3. A week is short. Or not
1186 Words
It had been a week. A week set like a Swiss cuckoo clock. Lessons. Eat at a café. Lessons. Home.
No Erwan.
Or glimpsed from afar in the shadow of a blond giant and incidental brother of the school nurse.
An almost normal week.
With my tray in my hands, I looked for a free place, preferably far from everyone.
I finally found the perfect spot, the only problem being that I had to pass Koran and his gang of psychopaths.
And a certain boy with dark eyes.
Too bad.
I squared my shoulders, staring at an invisible spot in the middle of the back wall.
Even hyper-concentrated on my I’m ignoring you task, I couldn’t help but glance at a giggling female. The sort of girl who shouts when you give a hickey on her neck... “Oh, you shouldn’t... but go ahead”.
The girl in question had blond-coloured hair that certainly had a three-digit number and a letter for the shade.
She was on Erwan’s lap, rubbing her D-cups—yes, for me, Mother Nature never came close to giving so generously—on Erwan’s torso.
It was stronger than me. I rolled my eyes. Barely past the performing couple, my phone beeps as it receives a text message. I stiffened, keeping myself from looking at Erwan and D-cups.
Once at the table, I took the phone out of my bag. A message from Jamie.
After the terrible intervention of Erwan in my personal affairs, I was eager to send a text to my ex—not brave enough to explain verbally—and explain to him that it was just a high school p*****t who stole my cell phone to scare him while making my life miserable at the same time.
“Hi B.
I’m going to see a movie tonight. You too? A bit like going together...
Jamie”
I smile despite myself while reading the message. The kind of silly thing that the very romantic Jamie loved.
Suddenly, a furious hiccup made me raise my head. The fake blond found her buttocks on the floor and Erwan stood up, looking very upset.
He was not staring at D-cup, but at me. Or more precisely, my phone. I know I shouldn’t have rushed it into my bag.
The gesture gave me a guilty look. But guilty of what, damn it?! I wasn’t going out with Erwan. What did he care if I got texts from another guy?
As he was about to rush towards my table, Koran caught him by grabbing his arm at the level of his bicep.
The blond giant whispered something in his ear. It can’t be said that this seemed to please Erwan, who broke free. He nodded with difficulty before sitting down again.
D-cup tried to coax her way back to his knees, but he sent her away like one who shoos a fly. Exasperated, she sat down in the chair, giving me a hateful look.
My salad suddenly had the flavour of paper. I couldn’t help but peek at the famous Bhrean table while chewing on my meal. Erwan’s back was stiff, as if he was still unsettled.
Gina massaged Koran’s shoulders, who acted as if so much attention was normal.
A blond, quite thin, stared at me with interest. He was wearing a white shirt and vintage black jeans; this 50s bad-boy look was different from his friends. As he looked at me, he leaned over the table to talk to Erwan. After that, Erwan seemed to relax and laugh.
The 50s bad boy gave me an amused wink before immersing himself in a paperback.
I had finished my tray but was reluctant to pass their table again. Taking my courage in both hands, I put my bag on my shoulder before grabbing the tray and walking as naturally as possible.
Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him. Don’t…
Someone pinched my butt pretty hard. I uttered an indignant cry.
“I’m a big fan of your little ass, Baby.”
I glared at Erwan, who was smiling at me. His smile didn’t reach his strangely tormented eyes. As I was moving away, I heard a chair scraping the floor.
“Err!” Koran said, as a warning behind my back.
“It’s good...” he growled. “I’m relaxed.”
Keep walking. Keep walking. Keep...
A warm breath on my neck gave me a series of shivers. I almost spilt my tray when two hands grabbed my waist.
“Damn! I can almost encircle your waist with my paws!” Erwan chuckled.
“But why do you keep doing these things, Erwan?” I thought my voice was a little too sharp. Slightly hysterical too.
“I ask myself the same question. If you find the answer, text me,” whispered the young man in my ear, while he was still behind me.
“Let me go before D-cup has the desire to kill me,” I mumbled, trying to push him away.
“And she turns me on...” whispered Erwan with a muffled laugh.
My cheeks started changing colour.
“I’m just trying to get away from you, you.”
“I know, Baby. I can smell innocence from miles away,” purred the young man, sticking his chest to my back.
“Let me go, will you?”
I was begging him. Shame. I looked down at my tray. My cheeks were burning.
Which annoyed me tremendously.
Erwan shrugged.
Today he had put on a white T-shirt with black jeans. He still smelled of the forest, but also a slightly masculine scent. Not the kind that stings your nose. No, a discreet and manly fragrance.
“It seems Baby has never been inflamed by the moon. Yet she’s terribly close,” he says with an enigmatic smile.
“And your girlfriend? Not sure she’ll like it.”
His smile widens.
“That’s for sure.”
Any other guy would have denied it and would have come up with something like “No, she doesn’t care... It’s not what you think”.
But not Erwan.
“Are you jealous, Baby?”
I glared at him.
“What’s wrong with you? No!”
He burst out laughing, his dark eyes sparkling. It seemed that his good mood had returned.
“Mr Granit and Miss Barrem!” said Mrs Ferwink, my French teacher. “I’ve ordered you to stop four times!”
I pulled away from Erwan. He stared intently at me, and his dark eyes almost set me on fire.
He ran his tongue over his lips, like someone who would still like to continue eating the delicious dish he had just finished.
“Both in detention!” said the professor, red with anger.
“I don’t think so,” Erwan said, without looking at her.
“What?” Mrs Ferwink almost yelled.
“We don’t deserve detention for this,” said the young man in a gentle voice.
Mrs Ferwink choked with indignation in her horrible blue-flowered dress. She turned her back on us and furiously walked away.
- Writer
