I stared at the surface of the desk while the teacher rattled off information about black holes and what little we knew about them. All the while, the new guy was awkwardly sat beside me twirling his thumbs nervously for most of her lecture.

By the end, I was expecting some quiet to finally get rid of this panging irritation residing inside me. But the entire class had migrated to my desk to chat up a storm with our infamous transfer student. So not only did I have to deal with this his popularity in the mornings but right before I went home, too.

Great.

I was more than grateful when the teacher disbanded the group. It went quiet for only a little while after, but unfortunately, he was still right next to me. When there's a will, there's a way.

A piece of paper fell onto my desk and I glanced up. A girl, who was glaring at me for some reason, gestured behind me at Donovan. I rolled my eyes and tossed the paper onto his desk. Of course they weren't done talking. What was I thinking?

Donovan frowned at it but opened it up. He leaned toward me. "Why did you give me this?" He whispered. I pointed at the girl who was waving silently at him. He smiled and wrote something back on the paper before handing it back to me. I just pushed it forward without thought. Usually, it was better to just play along than to try and ignore it.

The teacher was strict, but not the most observant person I'd ever met. Suffice to say those two continued to exchange notes for the remainder of the class period. I barely got any work done and my notes were definitely missing a few important details. As soon as the bell rang I was on my feet and shoving my papers into my desk.

"No way, your brother really did that?" Donovan asked, handing the girl back her paper with his usual smile. 

She giggled. "Yup. He was grounded for weeks!"

"If I did that, I think my parents would just castrate me." He joked, then turned to me. "Thanks for the notes, by the way." I ignored him. "To be honest, I pegged you as the kind of person who would nark on us."

Oh, trust me, it came to mind. I put the last of my things into my bag and turned around.

"Oh, hey!" I heard him, but I kept walking. Why was he so persistent? Consider me an asshole like the rest, already! "Sorry, talk to you later, Sarah."

"Okay." She sounded dejected.

He followed me to the door. "Hey." He tried again, but I still ignored him. "Why don't you talk to me? I don't get it." I stayed quiet. "You can't, like, say hi? Or something?"

"Careful new kid!”

I froze. Stationed in the corner, by the window, was none other than Keith García and his dog, I mean best friend, Marcus Owen. I hated these two. Marcus more, considering we never got along.

Keith was actually the son of my mother's high school best friend. I'd known him literally my entire life. But, as with life, he changed.

I glared at him, ready to see where he was going with all of this.

"He's going to see his boyfriend," Keith said. I expected him to laugh, but he looked pissed instead of amused. Marcus, however, was having a ball.

Donovan frowned. "Uh… boyfriend? As in…"

"He's a fag, West!" Marcus yelped.

A few people, the ones aroused by nostalgia, started snickering. Though, for the most part, everyone was annoyed. Or running to leave the room.

Donovan's lips parted, forming a rather large O shape. "Ah. Are you?" He turned to me for clarification.

I just shrugged and left.

Just for context, no one liked me. Which was the basic answer I could give to why I sat alone at lunch, often went solo on group projects, and failed at making friends. So you could imagine my surprise when this boy, who I'd known for exactly eight class periods, ran after me.

Romantic? - Maybe. If you've already established the story, but mine is anything but.

"Hey!" He kept calling and following me like a lost puppy. "Hey!"

He caught my bag. In pure annoyance, I ripped it right out of his grip. People moved to the side as every single one of my books and papers scattered the floor.

I held the damaged bag in my hands, staring at it.

Goddamnit!

"S-sorry… just-"

"Fuck off!" Why was he so damn persistent? On today of all days!

He stepped back. "Uh… well, I wanted to say-"

"What is wrong with you?" I demanded. People started snickering, moving away from us. A few stayed to watch the show. "I obviously don't want to talk to you."

He glanced around at the audience. "Didn't mean to piss you off. Sorry."

I glared at him. Was he expecting to play this off? Normally I didn't care about the sheep opinion of my classmates, but I felt like venting. And there he was, already pushing me. Practically begging to become a target. “You ran after me, right. You a fag?”

He flinched, taken back by what I’d said. “Wow.” He scoffed. “I was just trying to get to know my classmates and it looked like that guy was harassing you. Sorry.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Fine.”

I snatched my bag from him, holding onto the bottom. I took maybe ten steps before snapping back around. “Stop following me!”

He snapped. “My car is parked in the lot, asshole.”

Silence.

“Oh.”

He pushed passed me, bumping into my shoulder. “And for the record, prick, I don’t think being gay is wrong.”