ll Tennis Courts- Lorde ll
"So," He blinks a few times, flashing me a tight grin before he speaks again, beginning his sentence, the punchline in this very awkward conversation. "I was thinking that you and I could maybe go out Friday night." A smile sweeps across the jock's face, one with the delight, glee, and anticipation of a child on Christmas morning, anxiously awaiting my answer to this proposition as he nonchalantly leans against the locker next to mine, where he had been waiting for me. 
We worked together a few times in chemistry, due to being lab partners, but I had never thought he would ask me out. Nor did I even want him to. I never had a conversation with him that wasn't about chemicals and me telling him to light up the bunsen burner. 
But here he was, asking me out. And here I was, yet another offer I had to refuse. 

"Thanks," I begin, shuffling my books for my last period class to my left arm, "But no thanks. I don't really date." I explain. 
It was something he had to have known prior. But like all the other guys before, he probably shrugged it off, letting his ego get in the way and imagining that he was just too hot for me to turn him down. 

Like all the others, he was wrong. 

"Oh, I know that. But c'mon you're hot, I'm hot. Why don't you just give it a shot?" With the flash of another hopeful grin, I resisted the strong urge growing to slap him right across the face, just like I had wanted to do with all the others.
But instead I just pivot on my heel, ready to head in the opposite direction, "Sorry." I shrug casually as I turned my back continuing down the hall and blending in the sea of people all not-so-eager to get to their last period class.

On autopilot I arrive at my creative writing class. If there was a class I found myself absolutely excelling in, it was this one. My best grades, my best thoughts, my best moods all were born and raised in this classroom, where I took my seat in the fifth row nearest to the window, third one down. Across from me was the cheerleader, a blonde, fairly pretty one. 
Popular she was, and for her popularity, I always doubted whether she really liked creative writing class… or if this was just the only elective left for her to take. 

If I'm going to be completely honest here, which, I usually am… well, except to myself, I may just admit I had my eye on her. No, it wasn't a crush, it isn't a crush, it never would be a crush, but i did think she was just so pretty. So divine. From her messy roots coming in, trailing down to her deep olive eyes, and her face, just her face. Everything about it screamed perfection and I never thought I would say, or think rather, that of a person, but here she was, living proof. 

"Can I help you?" She asks suddenly, her voice bringing me back to reality as I realize then that I was staring. Doing nothing but staring. I could feel my cheeks burn brightly and I try and shrug it off, but instead I stammer. 

"Uh, no, no, I'm fine," I say before clearing my throat and instead anxiously flipping open my tablet to a blank page, a new slate for whatever assignment we may be doing today. I don't even care what it is. I'm eager for a distraction. 
So when my teacher says that we must pair up with the person across from us for our first group project of the year, it's then that I have an actual reason to stare, and a very attractive distraction.
Our teacher was never that big on group projects, often saying she liked seeing how we "shine" on our own, but for this rare occasion, we'd be shining together, having to come up with a horror story, in the spirit of Halloween, with a very dramatic twist. At least five pages, with a generous two weeks for us to work on it.

Lucky, lucky me. 

I turn towards her, finally for a plausible reason, just as she turns to me, sighing lightly as she flips a few pieces of honey hair away from her face, "Any ideas? You seem good at this kind of stuff."

"And you're not?" I question raising an eyebrow. 

She shrugs, "Not really. I mainly took this class because I heard it was easy… that was a lie," She snorts out a laugh and I giggle, marking my prediction right. "Thank God you're my partner for this… Mr. C raves about you… you must have good ideas."

I blush, "Not really," I chuckle modestly. "But anyways, do you have any starting ideas?"

"How about a murderer?" 

I click my tongue, so a-typical, "I think we need something different. No murders… well, a few, but, we need something nobody else will have."


I shrug, "Come on, I don't know," I say glancing at her, eyes trailing down to her lips, suddenly not wanting to make eye contact. "Something different that doesn't include an ax murderer in a dark alley. A kind of haunting that'll give us an A+ and that isn't a total cliche."

"You're supposed to be the smart one here," She smiles lightly, "Ghosts? A ghost that doesn't realize it's dead? A ghost that does more than just scare the he.ll out of people?" She rattles off her ideas. 

I laugh, "I like those. I like those a lot. Who knows, maybe you're the one with the good ideas between the two of us."

She smiles, a smile I'd never seen before. Something so happy, so proud. Had she never heard something being said so positive about her before? 
"You really think so?" 

I could feel a blush rising to my cheeks, color splashing across the apples, "Yeah."

Just then the bell rings. As usual, class zoomed by and now, before everyone else could get too excited and bolt for the door, I looked at Eva, "I know we have a lot of time to work on this and all, but how about you come to my place after school tomorrow, so we can really get this over with." 
I couldn't believe the balls I was having right now in doing this, actually inviting someone, her, a girl I found extremely attractive, over to my house. Such a simple, innocent, and completely unsuspecting gesture, but something that may mean more to me. 
Notice the use of the word may. It depends how honest I'm feeling, really, but yes, it may mean more to me than a simple good classmate invitation. 

She grabs her books, standing up just as I do, "Yeah, sure," She nods, flashing me a tight grin before hurriedly walking off, me trailing behind her, a smile on her face as once again I venture into the hallway, getting lost in the sea of people. 

I arrive at my locker, only to see yet another boy waiting at the one next to mine, a smile on the hockey player's cute face as I nonchalantly work the lock, just as he begins to say, "So…" 
Already, I knew the rest of the monologue, but with the happiness buzzing my insides from the previous class, I didn't even bother with him. Instead I grabbed my bag, leaving him dead hanging, no gestures, no acknowledgment before I walked off, heading towards the side door.

Once again my best mood was born from creative writing class.
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