[ 17 ] Drunken words are sober thoughts

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• C H A P T E R

S E V E N T E E N •

My heart freezes once my eyes land on a particular figure. Roosevelt High is a huge school wherein, the chances of you running into a hall monitor are quite low.

"No. . .no. . .not again," Dean mutters anxiously, shielding his face.

The hall monitor throws Dean and I a glower once he halts mid-stride in front of us.

"Where are your hall passes?" he queries in a strict tone.

Neither of us take the initiative to respond as we both remain silent.

"Answer my question, now." the middle-aged man demands impatiently.

"Um. . .uh. . ." I stutter like a complete idiot since it appears that I've lost the ability to speak.

"You two leave me no choice, head to the principal's office." he orders before pointing his index finger towards Dean, "If I catch you in these halls while lessons are in progress again, I'll personally see to it that you get expelled." he then rotates before strolling towards another direction.

A choleric expression is plastered across Dean's face once my eyes trail up to meet his gaze.

"This is all your fault,"

"How is this my fault exactly?" I deadpan.

He narrows his eyes. "If you would have just gone to the library to do your fucking studies instead of agreeing to skip class with us, none of this would have happened."

As the words roll out of his tongue, all I want to do is punch him in the face.

"Do you know how stupid you sound right now?"

Before I can elaborate, he shoves me against a nearest locker as he rests his hand on the side of my head, completely cornering me. There's not more than a few inches separating us and my traitorous heart speeds up due to our intimate position.

"Don't provoke me, bitch." he implies darkly, his eyes practically grilling my skull.

My spine stiffens a little but I manage to fixate him with an unblinking stare. "I've been called worst you moron."

He knits his eyebrows. "Oh really, what?"

With a weak smile on my face, I inch closer to whisper in his ears. "Your girlfriend."

There's so much heat between us almost as if we're the only two people in the world. We lock each other's gaze in a time-stilling moment.

Expecting him to regard me with one of his signature cold glares, a smirk creeps onto his face. "Please, you and I both know that you wish it were truly like that."

My face morphs into a malicious glare at his unexpected words.

I wish I could just make him feel all the pain he's made me feel.

"Touched a nerve didn't I?" he gives me a superior look, his eyes scanning me.

With an unreadable expression plastered on my face, I pretend that I'm not even the slightest  bit affected by his words. "Fuck you,"

He quirks an eyebrow. "Is that a suggestion?"

If looks could kill, Dean's corpse would have been found in the hallway.

The electricity between Dean and I diminishes once we hear the distant voice of Quentin

"Hey, didn't I tell you two to go to the principal's office?"

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