The Pain You Bring

13 | 𝐂𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞

For a Friday, classes are going by super fast and super stressfully.

I've already had History and Personal Finance for today.

I woke up extra early to study for my History test which was sixty five multiple choice questions. The study guide was six pages long with a list of crap in twelve point font.

And on top of that, classes are an hour and a half long.

I begin walking over to Literature but immediately stop when I see Carter outside the building, smoking a cigarette.

How classy.

He smirks when he sees me before taking a long drag of his cigarette.

"Good morning, Mandy," he says with a smile.

"I never took you as much of a smoker," I respond.

"It helps me focus," he shrugs.

I keep my face blank, "Lung cancer, how centering."

He laughs and looks down at the cigarette he dropped, putting it out with his shoe and taking a swig of water.

"May I walk you to class?" He asks.

"I can find it myself but thank you."

He shrugs and pulls his arm out to lead the way to the door.

I walk into the building and sit in my normal seat once I'm in class. I notice Chloe isn't here. She's always normally right behind me or here before me.

Maybe she took the day off to relax. She deserves a bit of rest.

We discuss the last things on The Great Gatsby and begin to go over things for our mid terms and starting the analysis for Hamlet.

The book arrived at my building yesterday and I threw it somewhere on my messy desk.

Mr. Henderson chose to skip Pride and Prejudice because we wouldn't have time. I'm honestly relieved.

I tried to focus but all I could think about is my other homework and grades. Or what I'll wear to dinner tonight. Or what I'll eat for dinner.

I wonder where we're going.

My thoughts are interrupted when I hear the chair where Chloe normally sits being pulled out next to me and someone's arms rub against me as they sit down.

Strong arms.

"Hey," Carter whispers and I close my eyes so he won't see the annoyance on my face.

"Yes?" I ask in the least patient voice possible. He's a nice guy but I need to focus and get my stuff together.

"How are you?" he asks. I look over at him. His blue eyes are bright and a silver watch - that looks expensive - sits on his wrists as he wears a black skin tight sweater, defining his arm muscles.

His really nice defined arm muscles.

Stop, Mandy. No.

I suddenly remember my thoroughly embarrassing dream of him, and just the memory of it makes my core ache.

Seriously, Amanda. Stop.

"I'm trying to focus right now, can I help you?"

"I distract you?" he asks and a smirk forms on his lips.

Oh my gosh.

A smart snarky smile forms on my lips, "yes. With your annoying ass text messaging and moving seats in class, I'd call you a winner for getting on someone's nerves a lot."