What the hell is this guy staring at? I looked down at myself. I’m wearing clothes, and they’re on at their correct placements, so it’s not that…I swiped at my face, smoothing the corners of my lips and under my eyes, nope, that’s clean. Feeling confident in my normalness, I gave him a weird look and turned away, deciding that he probably wasn’t staring at me and that I was being paranoid. I secretly glanced behind me, considering for anything out of the ordinary. No, there wasn’t any flying pigs, or meteors. I looked down at my desk, reading the set of instructions my teacher had given us in English class.

Write an essay about whether or not cell phones should be allowed while driving. Explain your reasoning, and use proof.

Ew. I despise essays. I just am incapable of writing them, seriously. Everything I write in those is basic bullshit. God, I hate school.

I sighed, resting my cheek onto my hand, and looked up once again. He’s staring, again! Jesus! I narrowed my eyes, and motioned him to turn around. He’s sitting in front of me, and it’s freaking me out the way he keeps eyeing me like I’m on fire or something. The guy winked, and raised his eyebrows at me before turning around back to his desk and writing something on a piece of paper. Continuing to watch him out of bored curiosity, I blanched when he threw a small balled up piece of paper, and it landed on my desk. I wonder if I can just ignore it. I stared at it, pushing it around my desk with my pencil. Ah, hell, I’m bored anyways. I unfolded it, placidly reading the message within.

Your shirt is transparent.

I gaped at it, and looked down to find that my shirt was indeed was see-through, and my vibrant pink bra was clearly visible through my soft white shirt. Oh, damnit. This always happens. I was too tired this morning to check whether wearing a solid color bra would be detectable through a cotton tee-shirt. And I hate the fact that none of my friends had the kindness to point this lovely detail out to me. Now I know why they were mysteriously snickering into their hands when they saw me this morning. I’d thought that they’d slipped some crack into their coffee or something.

I glared at the wrinkled paper, and irritably scribbled a reply.

I noticed, thanks.

I tossed it back, and it hit the back of his head. He rotated in his chair, staring at me curiously before I jerked my head towards the paper on the ground. He noticed it, and reached for it, grasping it with his fingers. He unfolded it, reading it quickly before sending a knowing smirk towards my chest. I tenaciously crossed my arms in front of my chest, wishing that I hadn’t put my jacket into my locker.

He pretended to pout, however an irritating smirk breaking through, and breaking his teasing persona. This guy is getting on my nerves. I’m going to kick him in the balls or something.

I don’t even know who this guy is. I mean, I know it’s not the beginning of the year, and it makes me look bad for not knowing the names of everybody in my English class, but whatever. So, why am I wasting my time with this guy? I squinted my eyes at him, contemplating it. Well, he wasn’t hideous. I’d give him that. In fact, if I went by another girl’s judging, I’d say he was the hottest guy in the room. But, my life doesn’t revolve around who’s sleeping with whom, who’s the hottest in school and all that petty shit that girls seem to prattle about these days.

I’d rather be outside, riding Tally and taking pictures instead of involving myself with guys. I looked at the guy hostilely, wondering whether he was going to try to ask me out. Guys did that sometimes, thinking me to be a girl who’d screw them.

I’m not going to play stupid and pretend that I don’t know that I’m prettier than your average girl. It’s hard not to notice the perfection of my body, and the fact that my hair always seem in place. My complexion is clear, and I have my mother’s face, wide blue eyes with freakish long eyelashes and auburn hair. My mouth is full, easy to apply red lipstick without looking ridiculous, and I have the dainty maiden look, as I’ve been told.

I don’t hate guys, I have nothing against them. I just have better things to preoccupy my time with than fooling around with one in the backseat of a trashy car. So when a guy focuses his useless attention on me, I tell him up-front that I don’t have any interest. It’s worked so far. I may be pretty, but guys aren’t exactly attracted to disinterest. But still, I’m noticed, and that’s good enough for the girls I qualify as my friends.

The note was on my desk again, I huffed a bit, slightly irked at the realization that I’d been distracted enough in my thoughts to miss it getting there. Deciding that the class still had enough time to bore me, I unfurled it.

Are you playing hard to get?

That’s another reaction I tend to get from my indifference. Sometimes guys will chase after me because of the excitement I apparently offer. It just wastes my energy to tell them otherwise. I let my unresponsiveness talk for me.

I gave the paper no concern, choosing to ignore him, because I’d rather him not getting a crush on me. I had photography next period, and I was determined to get there without being in a bad mood, which was going to be inevitable if this guy kept his harmless banter up. It was giving me a headache.

Checking the clock, I saw that the hands were fast approaching a desirable time. I slowly gathered my notebook and pencil into my backpack, slinging it meticulously over my shoulders. I crumpled the paper into my hand and got up, smoothly tossing the paper into the trash and leaving the room as the bell rang. Hopefully the guy wouldn’t follow.

“Hey! Wait up!” I heard from behind me. I brushed it off as for someone else, and continued my journey to photography class, alone. But my solitude was interrupted when the guy from class trotted up next to me.

I looked at him, raising my eyebrow calmly as I walked. He quieted, looking at me. There was a moment of awkward silence, the memory of what he thought as initiation of friendship, and I thought as a moment’s entertainment, hanging over us. Then he opened his mouth.

“I’m Adam.” He said, a smirk he assumed as flirtatious playing at the corners of his mouth. I nodded, focusing on the crowd of students in front of me instead. Go away…go away. He towered over my 5’6, being around 6’1. I ran my eyes over him quickly. He looked like a rock star, baggy black pants with chains, rings on every finger, and a band t-shirt. Why was he bothering with me? I wasn’t his type.

Adam tried again, his smirk slightly fading. “And you are…?”

I gave up. “Sara.” I answered quietly, still not looking at him.

“Cool. Do you want to call me sometime, and we could go out?” Adam offered, and I stopped in the hallway, much to other students’ dismay.

“Adam?” I said, and the rather attractive blush on his cheeks faded. “I really don’t think that you should bother me anymore. I’m not interested.”

His face hardened, and he nodded, defeated. Huh, I thought he was more confident than that. “I’ll call you.”

What? I looked confused. I’m sorry, didn’t I just reject him?

“No.” I shook my head, “its okay. You should find another girl. I’m not interested.” I repeated, walking faster. He picked up his pace too, and I frowned. Migraine, I can feel it.

Approaching my classroom, I sighed in relief, happy that he couldn’t bother me in there.

“Please go away.” I told him, going the polite route, and went into the classroom. He followed me in there, and I almost threw something. It’s called a clue, get one.

Adam looked at me. “I’m in this class too.” Oh.

I shrugged it off, feeling slightly embarrassed. Hopefully he doesn’t sit near me. I went to my normal seat, berating myself inwardly about not noticing him in my class before.

Adam sat across the room, thankfully, in front of the door of the developing room.

“Okay, guys.” Mr. Bernard, a popular teacher greeted, standing from his desk and passing out digital cameras. “We’re going outside today, and taking pictures of nature. Remember what we learned on Friday, with the shading.”

I thanked Mr. B when I received one, standing up from my chair and following the rest of the class. Once again, since my other peers don’t approach me often, I was alone as I examined the measly trees that surrounded our school. Well, at least, I was.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Adam asked, and I turned to look at him.

“No. I don’t want one either.” I answered, finding a bird’s nest in a tree and focusing on it. I took a picture.

“Are you a lesbian?” Adam questioned, and I lowered my camera, glaring at him.

“Yes.” I replied.

“Really?” He said, surprised.

“No.” I said, and walked away, taking pictures as I went. Surprising enough, there was plenty of subjects in this area. I took a picture of a chipmunk gnawing on an acorn. They’re so cute.

“Then why won’t you go out with me?” Adam appeared by my side. Does this guy ever give up? I massaged my temple, a headache forming.

“I won’t go out with you because I don’t want to.” I answered simply, hoping that he’d get it. No, I don’t want you.

“Oh.” He said, and then smiled at me. “I want you.” Adam told me, and I hate to admit this, but my stomach fluttered when he said that.

“No.” I said automatically, vaguely shaken. “No.”

He advanced towards me, forcing me backwards, until my back pressed against the rough bark of a tree. His dark eyes caught mine, and I froze, feeling like a trapped animal.

Adam leaned down, his black hair brushing his forehead. His silver necklace tickled my face as he neared mine. Finally, when his eyes were an inch away, he spoke again.

“Let me take you out.” He said imposingly. I blinked, and shook my head.

Pressing my hands against his chest, I shoved him away. “Back up, jerk.”

I moved away from the tree, and ran a nervous hand through my hair. This wasn’t good for my nerves. Stay calm.

I stole a glance at him, and saw that he was in front of me. The other kids were farther away, black specs, and the teacher leaning casually against the school, looking away.

I saw Adam noticing this too, and he bent down, pressing his lips to mine. I let him stay there for a second, to feel my lack of response, before pulling away. His lips had been warm, and smooth, and my stomach was full of butterflies.

And to our surprise, I blushed. He raised his camera and took a picture.

There goes my first kiss.

I don't know whether this is an oneshot or not. If it's well-received then I might continue it, if not, then whatever.

Review, please.

-RAR