"Sweating like a whore in church"

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Adam P.O.V

I was late. Again. I can't tell you how many times I have been late this school year, and it's only October. My teachers don't do anything about it because I get all A's with out having to lift a finger. So, as long as I keep my grades up and make them look good, they don't really care what I do in my free time. Or, I should say who.

After pulling my truck into an empty space I try to bring the collar of my jacket up my neck to hide all the hickeys I got from last nights conquest. Unfortunately, last night's victory turned into this morning's nightmare. She had tried to stay longer at my house to squeeze another date out of me, but I already made it clear to Br...shit... What was her name again? Whatever, it doesn't matter. I had already explained to her that I didn't want a relationship. Then, she got all huffy and defensive; it literally took me twenty minutes to get her out of my house. So, now I'm late. Again.

I leisurely make my way to the front if the school, only stopping briefly to admire a black vintage Harley parked in a handicap space. I'm pretty sure if you're handicapped you wouldn't be riding a motorcycle.

I groan as I climb the steps up to the double doors, a little sore from last night's workout.  I try to think of excuses to use to miss soccer practice after school, not really feeling like dying today from all the drills we have been doing.

I'm just thinking through a good one involving a hernia when  I pass by the 'Stoner Pit' where two guys are passing a cigarette and whispering about something. The only thing I am able to catch from their conversation is a familiar name, "Annette Simmons."

Annette. It's been almost two years since she skipped town and people are still talking about her. Hearing her name starts to stir up old emotions in me, but I quickly tamp them back down. She's gone. For good. There is no point in dwelling on the past and worrying about the girl I love. Loved. Past tense, I quickly remind myself and absentmindedly rub my right wrist where my tattoo lay.

Annette and I had gotten them on her 16th birthday from some sketchy friend of hers. We were both terrified and held each other's hand for dear life, but said nothing out loud. I got the Yang symbol on my right wrist and she got the Yin symbol on her left wrist. So together it made Yin and Yang. It's a Chinese philosophical belief that two opposites compliment and support each other.

There can be no Yin without Yang. No Yang without Yin. Yin represented the dark, feminine side, while Yang representes the light, masculine side. I know it sounds cheesy and cliché, but getting the tattoo seemed like a great idea at the time. We were always together and madly in love and thought things would always be that way. We thought we would be together for life. But, now without her on my right side, it doesn't feel the same, the tatto feels... empty. Devoid of any meaning. Nonetheless, I still don't regret getting the tattoo. Now, it still feels like I'm connected to her in some way.

I pull down my sleeve and try to shake my thoughts away from memory lane as I turn down the hallway. I mean, I'll probably never see her again anyway, so there is no point in worrying about what she is doing now. I'll only drive myself crazy.

When I open classroom door, I can't help but think that that was Karma's way of biting me in the ass.

It's like all the air I had been holding in my lungs since she left all whooshed out of me in one faithful gush. My mind races as I try to make sense of it in my head; as I try to wrap my head around the fact that she is standing less than five feet away from me. My heart picks up speed at just the sight of her.

There, standing at the front of my psych class, obviously in the middle of an introduction, is the girl I thought I would never see again. The same girl that has ahunted my dreams every night since she skipped town. The girl that ripped my heart in two.

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