11 ??He is so infuriating?? (2/2)

With those words, he walked over to the teacher's desk and placed his register on it. Not even two seconds later, the teacher walked in.

”I'm so sorry for being late,” She said.

Some students groaned.

One muttered, ”You shouldn't have come.”

I was pretty sure the teacher heard him.

And that was Leroy High.

Filled with irrespective students and cocky, infuriating head boys.

I was so ready for the weekend.

. . .

The bell rang and I slapped the Math book close. The male teacher hurried out of the class and everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Yeah, everyone hated double lessons of this mind-boggling subject. Plus, Sir had given us ten questions to attempt for homework.

Thinking about it already made me tense. I was going to fail.

The thought had me opening my textbook again. I eyed the question, understanding nothing. What did it say again?

”What are you doing?” Zayn snarled.

I slowly looked up. The class was empty and Zayn stood by the door, rapping his long, slender fingers over it.

”Math homework?” It came out more like a question.

”I don't know which world you're living in, but Math class is over and everyone has to be in the gymnasium. Right. Now.”

I looked heavenwards. ”Can't I just sit here and do my work?”

”Why are you under the illusion that you'll get special treatment from me?” He said and then motioned for me to get up and get out of the classroom. ”Out. Now.”

I growled in frustration. ”I'm taking my books with me.”

When I was about to walk out of the door, his hand shot out, blocking my path. I cut him with a look.

”I allowed no such thing. Come on, put them back.”

”I need to do my work,” I ground out. ”I don't have time at home.”

”Why?” He asked. It was a single word. But it had a hint of curiosity behind it.

I had to remind myself that it was because of his bet and had nothing to do with him being interested in me.

”Personal reasons,” I clipped.

That dark, terrifying look returned in his eyes. He silently stared at me for a long time while I tried to keep my eyes on the interesting green textbook. The only sound I could hear was that of our breathing and the ticking of the clock above our heads.

It was then that I realised how close we stood. I licked my lips and tried to pry off Zayn's hand from where it clutched the wood of the door, blocking my way. The spine of my textbook continuously thumped into Zayn's bare forearm.

”Let me take it with me,” I whispered.

”No,”

I thought of my job. I worked as a waitress in a small coffee shop close to my house. Other than that, I earned money from the company I had signed a writing contract with online.

My pay wasn't handsome but it brought Dad's medicines and I could get a gift or two for Labeeb once a month.

I hated not doing enough for my family. Mom worked her ass off trying to earn money for all of us and she was the only one who was keeping us going.

I was scared.

The job wasn't stable. And it didn't pay enough—not enough for the amount of hard work she put in.

We were barely surviving.

”What's wrong?” Zayn asked. My chest constricted at the softness in his tone. Crap. He hadn't changed. He was still the boy with closed-off emotions and kindness within. ”Why the sad look, Lee?”

I peered up at him and then lowered my eyes to the ground.

How could I ever explain anything to him? We had years of distance between us. Too much had happened in those years. He wouldn't understand why I made the choices I did.

He would never understand what I had to go through.

Nobody could ever understand.

”Dammit, Lee. Don't do that shit with your eyes. How many times do I have to tell you?”

I watched him struggle. He had backed away. I never understood his reaction for me lowering my eyes.

Pushing down my confusion, I looked at the door—the open door, without him blocking it—and without saying anything, I sprang into action and ran out.