Swipe Right

8| I could kill you

Staring at Heath Myers is kind of like entering a time warp. One minute I'm thinking about how blue his eyes are and what our kids might look like if only he were aware of my existence. The next thing I know, an hour has passed and Mr. Gregor's already talking about the homework.

I let out a yawn before looking at Jax, something I haven't done in forever. I've gotten so good at pretending he doesn't exist outside of E.C, that it's strange to see him sitting there. He's leant back in his chair with his legs outstretched and a pencil in each hand. Whenever Mr. Gregor has his back to the class, Jax quietly taps out a rhythm on his jeans.

He looks good. Effortlessly good. Like he's just rolled out of bed but somehow still looks like a guy from a hair commercial. How come boys can always do that? How come they can just wake up and still look relatively normal? When I roll out of bed, it's with frizzy curls and dried slobber on my chin.

Jennifer Harland sits three desks away. Every time I look at Heath, it's like she can sense it. Her green eyes narrow, and she flicks back her long blonde hair in some kind of predatory warning.

I sneak another look in his direction, but my eyes somehow gravitate back toward Jax. God, why am I even thinking about him right now? What is wrong with me today?

I turn up my Medusa stare. I hate you, I think. Jax turns as though able to hear me. He stops drumming for a second. His eyes narrow. I hate you, they read. The balance is restored.

I return to staring at the back of Heath's head. Even though Heath is a football player and should be your typical jock, he's not. He's always polite, for one. He's opened the door for me on many occasions, even if he can't remember who I am. One time, when Jennifer told me my curls look like noodles, Heath demanded she apologize for being so rude. Yet another reason why someone like Jennifer does not deserve someone like Heath.

RJ sits tucked away in the corner of the classroom, staring at his hands. If he wasn't so quiet, I think he'd have half the girls in Carmel after him. He might not be athletic like Heath or confident like Tariq, but he's got this broody, mysterious thing going for him, like maybe he stays up all night writing poetry. Not to mention the fact he's over six-foot, with clear olive skin and eyes so green, it's hard not to lose yourself in them.

After class, Jax is swept away with all his basketball friends. I pack up my things and link arms with Izobel before heading to next period. In the three minutes it takes us, she's already recommended at least four songs as well as a horror movie. I don't bother to tell her I'm terrified of horrors; she thinks I'm cooler than I actually am, so I intend to keep it that way.

At lunch, she goes and sits with her actual friends. Jenna and I sit on our table by the window, which overlooks the parking lot. If I squint hard enough, I can just make out the outline of the ocean behind all of the flashy cars.

Sometimes, despite my lack of a license, I think about hiring a car and driving until I get tired. Or maybe until I get to a city that I like. Or until I run out of gas. The point is, I want to go somewhere without having a plan. I want to feel the wind in my hair and see nothing but open road; I want to finally do something.

I glance over at Jenna, who is poking at her meal like there's something on her mind. I think about asking her what, but I know I'll only get her generic, 'I'm fine.' Jenna's not one for sharing her feelings.

"There's a meteor shower tonight," I say. "You wanna watch with me?"

She turns and shoots me an apologetic smile, which always means no. "I wish I could, but I already told my mom I'd go Halloween shopping with her tonight."