answered, smile still in place. He nodded and, surprisingly, dropped it and changed the subject slightly.

“Does that mean you’ll be able to hang with me and have lunch?” he asked, obviously trying to keep the hope out of his voice. I picked up on it though; to me it was as plain as the nose on his face.

“Yeah, I guess so,” I answered grudgingly. Frank smiled and gestured for me to follow him when he began to walk out of the little shed like building. He led me across the grass area, which we had crossed at the start of the lesson, and he strode across the concourse confidently. He didn’t notice I had stopped until he was halfway across.

“What’s up?” he asked, suddenly right beside me again. He noticed the direction of my gaze and he too looked over at my ‘friends’ on the wall. I stared a moment longer before dropping my gaze and starting across the concourse again, ignoring his question.

“So where are we going anyway?” I asked, looking at my surroundings in confusion. We were now at the front of the school behind the cafeteria and Frank was leading me to where all the people who had been classified as ‘emo’ hung out.

“I just need to talk to someone here first and then we’ll go and have lunch,” he answered, pausing and looking at me as if he were searching for something in my expression. Staring back at him, my curiosity took over and I had a huge realization right there; I wasn’t mad at him anymore and I’d agreed to have lunch with him. Fuck.

I watched him finally turn away from me and walk over to a girl with white blonde hair matched with thick eyeliner and start talking to her in hushed tones. A frown took over my face and I was feeling mad at myself. Why had I agreed to have lunch with him? After all, I was meant to be angry at him for a) springing me out of class against my will b) not leaving me the hell alone and c) just being an ignorant, cocky motherfucker.

He was like a snake charmer; charming me with his music. What pisses me off the most though was that I let him ‘charm’ me. I thought about this for a minute and felt stupid for allowing it to happen.

I didn’t have a choice though. There; that was better. I didn’t have a choice in the matter. He’s probably a psychotic idiot who practices voodoo shit and he’s got me under a spell. I need to break the spell.

I felt a light tap on my shoulder and I jumped, my head flying up sharply to look at the person who did it. It was just Frank.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked, looking at me intently, “I just said your name like five times and you didn’t answer. It was as if you were in another world.”

“Do you practice the art of voodoo?” I blurted, suspicion the only emotion evident in my question. Frank blinked; once…twice at me.

“Where did that come from?”

“Just answer the goddamned question,” I hissed, now completely sure he did.

“No, I don’t. Now, why the hell do you think I’m a voodooist?” he replied, looking a little pissed off. Okay, now I wasn’t so sure he practiced voodoo.

“No reason,” I mumbled, ducking my head to hide the pink steadily climbing up my cheeks. Trying to calm the situation, I asked him about our lunch destination.

“So where are we having lunch?”

Frank didn’t answer at first so I glanced up at him; he was still staring at me angrily.

“Look, I’m sorry. I’ll explain when we sit down for lunch, yeah?” I said, trying to stop him from staring at me like that. I’d screwed up and made myself look like a complete tool and an idiot.

“Whatever,” was the only reply I received before he stalked off towards the student car park. I trailed along behind him, upset at his change of mood. I’d made him angry at me because I was mad athim myself for letting him break down some of the wall I’d built around myself. Funny how I was now upset at myself for making him mad at me.

Frank stopped in front of a bright yellow old VW bug and told me to get into the passenger side. I did as he said and sat quietly after fastening my seatbelt.

“Now. Tell me why you think I practice voodoo,” Frank growled, obviously unimpressed. I was beginning to feel a little bad that I’d blurted that out… “Is it because I’m bi?”

My head snapped up at that. I raised an eyebrow at him, “Are you fucking serious?”

“What do you think?” he snapped, glaring at me.

“Just because I asked if you were practicing voodoo doesn’t mean that I was making a stab at your sexuality, Frank. Seriously, get a grip you moron; not everyone’s here to have a go at you for liking guys and girls. So stop being so full of yourself and get over it,” I retorted, all nice feelings towards him now gone. I was just pissed off now.

“Well, why the fuck did you think I was practicing voodoo?!” he screamed, slamming his fists against the wheel. I was kind of glad we hadn’t left yet or I think we would’ve crashed the car.

“I have my reasons,” I screamed back, “And they definitely aren’t because of your stupid sexuality.”

“You better tell me what they are or I’ll…” he trailed off.

“You’ll what?” I spat at him, “Kiss me until I tell you?”

“Maybe,” he mumbled, unable to keep a small smile from appearing on his face.

“Funny,” I said sarcastically, “I said I’m sorry, yeah? I am; truly. I didn’t mean to sound like such a dick. I just blurted it out, and sometimes I have trouble not saying what’s on my mind.”

“I can tell,” he replied, pulling out of the parking space and driving out of the car park. “You can tell me what goes through your little mind when we get to MacDonald’s. We’ve already wasted enough time arguing like a married couple.”

I glared at him for that comment; I could already tell he was back to his cocky, arrogant ways.

“Whatever. Just have me back at school before lunch ends,” I grumbled, sullenly adding ‘please’ just in case.