Better Off

3

Chemistry is my last class of the day. I can't say that I like it, but it's not like I hate it. There are pros and cons to it. Pro: it's the last class of the day. Con: it's chemistry. Pro: we hardly ever do actual work. Con: I have gym right before chem, so I'm always sweaty in class afterwards.

I fall into my seat with these thoughts swimming through my mind, dropping my binder and pencil on my desk without much thought. I pull my dark brown hair back into a high ponytail to get it out of my face, realizing that I need air. Today we had to do the mile run in gym, which isn't fair considering we literally had conditioning the day before. It's a miracle that I even managed to change back into my regular clothes, consisting of a dull t-shirt and ripped jeans.

Mr. Musgraves hasn't started class yet—he's still out in the hallway—so I decide to lay my head down for a moment. I don't notice that I've drifted off until I feel the tap on my shoulder, rudely awakening me from my well-deserved nap.

Startled, I jerk my head up so fast I hit my head on the table behind me. I wince, rubbing the sore spot that's just formed on the back of my head. From the direction I felt the tap I hear a loud laugh, irritating me. Good to know someone finds my pain funny.

I glance up, taking the person in. I recognize the messy dark hair and startingly green eyes immediately. Thorne.

"This seat taken?" he asks, noticing me looking at him. He gestures to the empty desk next to me as he speaks, waiting for me to answer.

I don't know what to say. It's not like I want him to sit next to me. But it's not like I can really lie, either. I mean, he can clearly see that the seat next to me is not taken.

"Uh, n-no," I somehow manage to stutter. In response, Thorne drops his things to the ground next to the desk, falling into the seat roughly.

"That was a pretty hard hit," he says, turning those green eyes on me again. It's hard to even think when this boy is looking at me. I'm the invisible girl. I always have been. People don't pay this much attention to me, especially not people of the opposite gender! And it's not just the fact that he's looking at me that freaks me out; it's the way he's looking at me. Like he can see through all my walls and covers. It's scary, in a way.

"Um, what?" I choke the words out, unsure of what it was he just said. Thorne leans back in his seat, chuckling, still looking at me.

"When you hit your head," he says slowly. "Looked like it hurt."

I raise my eyebrows, pressing my lips together. "Is that why you laughed?" I'm shocked that the words even made it all the way out of my mouth once they formed in my mind. I am not the kind of girl who gives people sarcastic retorts. Still, I said it. And the smile that Thorne gives me after I do makes me believe I'd say it again if I had to.

"Touché," he mutters with a slight nod. It falls silent between us, so I go back to looking down at my unopened notebook. Still, I can feel his eyes on me, burning through my flesh. It's still unsettling to me, how he can make it seem like he knows everything about me with just one look.