The real love story


3. The Real Story

crush |krʌʃ|
verb [ with obj. ]
1 deform, pulverize, or force inwards by compressing forcefully: you can crush a pill between two spoons | a labourer was crushed to death by a lorry | (as adj.crushed) : the crushed remains of a Ford Cortina.
• crease or crumple (cloth or paper).
2 violently subdue (opposition or a rebellion): the government had taken elaborate precautions to crush any resistance.
3 make (someone) feel overwhelmingly disappointed or embarrassed: I was crushed—was I not good enough? | (as adj.crushing) : the news came as a crushing blow.
1 [ usu. in sing. ] a crowd of people pressed closely together: a number of youngsters fainted in the crush.
2 informal a brief but intense infatuation for someone: she did have a crush on Dr Russell.
3 [ mass noun ] a drink made from the juice of pressed fruit: lemon crush.
4 (also crush pen )a fenced passage with one narrow end, used for handling cattle or sheep.


I sat down at the table and I felt like I could probably fall asleep at any given moment and drift into an easy sleep right here and right now. I didn't I waited; waited for my best friend, Sam to turn up; he was always late for class. Breezing in stylishly as the teacher drawled his name like the the drone she was. Annoying the hell out of her; and it was the funniest thing ever.

"Sam." Her voice was unmoved and bored by every word that rolled off her snake like tongue; she was about as popular as the devil is in heaven.

"Yes." Sam strolled through the door, the door wavering and quivering from the impact from hitting the wall with a loud bang. "As always."

Miss. Velon grunted, her loud exhale in annoyance echoed through the classroom, "Ivory."

"Yes." I scowled, my parents were drunk when they named me and the only thing they could think of: Ivory.

Sam sniggered, his pestering giggle escaped his tightly pressed lips and I held his gaze feeling my stomach flurry in amusement on what whirred around my head as my common sense and morality beat the idea's from my mind.

Sam sat down dropping his bag with a thud against the plastic floors, people to busy chewing gum and laughing, criticizing being them to each other to notice. I wasn't unpopular, bullied or anything like that; I was normal and nobody really cared what I did. Sam too, two ordinary kids hanging out; it was the norm.

"Ivorrrry," he rolled his r delicately trying his best to annoy me, "How arrrre you today?" His posh and very fake British accent erupted in a failed attempt. He was from London well I think that's true. But who talks like that?


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