8 | A Misunderstanding

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When Friday arrives, I actually look forward to the weekend. It's the time where I can finally take a break from all the hustle and bustle that is tiring me out.

When the bell rings for the last class, everyone packs their bags and scatters out of the place quickly. I head to my locker and punch the numbers in to unlock it. When the metal door swings open, something small and pink flutters out of the locker.

I shove my books in before bending over to pick up the note and flipping over to look at its content. My eyes scan the words quickly before they widen in surprise.

Kyle,

Would you like to go out to dinner with me sometime?

Or we can just head to my room and go straight to dessert.

I almost gag.

They wrote the words perfectly carefully across a pink floral card. I flip it again, realizing that there isn't a name on it except a number.

Clearly, somebody has dropped this off at the wrong locker.

Whoever this secret admirer is, her guts are admirable, despite how bold she is with her words and is a little clumsy to have made this sort of mistake.

But I understand her infatuation with Kyle. He is understandably popular. He's tall, handsome, cool and—from my days of unintentionally catching onto gossip and observation — he's on the school's track & field star team. Apart from his nasty temper, he's the ideal guy that all girls will compete with and vie for his attention.

When nobody's watching, I hurriedly slip the note into his locker. If anybody catches me doing this and mistaken me for writing such dirty things to Kyle, I'm most definitely going to die of embarrassment.

I'm about to leave when a brusque voice from behind startles me, one that I recognize immediately.

"What are you doing, Riley?"

Speak of the devil. "Nothing," I answered and shut my locker. When I turn around, he's closer to me than I thought. I stumble backwards and hit the lockers behind me.

"S-sorry," I say awkwardly.

This is the first time we are exchanging words. Ever since Kyle has dropped the bombshell on me about our past, he has been avoiding me as much as he can, as if I'm a parasite that he needs to stay away from.

When I attempt to sidestep him, he takes a step in the same direction. His broad build blocks my path and I reel back to avoid smacking my face into his chest. When I turn to the other side to make my escape, he places his right palm on the locker just inches away from my face, enclosing me in this tight space and making it difficult for me to breathe.

Finding myself wedged between his body and the wall of lockers, I'm forced to look up to meet his cool, inscrutable gaze.

"C-can I help you with something?" I stutter out.

But Kyle studies me closely, his dark eyes running over my face with a curious, searching glance. Without uttering a word, his left hand reaches out to the padlock, and he opens his own locker. All the while, his eyes are still on me as he pulls out the same note that I have just slipped in earlier.

Oh, god.

If only the floor can swallow me up whole now.

Without moving away from me, he reads the words written on the small pink paper and his face slowly creases into a frown. He takes a glance at me again, his attention flitting back and forth between me and the note.

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