Chapter 2: Thomas

A/N: 27.04.20

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*Thomas's pov*

"So let me get this straight," said Mr. Walter, our school principal. He sat behind his desk with a stern look, his hands folded together. He first glanced towards me. "Thomas, you found a dime on the ground and bent over to pick it up."

"A quarter," I corrected flatly, pressing an ice bag against the back of my head, the area where I injured myself from the crash.

I didn't realize that blood was dripping down my face until the teacher screamed when I walked stepped into class.

The blond boy who crashed into me went to the same school as me and ironically, had the exact same class as I did. When the teacher saw us arrive at the same time, she thought that we had gotten into a fight and immediately sent us to the principal's office. (I had to make a short stop to the infirmary to take care of my concussion).

"And Eli," he said, turning towards the blond boy sitting beside me. "You were riding your bike and crashed into him."

The blond boy, whose name was apparently Eli, straightened shoulders.

"That's correct."

While I had ice pressed against my head, he didn't have a single scratch on him, and that made me extra salty.

I studied his profile. He looked small and frail, the type of guy who looked like he could be swept off his feet if the wind blew hard enough.

Maybe it was his small shoulders or the way he held himself, but he had a slightly androgynous appearance. I noticed that he was sitting on the edge of the chair, his hands neatly folded on his lap while I slumped in mine, legs sprawled out.

My nose wrinkled at his perfect posture.

Maybe if I blow hard enough, he'll fall off his chair.

"I crashed into him, but it was an accident," he clarified.

"Did you break your bike?" Mr. Walter asked.

"No," Eli said, before casting me a nasty glare. "He did."

"He has a name," I snapped. "And how did I break your bike?"

"You were in the way."

I rolled my eyes.

"I'm sorry, was your name written on the ground? Were your initials engraved on the pavement I was standing on? Was there written Eli in big bold letters?"

He rolled his eyes, waving his dainty little fingers in front of my face

"Go away," he ordered. "Your breath stinks."

I stood up with so much force, my chair almost toppled over. I was seconds away from punching him but the principal slammed his palms against the table, making us both jump.

"Mr. Klence, sit down," he ordered sharply. I saw a smug smirk etch on Eli's lips.

Fine, whatever. I'll beat him up later.

I sat back down.

"And Mr. Golden, will you please try to behave? What do you think your parents will do when they find out about this?" sighed Mr. Walter, tiredness weighing in his eyes.

Eli gave a simple shrug.

"They'll buy me a new bike."

Of course, how did I not notice?

Eli was filthy rich.

He was wearing a pastel-blue polo shirt neatly tucked into his black jeans and a fancy leather belt around his small waist.

He was dressed like a golf dad, but two heads smaller and 30 years younger. Yup, reeked of money.

"Is your bike badly broken?"

Okay, so there's a student bleeding in front of you and all you care about is this dude's bike? Talk about equality. I demand justice.

"I think the handle bent."

"You said it yourself, you daddy can buy you a new one," I grumbled.

I noticed that Eli was studying me just as I studied him. His eyes flickered from head to toe with a judgemental look on his face as if looking at me disgusted him. His eyes were screaming: Ew. A poor kid.

I was wearing a simple white shirt and black jeans, a pair of sneakers that I should have thrown out years ago but that were still functional, so didn't.

"I don't see what the big deal is?" I mumbled. "He said so himself, he can buy himself a new bike."

"Or I can donate it to you," Eli snorted after glaring at my sneaker as if simply wearing them was an insult to his eyes.

"Or you could sell it and buy yourself a personality," I smirked. Then paused, shaking my head. "Cross that. Even a million dollars wouldn't be able to fix your pers-"

"Will both of you stop it?!" shouted Mr. Walter.

He drew in a deep breath, removing his spectacles. You know that shit gets serious when an adult takes their glasses off. He pressed two fingers to his temples and the room went dead silent.

"Thomas, you do not come to class with a bleeding head," he snapped.

I'm sorry my body can't defy logic.

"And Eli, you do not blame someone for an accident."

Another moment of unsettling silence and we waited for the principal to say something.

"I'm giving you two a week of detention."

"What?!" We both cried together.

Well, at least we had one thing in common.

"One week," repeated the principal.

I wanted to tell him that I couldnt afford wasting time in detention. Literally, I couldn't afford it. I had a part-time job as a cashier, a job that helped pay our taxes, and without it, Elle and I were screwed.

I would have told Mr. Walter about my financial problems, but my pride refused to let Eli see me in such a vulnerable position.

"You two can spend detention scraping the gum off the cafeteria tables. That is your last sentence," he said as if he was some kind of judge and we were the criminals in court. "Any last words?"

I sunk in my chair in defeat and Eli blew the wavy bangs that fell over his forehead, annoyed.

At this rate, we might as well be best friends.

"Good. Now get back to class, the both of you," he ordered. Eli and I shuffled out of the principal's office.

"This is your fault," he muttered when I closed the door behind me.

"Maybe you wouldn't have crashed if you were looking at where you were going," I snapped.

"How was I supposed to know that you were on the ground?!"

"You weren't," I said. "That's why you pay attention," I said, tapping his forehead with my index. His head bobbed back twice before he angrily swatted my hand away, narrowing his bright blue eyes.

Where did he get all this energy to be annoying? I could never.

"Don't touch me with your filthy hands. Who knows where they've been?"

I was about to snap something back, but instead, a smug grin stretched across my face.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" I grinned.

"No, I wouldn't, you filthy rat."

I almost gasped.

"Rich snob," I shot back.

And to think that I thought this guy was beautiful. I really must have hit my head hard. He was like a demon hiding behind an angel's face.

"Whatever, just don't act like you know me."

"You flatter yourself," I said with an eyeroll. Eli glared at me.

"Just don't get in my way."

"Then watch where you're fucking going."

He scowled when I swore, staring at me as if I had just insulted each and every one of his holy, Christian Saints. Eli made a disgusted noise before storming away and I sighed, running a hand through my tousled hair.

Not only was he a twat, but he was obnoxious, too. My vocabulary of insults was definitely going to extend hanging around him.

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