Khalifa's POV
Do I look at him during the rest of my English period? No.
Okay maybe once. Just once.
The rest of English is boring anyway. Plus agony is sitting in a spinning chair and not being allowed to spin.
After English I walk to my locker with a detention slip from Mrs Watts. I had soccer practise this afternoon and I'm gonna miss it because of her. Damn.
My bestfriend, Lydia runs to catch up with me. 'Luka King. Hot and definately naughty.' She says in excitement. Shame on her. She's just from breaking up. Lydia is really pretty with a great body, cherry blonde hair and light blue eyes. She's a cheerleader and although we're a lot different, she's the only one in this school that accepts Khalifa Washington for being Khalifa Washington.
'He's not even that nice.' I say. 'You're just saying that cause he's new and you're already so used to all the boys in school.'
Lydia folds her arms and looks at me with a raised eyebrow. 'Really senator Washington?'
'Fine.' I say with a roll of my eyes. 'He is pretty cute. But he's a major jerk. Almost as much as a jerk as Isaac.' I refer to my ex boyfriend.
She laughs. 'Yeah. He so made you look stupid in class. But Isaac is in his own league of jerk.'
'Did I look that stupid?'
Lydia laughs again. 'Totally.' We walk to my locker and talk about other things like how it would be cool to get fake IDs and go for the Halloween Ball that's gonna have a hella lot of celebrities. And how Isaac keeps hitting me up. And her cheerleading. And my soccer. And a bit of that Luka boy again. And the latest news in school.
'Oh can I copy your chemistry notes? It's my next period.'
'You're lucky I'm free.' I say as I pull out my chemistry book from my locker and hand it to her.
'Don't act like you don't copy my notes either. Anyway see ya after class.' She says as she rushes for chemistry.
'I have detention!' I remind her.
'Oh.' She laughs. 'You gotta love the new guy.'
I search for my books in my locker. Huh! Love the new guy! I hate that dude. He's soooo...so cute...but that's not the point. He's...aaarghh!! He's-
'Hi.'
He's standing right behind me. Shit.
I slam my locker door and turn around. Woah. Close. Too close. Close enough to get his fresh scent. It's like he's rosemary but not spice. Daisies but not flowers. Conditioner but not soapy. Strawberries and vanilla but not sugar. It's just hard to describe just how good he smells.
I lean against my locker to keep a safe distance between us. I look up at his dark eyes. He's not smiling. He's looking at me too. Sort of confused and troubled. But it disappears from his face in a flash and he's got a mask on his face. I don't think he reveals much of his feelings.
'I'm an asshole.' He says with just a hint of that stupidly interesting Italian accent of his.
Thanks for stating the obvious. I keep quiet and when he sees he's not getting a reply from me he runs a frustrated hand through his hair. 'And sometimes my assholeness expresses itself when it shouldn't.' Should it ever? 'And I apologise.'
'For being an asshole or expressing it?' I ask sarcastically.
'I'm not apologising for being an asshole. It helps me out sometimes.' He says with a silly smile.
I almost smile but I bite my lip and stop myself from doing it and just turn back to my locker. He leans his arm on the locker next to mine and looks at me.
Why is he doing that? He's making me nervous. Geez. It's not fair for nice people to do that to midgets like me.
'Am I forgiven?' He says. I wish I could glue his lips together so I can stop thinking about how nice his voice is.
'I forgave you before you even came to ask.' I say and start to walk away.
'Wait!' He says and grabs my hand. And I just stop. I don't know why. I really don't. Maybe it's the way my hand is so small in his. Or the way mine are so cold and yet his are so warm. The way his are moulded and mine are carved. But I think it's the way our hands just fit so perfectly together.
I pull my hand away from his and stuff it in the pocket of my blazer. I literally have goosebumps trailing over my skin. But I still feel the effect his fingers left.
'I wanna start over.' He sighs and grins slowly. 'Hi I'm Luka King.'
'What?'
'No no no. Now you say, "I'm Donald Trump or Kermit the frog or Beyonce." or whatever your name is.' He says as he makes his voice high pitched and tries to mimic me.
I can't control myself. I laugh. 'I do not speak like that.' I protest.
'Sure you do.' He says. 'Now try.'
I roll my eyes at how stupid this is. 'Hi I...' Can't believe I'm fucking doing this. 'I'm Khalifa Washington.'
'Khalifa...It's a nice name. Something about it fits you like a glove.' I hope I'm not blushing. I hope I'm not blushing. I hope I'm not blushing. But...It's just...The way he pronounced my fucking name! I've heard dozens of pronunciations.. And I don't know the way he does it. A soft roll of his tongue and curl of his lips. Like a saint muttering a prayer.
I'm too confused to even say thank you...but he seems not to notice.
"Anyway I'm having...uh..." He glances at his timetable. "Calculus next. Do you think you could give me directions?'
What? He had math next too? Is the universe playing games with me or something? Anyway it's probably just a coincidence. Right? But still. Cut it out universe.
'Uh it's three classes after our English class.' I say.
'Okay...' He scratches the back of his neck. 'Oh hold on.' He moves closer to me so he can scribble my brain with trying to decipher his scent and then straightens and gently tightens my necktie. 'There...much better.'
Oh god. I had a crooked tie the whole time?
Luka walks away from me without another word. He's 21st century debonair with a charm of his own.
I walk away too. And as I'm walking I just find myself looking back and taking one last look at him.
But of course...He's not looking back.
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*Me speaking in medieval queens voice*
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