Merrin and Marcus

"The way he dresses, he could be a model. He pulls off our hideous school uniform so well. Sleeves rolled up, tie half undone. Pant hems dragging on the floor and shoes scuffed. Hair, styled, yet messy. Looking scruffy, but in a gallant, knightly kind of way.
Mr Popular.
But, when I passed him in the hall, our eyes connected for just a tiny second. And in that one, tiny second, I saw it all."

I blend in. Some might call me a 'wall-flower.' I watch others, as they are oblivious to me. There is only one person that I wish would notice me. Him. We are together, in a way, but, . . . apart.
And when he does notice me, I'm NOT ready for it.

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3. Entry 18

Entry 18

Sitting in Biology by myself again today. Right up the back, in my usual seat. Had all my textbooks out, piled up on the desk. The teacher was giving a lecture on mitosis and meiosis. At the start of the lesson, I was diligently taking notes, but with fifteen minutes to go, I was starting to slack off a bit.

He was usually in my class, but today he wasn’t here.

He sits at the front, left hand side desk. I watch his back; the way his hair curls at the nape of his neck, the way his shirt sits on his shoulders. I love rainy days, because; then the shirt is see-through. Then I can see the scar, just below his right shoulder blade. I wonder to myself how it happened.

That is how I spend most of my lesson, if I’m not taking notes. Studying him.

But he wasn’t there today.

Ten minutes to go, there’s a knock on the door. The teacher is cut off, mid-sentence. Beetle eyebrows drawn together, he walks across the room and reefs open the door.

It’s him. He’s here.

He strides to his table, confident as can be. Like he owns the place. He sits down on a stool, long legs folding up neatly under the table.

But something’s wrong. Even from here, I can smell it.

He reeks of smoke.

The person sitting next to him wrinkles their nose, and someone up the back, behind me, coughs loudly. He turns around, beautiful green eyes hard and searching. Before he faces the front, he looks at me.

I think I might have imagined it, but I hope not.

 When he looks at me, his eyes soften ever so slightly.

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