Ryan anxiously tapped his pencil against the tan, scribbled-on desk. His right leg bounced up and down in anticipation. Brendon hadn't showed up to school for the past two days—and he was always on time, waiting by the band room. There had to be an important reason—
"Ryan!" his AP English teacher, Mr. Davis, snapped sternly, "Have you been paying any attention at all?" His face was beginning to turn a pale shade of maroon, which definitely did not compliment his already-balding head.
Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.
"Um," he stuttered nervously, accidentally dropping his pencil as he spoke, "yes, Mr. Davis." As Ryan began to bend down for his writing utensil, his teacher slammed a pointer against the green chalkboard, creating a vibrating echo throughout the classroom.
"I've asked you three times already," he glared, "What message did the author convey in this paragraph?!" The words written on the board seemed foreign to Ryan.
"Paragraph, paragraph," he muttered, skimming through his novel, "what—what page is it on?" Mr. Davis sighed and shook his head in disappointment.
"Alright, Ashley, what message did the author convey in this paragraph?" The red-haired girl cleared her throat and pristinely set her hands on her paper. She began to read:
"'When you fall in love, it is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake, and then it subsides. And when it subsides, you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots are to become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the desire to mate every second of the day. It is not lying awake at night imagining that he is kissing every part of your body. No ... don't blush. I am telling you some truths. For that is just being in love; which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over, when being in love has burned away. Doesn't sound very exciting, does it? But it is!' I believe Louis de Bernières wants us to understand the true meaning of love, for many people falsely fall for someone due to their looks or attractive first impression. I agree with Bernières because . . ." Ryan began to become lost in thought once again. His mind worked like a reel, spinning and spinning until it came to a conclusion. The words flowing from Ashley's mouth—though they were mostly the author's—helped him finally understand what kept distracting him. Brendon.
Just because he was kind to me does not mean I should fall for him, Ryan thought to himself, I'm being so stereotypical: Gay boy #1 meets Possibly Gay Boy #2. Gay Boy #1 falls immensely in love with Possibly Gay Boy #2. The love isn't real, but Gay Boy #1 doesn't know it yet. God, I don't even know him that well. Maybe after a few months of knowing him I'll regain interest, but for now, I have to focus on my studies. This stupid crush has been hurting me academically, and it's now time to—
"Ryan Ross!" Mr. Davis yelled. He looked up. The entire classroom was empty. A wave of embarrassment encapsulated him, forcing his face to change the same shade of pink it turned whenever he was around Brendon. Mr. Davis rubbed his still-red face with his calloused hands.
"Your old teachers from Ohio told me hundreds of times how attentive you were, but now—I don't know. Are we moving too fast? Do you want us to figure out how to switch you to a lower English Class?" he asked. Ryan could see the annoyance in his eyes.
"No, I'm just fine," Ryan said, swallowing his pride, "I've just had a cluttered mind lately, but I think I have it sorted out now. Thank you, Mr. Davis." He shoved Captain Corelli's Mandolin into his backpack and strode out of the classroom, leaving behind a highly confused Mr. Davis.
