Me & The 2 Bad Boys

Chapter 6

Essel’s Pov

After walking for ten minutes, I finally reach the school just in time for the bell to ring. I hurry towards the senior hallway, bustling with students gathered around their lockers, pulling out books for the day ahead. Fortunately, the girl I’m eager to see is waiting by my locker, absorbed in her phone as I make my way over.

“Hey Liz,” I greet her, slightly winded from the stairs I just climbed.

She looks up, her eyes filled with curiosity, likely wondering what happened to me yesterday after she left. I enter the combination for my locker, and it clicks open. Inside, I find most of my books and my pencil case, which I’m relieved I didn’t forget at home. However, what really catches my attention is a small folded note tucked away in the corner, likely slipped through the gaps of the locker door.

"Hey, how are you doing?" she asks, her concern evident.

"Honestly, aside from being without a home, I'm managing," I reply, forcing a smile as I reach for the note.

She leans against the locker behind her, "I can only imagine how tough that must be. If you ever need anything, just let me know."

My forced smile shifts to a more genuine one, "Come on, don’t get all sentimental on me. I’m fine, really. No need to worry." I wave my hand dismissively, trying to downplay the situation, even though it weighs heavily on my mind.

Where will we go once our time at the Parker's is up? How will we find money? When will life feel normal again? Pushing those thoughts aside, I glance down at the small, crumpled piece of paper in my hand. Scrawled in messy handwriting is a note that says:

Hey, Essel. Want to come to my party tonight? It starts at 8pm.

BL10 Yemoh Street.

Feel free to invite as many friends as you wish.

- Pascal

Well, these last twenty-four hours have been quite unusual, but I never expected things to get this bizarre. The best way to describe Pascal is as the quintessential golden boy—he's got the looks, the charm, and he's incredibly athletic. I doubt there's a successful sports team in our school that doesn't take pride in having him as a member.

What makes this situation even stranger is that I hardly know him. If my memory serves me right, we were lab partners for a semester a few years back, but he hardly said a word, and I certainly didn't initiate any conversations beyond our chemistry assignments. So, what could have prompted him to invite me out of the blue?

"Liz, take a look at this," I say as I pass her the note.

After quickly scanning it, her puzzled expression mirrors my own.

"How long have you been friends with Pascal?" she inquires, her gaze still fixed on the writing.

I shrug, "Honestly, not at all."

"Really?" Her eyes lift to mine, curiosity evident on her face. "Are you going?"

"Not a chance. My dad would never allow it; you know how he is," I respond, grabbing the paper from her and tossing it back into my locker.

"Mhm," she replies, likely understanding my father's strict nature.

I glance at my planner, noting that I have Math, Biology, Chemistry, and finally English. I gather the necessary folders, but when I see my yellow English folder, I remember that Tristen is in that class too.

"But," she pauses until she has my full attention. "You could always use the excuse that you're staying at Liz's place, right?" Her eyebrow raises, prompting a laugh from me.

"Would you come along?"

"Any reason to escape the house," she replies, making me chuckle even more.

"If I had a home like yours, I'd be perfectly content staying in."

She responds, but my attention is drawn to something in my peripheral vision. Naturally, it’s Tristen, and I can easily pick him out from the crowd. He’s with his friends, Ray and Jake, sharing a laugh, completely unaware of the girls who are watching them. Just as I’m about to turn away, our eyes lock. His are framed by a few lines from the infectious smile he wears. I’m the first to break the gaze, still annoyed by his rude comment from this morning. It’s best if I keep my distance from him.

Even though I have to share a space with him for now, I won’t let those striking eyes, that chiseled jaw, or that muscular, Dorito-shaped back distract me... stop!

The school day goes by quicker than I anticipated, and suddenly, the bell for the final lesson rings. As I make my way through the hallways, I head towards the languages department. When I enter Mr. Kafui's English classroom, I immediately notice Tristen's presence; he’s in the same class as me. He’s the first person I see, sitting in the far left corner at the back, with Ray in front of him and Jake beside him. His arms are crossed on his desk as he gazes out the window to his left, watching the lower year students practicing on the football fields in the distance.

I lower my gaze to the floor, as I usually do to avoid making eye contact with anyone. After navigating around a few desks, I finally reach my assigned seat in the middle of the room and drop my bag next to the table leg. As I settle into my seat, I can feel someone’s eyes on the back of my head. In a discreet attempt to see who it is, I lean down to unzip my bag, quickly glancing back. Tristen is looking right at me.

I quickly turn my attention back to my bag, grabbing a few items while trying to suppress the quickening of my heartbeat. I pull out a black pen from my pencil case and open my planner to the first blank page, starting to doodle random lines to keep myself occupied until Mr. Kafui arrives. He struggles through the door, balancing a stack of folders in one hand and his briefcase in the other. After placing everything on the table, he claps his hands together to quiet the chatter in the classroom.

"Quiet, please!" he calls out, and a calmness envelops the classroom.

English is the only subject that truly resonates with me. Yet today, I reluctantly acknowledge that Tristen's presence behind me is quite distracting.

"Please turn to the section we left off at in Romeo and Juliet yesterday," he directs us while erasing black pen marks from the whiteboard with an eraser.

I open my folder and pull out my Romeo and Juliet book from the plastic sleeve at the front, flipping to the right page before resting my chin on my palm. I feel an odd urge to look back at Tristen again, but I resist.

"Alright, Angela, you can start us off," Mr. Kafui instructs the girl in front of me, and she begins to read.

Even though I struggle to grasp the language of Romeo and Juliet and often feel lost in the story, it saddens me to think about its tragic ending. If only I could find my own Romeo, but instead of facing a fate of miscommunication, we would live happily ever after.

Essel, pay attention!

"Thank you, Angela," Mr. Kafui interrupts the girl, halting her reading. It dawns on me that I've completely zoned out, missing two entire pages as I drifted off in my thoughts. The teacher scans the classroom for another volunteer before his gaze settles on someone seated behind me. "Tristen, it's your turn to read."

Every head in the room, including mine, swivels to face him as he sits up straight in his chair and clears his throat. For just a brief moment, our eyes connect, but he quickly shifts his focus back to the book in his hands.

"O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night, like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear; beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows, as yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand, and, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand.

Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night."

I admit that in the past, I’ve admired him from a distance, primarily because of his striking appearance. However, after actually meeting and conversing with him, I find his voice even more captivating, leaving me eager to hear him read on. His voice, while deep, carries a husky softness that is truly delightful to listen to.

"Thank you, Tristen." Mr. Kafui interrupts him before he can say anything more, which disappoints me.

You might think poorly of me for this, but I can’t help it. I glance back one more time and lock eyes with him. The moment our gazes meet makes my heart race just a bit faster.