Chapter 9: Chapter Eight

Mr. Herberg made me switch seats with the guy who sat next to Spencer, because we were going to finally start on the first step of our building a family assignment thing.

"Don't worry, I'm only gonna make you sit with your partner once a week," he reassured us. "We're just going to discuss about the assignment with your partner."

So I sat down next to Spencer, and he looked up with a boyish grin on his face. "Hello."

"Hi," I said, smiling back.

"No one's getting engaged today yet," Mr. Herberg said, and both of us turned our focus to the young teacher. "I'm going to determine your fates; your supposed ages, your jobs and incomes, your family background, stuff like that. One of each pairs, please come up here to pick your fate from here."

He gestured to the giant glass bowl on his desk, filled with a bunch of folded papers. We were supposed to pick one randomly, just like how Effie Trinket picked out the names of the tributes for The Hunger Games.

"You or me?" Spencer asked, and I shrugged. "Alright. I'll go."

A minute later, he came back with two pieces of paper; one yellow colored and one green. "Pick one," he told me

I picked up the yellow one. "Thanks."

We both unfolded our papers and I scanned through the paper that supposedly held my "fate"; I was twenty-six, an English teacher with a moderate income, and I came from a divorced family, with me living only with my dad and little sister, but I was going to move out once I got engaged. It held some other information, but I skipped through them.

Spencer and I looked up at the same time, with a matching amused smile on our faces. I recited what I had just read to him, and then asked, "What about you?"

"I'm twenty-nine, a CEO in a big company, and I was adopted by a wealthy family who own the said company," he told me. "Not bad, eh?"

"I wonder what's the story behind our first encounter. I mean, how does a CEO fall in love with an English teacher?" I mused, and he let out a chuckle.

"Okay, now that everyone has read their own papers, here's the first assignment for the project: make up a story of how you met your partner. You can discuss it now and work on the story through this week, and you'll have to collect it next Friday."

Today was Friday, so we'd got seven days to work on our story.

"You may write it down on a paper or type and print it. I know this isn't a creative writing class, but please be as creative as possible, alright? I'm not gonna comment on your writing style—I just want to see you guys cooperate with your partners and decide where your stories start. Understood?"

We echoed the word, and Mr. Herberg sat down in satisfaction. "You may start working now. I'll be at my desk right here if you need me."

So Spencer and I sat facing each other, and I dug into my bag to get my notebook and pen. "So... how did we meet?"

"Hmm," he hummed, deep in thought. "Maybe your sister works in my company?"

I stared at him flatly. "My sister is fifteen years old," I told him, holding out the paper, and then chuckled. "Maybe we met in some restaurant and bump into each other and have some cliché moment or whatever?"

It was his turn to chuckle. "I have a feeling that my character only goes to high-end fancy restaurants. Is it likely that we would meet there?" he asked, but then he said, "Speaking of restaurants, did you know that I've started working at the diner since two days ago?"

My eyes widened in surprise and I broke out into a grin. "Really? That's good for you!"

He nodded, seeming enthusiastic. "Yeah, I was so glad when Mr. Taylors gave me a call—he's your dad, right?"

I nodded, still feeling the excitement that radiated off of him. "I didn't see you, though. I stopped by the restaurant yesterday," I asked in slight confusion. The only person that I saw working yesterday was... Jonah Gibbs, who had made me the most heavenly cup of green tea latte I'd ever tasted with a pretty latte art on it.

"Oh, you must've come right after school ended. I work night shifts, because I have some basketball practice a few times in a week after school," he said, and only then that I remembered that Spencer was in the basketball team. "It was a bit of a tough work because my shift is during the peak hour, but I was so glad that I got hired."

"Well, I'm happy for you," I said with a smile. "I'll make sure to stop by during your shift some time."

He laughed. "You don't have to."

"Maybe I will," I said, tilting my head to the side. "After all, we're going to start a family, right?"

"Right, how could I forget?" he said mock-exasperatedly, but then he joined in on my train of chuckles. "But seriously, though. How did we meet?"

"Okay, maybe you... umm," I thought for a while. "Maybe you have a young cousin or a little niece or nephew who goes to the school where I work at? And then during one of the parent-teacher meeting, their parent—your sibling—couldn't come and you had to come instead and then met me during the meeting?"

"Huh, not bad," he said, his head moving up and down in agreement. "Alright, so I have a cute little niece named Honey who goes to your school, and my brother and his wife somehow can't attend the meeting, and then I meet you—because you're Honey's homeroom teacher—and then we just kinda hit it off?"

An amused smile played on my lips. "Why Honey?"

He rolled his eyes at me good-naturedly. "Why not Honey? I've always wanted a niece named Honey. I made my sister swear that she will name one of her kids Honey."

I laughed and shook my head. "You're really weird, Spencer."

"Aren't I?" he said, grinning. "Okay, but our story still seems a bit too ordinary. Why not think of some plot twist?"

So we spent the rest of the period creating a story of how an ordinary English teacher somehow met this hotshot of a CEO like we were co-authoring a lame adult novel. Except, we kept it PG rated, because we didn't need another sequel of Fifty Shades of Grey on the stands.

[]

Contrary to popular belief, Jonah Gibbs wasn't a "bad boy", so I didn't understand why freshman kids cowered at the sight of him when he wasn't even doing anything but stand in their way.

He wasn't even glaring at them or anything—I guess I was the only one who got the privilege of having those eyes staring hard at me. He just kind of stood there—and to the kids' defense, Jonah was the one who blocked their way—without giving off any kind of reaction, but then the kids' faces paled and they just ran away as if they were in dire need to go to the restroom because they were about to piss in their pants.

I mean, what did they think Jonah was gonna do? Dumping soda on their hair like he did to me? They didn't need to worry because they didn't have the same level of craziness that I had to piss him off on purpose.

Also, from all the books and movies I'd seen, the term "bad boy" was always associated with these few things: dark, dangerous vibes, rotten behavior, tendencies to act up and do something illegal, and sometimes, intimidating motorbikes, for some reason.

Meanwhile, the only "bad boy quality" that Jonah had was the dark vibe he gave off—and he didn't even seem all that dangerous to be honest. He was far from a slacker—he had perfect attendance, and he did well in his education—I knew because a lot of teachers actually praised him for his good work. Besides, when you think of bad boys, would you imagine them making neat little latte arts in their spare time?

He was just so closed off, and no one had cared enough to take his walls down. No one had bothered enough to wonder why he was the way that he was. Nobody had given enough shit about him before I did.

It was Monday, and the weekend prior to today had gone pretty much uneventful. I spent my time mostly at home, finishing Spencer and I's story, and also having Gina come over with Bey to watch some movies that Leann had left in my drawer.

This morning, though, I had woken up from a bad dream, which left me in a seemingly permanent bad mood—at least for the rest of the day. Usually, nightmares were a normal-ish occurrence for me, and it wouldn't leave me all grumpy and tired. But this particular nightmare had woken me up around three in the morning, and I couldn't fall back asleep because it kept me awake with this endless train of thoughts that I would rather not think of.

I was tired as hell, and no matter how much coffee I had drunk on the way to school, the grumpiness never left. Physically, I was worn out due to lack of sleep. Emotionally, the nightmare had disturbed my piece of mind. So basically, I wasn't my usual self today, and I could strangely relate to Jonah's usual do-not-touch-me-or-I-will-kill-you mood because I was actually feeling that way.

"PMS?" Gina asked, and I scowled at her.

"No."

She rolled her eyes. "Then what's got your panties in a twist?"

"I need caffeine," I moaned. "More caffeine."

She sighed. "Please don't tell me you're actually turning into a female Jonah Gibbs."

I moaned again, rubbing my heavy eyes and cursing the mild pain that throbbed on every side of my head. "Will you drive me back home? I really don't feel like learning anything."

"Why didn't you just not go to school?" she asked exasperatedly. "It would save a whole lot of trouble. I can't drive you home because school starts in like, one minute."

Just as she finished her sentence, the bell rang, making the pain in my head intensify. "I hate you so much."

"No you don't. Have fun!" she chirped and waved at me, and I hated her chirpiness so much right now that I didn't even wave back.

I turned around, and guess what, just to put the cherry on top, I bumped into a hard wall of muscle. "Goddammit," I cursed instantly when my books fell to the ground. "Would you watch where you were going?" I spat, crouching down to get my books.

If I had thought that it was a déjà vu to be in this situation—because the same thing had happened with Jonah just last week—then I didn't know what this situation should be called when I looked up and saw Jonah's irritated glare on me again.

You know what? It was almost like he was the one doing this on purpose now.

He didn't offer help, nor did he actually help me out, but he didn't walk away like I'd half-expected him to do. Instead, he just stared as I collected the books that was scattered around his shoes, crouching down as if I was about to kiss his feet.

Remember when I told you that the freshman kids had nothing to worry about when their way accidentally got blocked by Jonah's body? Well, I wasn't a freshman kid, so I actually had something to worry about. Besides, I really did spit at him—not quite literally, but still—and it basically equals me signing my own death sentence.

I pretended not to be bothered by his all-too-familiar harsh glare on me, and kept the scowl on my face fresh for the broody boy who was towering over me. Once I stood up and faced him, I asked moodily, "What?"

"What's got your panties in a twist?" he muttered, his voice laced with dark amusement, which did nothing to help my moody state especially since he had repeated what Gina had said to irritate me.

I actually growled, "Stay out of my way," and then walked past him to get to the classroom.

[]

I didn't even attempt to do anything during Life Skills—which was basically my biggest chance to annoy the shit out of Jonah—and lunch hour was spent in mostly silence as Gina and Bey tried not to aggravate me even more. I'd reassured them that I wasn't about to lash out on them anytime soon, but I guess something on my face had failed to convince them, so they kind of stayed away in case I was gonna blow up like a grenade.

It was Chemistry, which was the second to last period of the day, and by this time, my mood had only slightly lifted. Only slightly—I didn't feel like killing anyone anymore, and that was it. I tried to hide my bad mood better, though, because Ms. Bishop could smell class-disturbance from fifty miles away and I didn't want to give off the vibe that I was about to disturb the stiff silence of the class as she reviewed the lessons we had learned last week.

"Miss Taylors?" Ms. Bishop called out after we were finished with the review. "Would you come and fill the vacant desk to Mr. Gibbs' left?"

I pulled my eyes away from the textbook I was reading and glanced at the empty seat next to Jonah, which was on the third row. I was sitting on the second row from the back of the classroom, so I stood up and did as Ms. Bishop asked—well, more like commanded. The woman loved her class in utmost order that no one was allowed to sit in the back of the class if there was a vacant seat up front, even if said seat was actually someone else's who was absent for the day.

"Thank you," Ms. Bishop said once I had sat down before continuing on the lesson.

I took a deep breath as I reopened the textbook, listening intently to everything Ms. Bishop was saying. But my head was starting to get heavier, and my eyes were slowly drooping as the sharp voice that belonged to our teacher faded into what sounded like lullaby to my ears. I felt my breathing get slower and the world fade into darkness...

... until a sharp nudge on my right feet startled me awake.

I managed not to make a sound of surprise, and thankfully Ms. Bishop had her back on me when I was harshly shaken awake. With a glare on my face, I turned to my right, where Jonah Gibbs was staring ahead calmly, but his left feet was slightly stretched to the side, indicating that he was indeed the cause of the slight pain on my feet.

Seeing that he wasn't about to react to my angry look, I lowly huffed and went back to the book, grabbing my pen to start taking notes on what Ms. Bishop was writing on the whiteboard. But then my brain started to give up on keeping me awake again, and I felt myself falling deeper and deeper into slumber...

... until I felt someone's hard shoe jabbing into my feet, and I finally yelped in surprise, startling the whole class, including our teacher herself.

Ms. Bishop had already had her eyes on me, and I kept my anger for Jonah to myself. To my surprise, she then lifted her hard gaze on Jonah, and the boy squirmed in his seat. I guess she had caught the whole Jonah-stepping-into-my-foot thing—hopefully she didn't realize that I was dozing off in her class too.

"Miss Taylors, Mr. Gibbs," our teacher started calmly, but Dorothy Bishop was literally the epitome of the calm before the storm. "I do not tolerate such disturbance in my class, so I would suggest that you leave the room in this instant, and pay a visit to the principal's office. Thank you."

Her words sent chills down my spine, and all I could think about was: I was definitely screwed.