❝ darling, let me trace the lines on your tattooed heart ❞
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〚 highest ranking: #471 in romance 〛
〚 copyrighted 〛
〚 cover made by the lovely cadetcarswell 〛
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❁ ❁ ❁
I could tell she didn't want to talk to me from the moment she looked at me. It was easy to see, the way her eyes darted around the room, glancing at the clock and playing with the corner of her paper, she was obviously ready to get out of class. She was tense, not daring to look at me, making sure her belongings were far from my side of the desk. At first, whenever her eyes met mine, it was a cold, hard glare. But as the days went on, she was more protective of herself, more guarded. Made me think that there was more beyond the scowl.
But turns out, I had second period with her too. And fourth. And each class, she had seemed to chosen the alone seat in the back of the room, and I didn't want to bug her or intrude her space. So instead, I sat next to the windows.
But I sat next to her first period. And that was enough. I would always try and talk to her, ask her about herself or just the small things, like homework and quizzes, but she always gave short, one worded answers.
Until one day. A Friday. During the test.
"Did you get answer choice B?" I ask, turning my head to face her, knowing the teacher's bad hearing wouldn't pick up on our conversation.
She shakes her head. "No. I got C, because you have to divide before you can subtract. And you change the signs too." She points to the problem and taps it. "That's where you screwed up."
