Chapter 4: Chapter 4

The other day, I was watching a movie with a bunch of fighting, and I saw a scene that caught my attention so much that I had to make it my own. So if you guys figure out the movie when you read, kudos to you. You deserve a cookie for knowing. ♥

* * *

For some reason, I automatically assumed she’d be mad for my meddling into whatever love life Jesse would have given her. But when I saw only surprise on her face, a part of me relaxed.

She didn’t know he’d been waiting for her. She probably didn’t even know he’d been in the works of making her his next conquest.

I struggled for a plausible excuse to keep it that way. “He was, uh, you know…wondering if I had a…pencil,” I sputtered out. Only a second after realizing how utterly ridiculous I sounded, I gauged her reaction to see if she’d caught on to my lying.

However, there wasn’t really anything to gauge when she only gave me an uneasy smile. I noticed her eyes shift behind me, and I hastily moved out of the way so she could get to her locker.

Watching her as she arranged her things, I began to seriously question her silence. Yielding to my curiosity, I leaned against the locker beside hers and asked, “You don’t like him or anything…do you?”

Katrina blinked. “God, no,” she said, sending me an aghast look. “I mean, yeah, he’s hot—but no. Guys like him aren’t the kinds that you should even—just—just no. No, Carson. Just no.”

I smiled, instantly reassured at her words. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“I was just surprised you were talking to him.”

“Me, too.” Although, I doubted practically insulting him every time I said something to him classified as “talking.”

When Katrina’s locker clanged shut and the bell rang, whatever peaceful state of mind I was in as I journeyed my way through the halls to my first period was automatically shut down as soon as I remembered what awaited me in my first class of the day.

The devil himself.

Standing outside the door of my English class, I peered in through the small window inset in the classroom door and scrunched my eyebrows together when I saw that Jesse was already inside.

English literature was the only class we had together in a closed space. We had P.E. together also, but with the way it was set up, it might as well not be counted as a shared class. Still though, I blamed the similarities in our schedules on the small amount of 11th graders. And I also blamed the school’s ludicrous rules that no student was allowed to switch class schedules unless absolutely necessary.

Not having any choice but to go in, I used the last minute before the tardy bell rung to ruffle my hair up. Following a group of students into the classroom, I made my face as gloomy as possible. I figured that looking as though I’d just gotten into a fight would keep Jesse at bay.

As soon as I walked in though, I noticed him sit up in his chair out of the corner of my eye. I hoped it was because one of his many friends crowded around him said something interesting and not because he saw me and realized we’d even had a class together.

I had a feeling it was latter though.

I quickly scurried to my seat, thankful that it was on the opposite side of the room from where Jesse was. While the teacher—a middle aged, dark haired woman that preferred her students to call her, Ms. C—organized the worksheets on her desk, I leaned back in my seat and kept my eyes trained out of the window beside me. A few minutes passed before Ms. C realized that the tardy bell had rung, and when she did, she only stood up to address the class about half-way through the hour.

“In light of finishing The Great Gatsby,” she said. “We’re going to do an activity on the characters by finding and using specific words that represent their personalities. For example…arrogant would be best used for Tom. Loyal for Nick. Athletic for Jordan and so on and so forth.” She paused as her eyes scanned the room. I assumed for both counting the number of students and also making sure her class was paying attention to the directions. “Alright, so we’re going to do this is groups of three.”

I always dreaded having to work in groups. Due to my abrasive attitude, it had always been hard making friends. And more often than not, I usually always ended up working alone. Thankfully though, that didn’t happen today.

Only a second after the teacher finished speaking to hand out worksheets, I turned to the sound of a desk scraping across the floor and found that the girl who had been sitting beside me moved her desk so that it sat adjacent to mine.

She was petite and cute looking, with her floral blouse and the small smile on her face that made it obvious that she was far more friendlier than me. I glanced around her to look around the classroom. When I didn’t spot any girls who resembled her appearance, I figured she was only grouping with me because her friends were most likely absent.

I didn’t let that offend me though. I was just grateful that I didn’t have to do the work alone.

As Ms. C placed a thin, stark white worksheet on the desks, I allowed the girl to grab the paper while I twisted in my seat to pull out a pencil from my bag. I had barely grasped it when I heard a desk screech and tap mine from the front. My eyes slowly raised up from my bag to the back of classroom.

Jesse wasn’t there.

I turned the pencil over between my fingers, holding it as though it was a knife, and turned back to face the front.

Sure enough, sitting across from me in a desk that surely didn’t belong to him, was Jesse.

One side of his lips quirked up into a smile when his eyes met mine. He leaned back in his chair, looking as if he was holding back his laughter at how I was looking at him.

“So we got George Wilson.” I glanced at the girl beside me, for a moment forgetting she was even there. Looking down at the paper after processing her words, I saw for myself that we had indeed gotten Myrtle Wilson’s husband. And I also saw in an elegant scrawl toward the top of the page that the girl’s name was Lauren. “You guys got anything?”

“Annoying,” I blurted out unthinkingly, staring at Jesse.

Lauren nodded slightly, looking unsure but writing the word down anyway. She lifted her head back up when Jesse spoke, his eyes on me. “Stubborn.”

“Revolting.”

“Violent.”

“Nauseating,” I shot back.

He gawked at that one, but then straightened up. “Short tempered.”

I paused. “What? That’s not even a word.”

“Yes it is. It’s a compound word,” he said, raising his eyebrows expectantly at Lauren. She looked at me and nodded in confirmation.

I looked away from her to Jesse, knowing that he was right but not wanting to admit defeat. “The directions say to use words, not compound ones.”

“But it’s still a word.”

“It’s a compound word so it doesn’t count.” My voice was growing louder.

Jesse smiled again, unfazed, and propped his elbows on his desk and leaned forward. “Well, first of all honey, compound words are words. Second, it’s true anyway.”

I glowered at him, wondering how many days of suspension I would be given for flipping his desk over. I paused my violent fantasies at the sound of crumpling and looked over to Lauren, who was crumbling up our worksheet into a ball. “We’re not talking about Wilson, are we…?”

She had been using a pen. Poor girl. I took that she figured out the answer on her own though, and I remained silent as she stood up to throw it away and ask for another paper.

Once she was gone, Jesse looked back to me. “For the record, you really are short tempered.”

“For the record, you really are annoying.”

He chuckled and ran a hand through his black hair. “I could say the same, but you’re not so much annoying as you are interesting. And cute. Did I tell you that you were cute before?”

I sat back in my seat roughly. “I missed the part when I decided—” I broke off to gesture to the space between us. “When I decided that this was okay.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Well…we are in a group.”

“Just stop talking to me.”

“The directions clearly say we have to work together.”

“I don’t care.”

“Oh, come on,” Jesse drawled. When I continued to ignore him, I felt him kick the side of my shoe underneath the desk, and I retaliated by aggressively kicking him back. However, he managed to pull away at the last second, so I only succeeded in kicking the leg of my own desk. “We should keep talking,” he went on. “Unless, you’d rather do something else. You know”—he suddenly lowered his voice—“I hear the janitor’s closets are very clean this time of year.”

I’m going to set this guy on fire.

I was just beginning to promise him that his funeral would be just as clean too, when Lauren returned and I held my tongue. She eyed us both once she took her seat, a new paper in her hands. I couldn’t help but notice her eyes constantly flicking toward Jesse. I didn’t even need to wonder why.

Turning my gaze back to him, I narrowed my eyes at him when I saw he was already staring at me. He looked over to Lauren after a moment. At first I thought he was going to ask for the worksheet to do as much work as he could before the bell could signal the end of the period, but when he continued to stare at her, I almost asked what he was doing. Once she blushed though, I caught on.

“Hi,” he said to her. By the look on her face it wouldn't have made a difference if he'd declared his love for her in a serenade.

I don’t think I’ve ever been more appreciative and grateful for the sound of a bell in my life. Before Jesse could even continue talking, I abandoned my broken pencil on my desk, grabbed my bag, and bolted for the classroom door, out beating the other students who were hurrying to it before me.

One look at Lauren and it had been clear she’d fell for his charm. I didn't even know whether to laugh or cry at how she'd fallen regardless that he'd hadn't spoken but one word to her.

And I had to get out of there before I clawed those blue eyes of his out.