It has been 8 school days, or one week and a day, since I have started 9th grade. One week and a day of ignoring the blue eyed devil sitting to my right in my homeroom. One week and a day _failing_.

Mrs. Hills, I appreciate her as a teacher and like her more than any other teacher I have in this grade, but did she really need to assign us partners? I’m fine with partner projects, I would usually be the one to do all the work and give us both A’s, but that was when I didn’t have someone to avoid.

Sadly, Mrs. Hills paired me with that exact male specimen.

We had turned our desks so that the ends are together, and now we are facing each other. Kris is staring at me, though my eyes are on the screen of my Chromebook I can feel him watching, and doing absolutely nothing to contribute to the project.

I’m used to it by now, so why am I so worked up about it?

It’s, for once, rather quiet in the classroom, the causual mumble breaking through. That’s mostly because everyone is on a shared Google doc and can type what they want on there.

I know this because Kris is doing it right now; not because anyone ever did with me. Why would they?

I have a separate tab pulled up, since we are researching about AI’s ability to take human jobs, and hopping tab to tab. When I go back to the document. I find this:

**hey day wanna show me around town sometime?**

**No.** I type back before erasing both texts and continuing on with my last paragraph.

Kris frowns, looking down at me because he is so damn tall. I frown at myself, then will myself to focus. _Just get this project done this period and you won’t have to worry about him anymore. Just one more paragraph and you’re done._

Kris is still looking at me, not doing an ounce of work. So he is like everyone else. Just because he talked to me doesn’t make him any different, I suppose, just more outgoing than most. I type a few more sentences—and I am done! And with a few minutes left in class to spare. I have never felt more overjoyed in a moment after finishing work.

That’s when it all suddenly disappears.

“What the—!” I cover my mouth quickly, but it’s too late.

Everyone is looking at me, surprise in the students’ gazes and annoyance in Mrs. Hills’. Kris is looking at me with amusement in his own blue gaze.

Heat rises from the floor and overtakes my shaking body.

“Mr. Harris,” Mrs. Hill says in a clipped voice, “If you would sit down.”

I freeze. I hadn’t even known I had stood. As I scoot my chair in I find Kris laughing behind his hand. The other students have returned back to their screens, but they are no doubt talking about the scene that I had made.

I look back to my Chromebook and see all the text back. The same as it was before it disappeared.

Kris is waiting for me to look at him. I will not give him the satisfaction. Instead I unshare him from the document, close my computer, and mouth _Bitch_.

I mean it in the worse way possible, so why the heck does this creep bit his lip as though I aroused him?

My hatered for him has grown now, and if he continues to act the way it shall expand until covers my body in its firey heat of rage.

That’s what I feel all the time whenever he look at me. My cheeks get warm and my body shakes. That’s what it has to be.

It’s not a crush.

_It’s not._

***

||WARNING! VERY HORNY TEENAGER!||

**_

Kris

_**Okay, okay, I’ll admit that I’m being a bit mean about the whole thing. I shouldn’t have provoked him like that, but that _face_!

God, it makes my heart race just thinking about it.

Anyway, I’m glad that I was partners for Davy for that one. Ooh, Davy, that’s a good one. Maybe I should try calling him that tomorrow. That project is done though and I don’t have to worry about it.

I sit at math, toying with my pencil and copying off the notes from the boy beside me. Matt, I think that’s his name anyway, seems to be afraid of me or something. He is tilting his body away, it looks kinda weird and funny at the same time ‘cause he’s trying to keep his balance while writing.

Mr. Smith is droning on and on and on about Algebra. My brain spaces out even as I write. God, the only thing school was for was to get hard off of pissing off a nerd.

I slid my head down to my desk and lay on my cheek. _What have I become?_

Back at my old town, I used to hook up with every boy and girl there. You see, the school board had this amazing idea to mix the middle and high school together so they were in the same building.

Idiots.

Some kids got raped that year, but some wanted it. Like me. I had a bit of a reputation there and I liked it.

But of course Mom had to get herself arrested for drugs and of course I had to go live with my bastard of a dad.

Now I’m not gonna lie: the man’s got it in life. A lovely wife, two beautiful kids, a nice paying job as, wait for it, _THE PRINICPAL OF THIS GODDAMN SCHOOL! _But, me and him don’t have a father-son relationship. It’s more like….

A shop owner and his weekly customer. I’m the shop owner and he’s the customer every week. I’m only being nice to him because he provides for me, and he’s only being nice to me because…I don’t know? I’m his son?

I groan. I don’t wanna think about that right now. I close my eyes, Mr. Smith’s voice drowning in my ears.

_Davis Harris. Davis Harris with his sexy brown skin and sexy glasses looking like he wants to kill me. Davis Harris frowning with his plump lips. Davis Harris—_

I wake up at the bell, lips and notebook wet with drool. Dear lord, so much to copying notes.

I stuff all my notes and pencils into my bookbag and rush out the classroom to the lunchroom. When I make it, I look around for a seat to go to after I get my lunch. My eyes stop on an empty table with a lone person sitting there. I smirk and lick my lips.

This should be fun.

***

**_Back to my lovely Davis_**

I thought that homeroom was the only place I was going to see that devil.

So why do I see his sauntering towards me in the same pink jacket he always wears, with his same dark purple hair, with his same dammed dimpled smile with his DAMNED BRACES?

I blink. I feel this fluttery, hot feeling in my stomach. Is he coming over to sit with me? Me of all people. Maybe he’s just—

Kris places his lunch tray right across from me and slides into the seat.

Nevermind.

“Why are you so frowny, Davy?” Kris starts eating his broccoli, with his hand, and looks at me with his blue eyes.

“Why do you think?” I growl back. “And don’t call me that name.”A lunch lady pulls trash can this way and I throw my food in the garbage. “Good bye.” I start to make it to the tray line to deposit my tray, but before I can, Kris grabs one of my arms and pulls me back against his chest.

The lunch room goes quiet after a few seconds. A FEW SECONDS? Why am I letting him hold me this long? I try to push away, but Kris holds me tight against him.

“Oh look at us,” he whispers into my ear, deep voice even deeper than before, “We’re hugging.”

“No, we are _not_ doing such!”

I can practically feel him smiling against my ear. “That’s not what they think.” I freeze and my heart goes back into hyperdrive.

He lets me now, and I stumble away. People are whispering. Usually I wouldn’t be worried about this kind of stuff. Usually I would just shake it off.

But most of my usually’s have been smashed and removed by that blue eyed devil.

I find myself running out of the lunch room to who knows where, face warm and body vibrating with the memory of Kris’ arms on my chest and breath in my ear.

***

_(Thanks for reading! I only have a little like 500 words if I tired to finish up, so part 1.5 will be later today probably. I don’t know. But how did you like Kris’ backstory? I’m trying to figure out how to make Kris and Davis _different_ from each other. Anyways, have a good day!)_

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