I cringe.
Yeah, I actually am observing you.
Who even says that?
Some students begin to leave the field, the class being over for the day. I’m still seated on the bleachers, alone. The girls have left, but their surprised thoughts and expressions remain.
I look out at the field, where June and a few others are packing up.
The sun is starting to set. I’ve been here for an hour and a half, just sitting, watching.
Yeah, I actually am observing you.
I bury my face into my hands, groaning. Why did I say that? That’s so embarrassing and stupid. That’s not like me, so why? I should just leave now.
I raise my head at the sound of feet stomping on the bleachers. It’s June. He’s jogging up the stairs, his hair bouncing up and down with every step. Okay, maybe he does have soft hair. It looks soft.
I shake my head. No, don’t think that. I should’ve been home by now. I should’ve—
June looks up and we make eye contact. His are void of emotion, and for a second, it feels as thought he’s staring right through me; as if he can read my mind. I don’t like this. Is this what I look like? I hope not. That’s an intimidating look.
I can’t even read his thoughts, which makes things all the more trickier.
When he reaches me, he grins, but it seems forced. “Hey,” he says.
“Hi,” I mumble. This is so awkward.
“So...” He scratches the back of his head. “You actually stayed behind.”
I shrug, looking away. “Well, you said I should.”
When I said I was observing him, he told me to stay behind, claiming today’s the only time he’s free. I didn’t really get the chance to say anything because a second later, he was called by some students to start the class again. It was awkward, very awkward, especially when I had to sit for half an hour listening to the girls’ whining—both in their minds and to each other. They didn’t talk to me though, I don’t know why.
June takes a seat beside me. “It was a suggestion,” he says, pouting. “You didn’t need to stay.”
“Oh.” I purse my lips. “Well, it’s over now,” I say, looking at him. “At least I don’t have to worry about not finishing it by next class.”
That’s not true. I didn’t take a single note down.
“Oh, really? That’s great! Can I see your notes?”
“Huh?”
He points at my notebook. “Your observation notes. You were writing in there the whole time.”
He was watching?
“Umm, I don’t think that’s a good idea...” I look away from him. “It’s just my exercise points, nothing interesting, really.”
“But you wrote about me, didn’t you?” He raises an eyebrow. “I’m sure they’re not that bad.”
I purse my lips, not replying. Instead, I look up at the darkening sky. “Oh, wow. Look at the sky, it sure is getting dark.” I stand up. “I better go now, thank you for letting me obs—hey!”
He grabs my arm, but quickly lets go. He looks uncomfortable. ”Sorry but, I just want to know what you wrote about me.”
I sigh. He has a point. Anyone would be curious to see what others have written about them. Defeat has never tasted to so sour. “I didn’t write anything,” I eventually say.
“What do you mean?”
I give him a deadpanned look. “It means, I didn’t write anything about you.”
He crosses his arms. “Okay, then show me your book.”
“What? No.”
“If you haven’t written anything, you wouldn’t mind me seeing it.”
I scowl. “It has nothing to do with that. I like my privacy, that’s all.” If he sees what I was did in there, it’s over for me.
“Bullshit, give me the book.” He reaches out and tries to snatch the book, but my hold on it is tight. “I know you wrote something about me in there.”
He grabs the book and tugs towards him, and I almost, almost, trip, but my hold on it doesn’t loosen. “What is wrong with you?” I pull it towards me. “Let go!”
“Never.”
And that is how we spend the next minute: yelling and tugging my notebook back and forth between each other.
“Seriously, let go!”
“Seriously, no.”
One hand gripping the book, I latch my other onto one of his hands, pulling his fingers back. But he doesn’t budge.
Instead, he grabs my hand and pulls me forward. “Stop,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.
His stare is dark. He looks like he’s had enough of me. “I just want to see.”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Why not? Did you write something embarrassing about me? It’s okay if you did, I won’t judge.”
I did. I did write something embarrassing, but not about him. No way in hell would I do that. That’s inappropriate.
“No!” I pull the book towards me, but suddenly, it seems like time slows down when he pushes me away, because I let go of the book and fall on the ground.
I land with a thud. Ow. My backside stings. I glare up at him. Did he need to push me?
He barely glance at me, walking away as he flicks through the book.
My chest tightens. I can’t let him see it. Jumping to feet, I chase after him. “Hey! Honestly, I didn’t write anything about you. I’m not even observi—”
He lets out a sudden laugh.
My body freezes.
“What the fuck is this?” He turns to me.
I flinch, my cheeks burning, and let out an embarrassed breath. “Nothing, give it to me.”
I try to snatch my notebook out of his hands but he only raises it in the air.
There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes. “That’s the same thing she said in here.”
“Stop!” I groan.
“Again, that’s what—”
“Oh my god! Just give it back!” My hands grab onto his raised arm, nails digging into his skin. I jump up to reach the notebook, but he raises it higher.
“His fingers trace the skin of my inner thigh, climbing higher until they—’”
“No!”
Before I know it, my hands latch onto the sides of his face, and I force him to look at me. “June, stop.”
He freezes. Good.
“I want you to give me back my notebook. And after you do, go home and forget you ever met me, okay?”
I don’t like doing this. I don’t like doing this. I’ve only made one person forget and the outcome was horrendous, but—
“What are you trying to pull?”
I blink. “What?”
June frowns, grabbing my hands and lowering them from his face. He lets go. “What were you trying to do?”
Wait, what?
What? What, what, what?
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