I’m sitting next to a boy with blue eyes; I don’t know who he is or why I’m dreaming about him. I don’t see his entire face but he feels familiar to me, the way he makes me feel is not something I completely understand. I almost feel scared and want to get away from him. He grazes my cheek with his middle knuckle which causes me to cringe; it feels like a thousand spiders crawling all over my body. I’m uncomfortable and want to scream as he leans in and whispers in my ear
“You will remember me and when you do you will realize that you belong to me.” I wish I knew who this boy was and why he is plaguing my dreams. “Who are you?’ I ask but I wake up before he answers,
“Willow Johnson” I hear “Are you going to join us or are you just going to daydream your life away? The entire class erupts into laughter and I’m sure my face has turned an ugly shade of red. I try to hide my embarrassment by hiding behind my long blond hair but that is a tough thing to do when you have a 6’2 pissed off U.S. History teacher glaring at you.
“Um, I’m” I clear my throat “I’m sorry Mr. Thompson.
“Now that you have decided to join us the question was, “how did America get involved in World War II?’” He gives me a smug look as he waits for my answer. It was a good thing I knew the answer or I would look completely foolish but I wanted to do something to put this jerk in his place.
“In December 1941 the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor, which in turn led the Americans to join in the war which was started because some crazy psycho was on a major power trip.” I throw the same smug look back at Mr. Thompson and I heard a male cough something that sounded like “It’s about time.” This was going to get me detention and my parents getting called but what would they care.
I look over my shoulder to see who a cough came from, when I look I see a gorgeous guy with brown spiky hair, he is wearing a black leather jacket, a Nickelback T-shirt and black faded jeans followed by black rider boots. My inner conscience screams ’he is trouble and to steer clear from him.’ I shake my head in hopes to clear my lusty thoughts. As I’m about to turn around and face my verbal berating, he turns his dark but warm chocolate eyes lock with mine, I can’t move, I can’t look away, it’s as if this boy can see my deepest darkest secrets. Oh, I hope not.
“Miss Johnson!” I hear Mr. Thompson say loudly and I’m forced to look away.
“Yes.” I know he is pissed since his face is beating a fiery red, and his eyes tell stories about his hatred towards me. It’s no big secret that he despises me since I’m the only one who has the guts to put this over egotistical nit wit on a power trip in his place.
“Get your stuff and get out of my classroom now!” He fumes. “Don’t come until you are ready to listen and stop acting like a spoiled brat.” I put my notebook in my bag, stand up and as I leave the class I sneak another glance at the dark boy in question, he is looking back with an all knowing smirk, what is that about? The rest of the day I’m stuck with thoughts of the brown eyed boy.