Nobody Told Me That I Would Be Learning To French Kiss HIM in French Class! [`o9]

"Hannah!"

I walked faster, my heels clicking against the floor. The school was almost empty now. It was silent though. So silent I could hear my own breathing, the cheerleaders practice and...

"Hannah! Wait up!"

...that annoying voice.

"Oh Hannah Beaaar," Matthew sung melodiously, but I had a feeling he was cringing by how he sounded like. I wanted to giggle actually since he sounded so silly. That was if I wasn't so mad. He called me again, and I broke into a jog.

It was good for your health anyway.

I heard him staggered behind me, his sneakers squeaked against the floor. And within seconds, he grabbed my shoulder and turned me around. "Hey," he said, looking at me with those eyes which were now intense and dark.

"Hi. I didn't heard you there."

He shot me a glare. "I'm sorry alright?"

"Wow, Matthew Zachary with an apology?!" I spat, turning around but he grabbed my shoulder again. "Why are you so angry with me right now, god?!" he said, removing his hands when I slapped it away.

"Isn't it obvious?" I scolded. "You got me detention!"

"So?"

"I never got a detention in my life! God, that was seriously embarrassing, Matt."

"It's a detention!" he said, sounding aghast and taken aback. "It's not as if you dance in public naked. Although that would be highly amusing..."

I stared at him blankly.

"You want to know what would be more amusing, ey Matt?" I said, sounding deranged.

"Hannah, you seriously need to take a chill pill. Or maybe two of them, I don't know."

"If I'll castrate you in public. That would be SOO amusing."

"No, that would be sadistic."

I turned away again but he caught up with me, intertwining his fingers with mine. "That's not it, isn't it?" he said. "I mean, it probably is but it's not the only thing?" he continued.

"No, it's really just the detention."

He caught me.

"Is it Belinda? Is it the question I asked yesterday? Did I do something that I'm not aware of? Come on, tell me."

He started swinging my arm back and forth. It felt limp anyway. We walked out of the school together like that. "Don't you have band practice?" I asked him, annoyed.

"I could tell them I broke my fingers."

"That's not possible because you see, any idiots with a low GPA could tell you that broken bones would mend from weeks to even 3 months at times in adults. You can't just tell them you broke your fingers and be fine the next day. That's a shitty excuse."

He sighed.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"What?"

"Why are you holding my hand?"

He shrugged. "Why are you not letting go?"

Matthew smirked as he observed me fumbling to get out of his grasp. When I finally did, we walked side by side in silence. "You know, while I was making popcorn for us the other day..."

"You didn't made popcorn. You made burnt popcorn."

"Whatever it still tastes nyummy."

"That's because we dumped a lot of chocolate syrup in it, for some reason. Plus, you broke the microwave-oven. I didn't think it was possible. I mean, you were only making popcorns."

He stared at me before taking a deep breath. "Anyway."

"I saw this family portrait of some sort. It was small, it was set on that little tables. And...there was this dude in it. With your auburn hair and green eyes, I think. He has beady eyes."

"He's my brother, Jason."

"Yeah well he seems like a nice guy. He couldn't be at least 3 years older than you, where is he now?"

"I don't know," I answered stiffly. "Why are you asking about this anyway?"

"Because he seems awfully familiar."

I stopped in my tracks, looking at him with my eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean? Do you know him?"

"Jason Brent Miller? Right? He told me that he have one little sister once. The name was Hana or Hannah or something. Although to be honest I didn't think his sister would be short."

I grabbed his collar. "Matt, where did you know him?"

He shrugged, holding my wrist and pulling them away. "He worked part-time at that music store. It's where I bought my first guitar," he said, seemingly to reminisce the time when he walked into the store with a smile on his face.

"Never see much of him now though. I thought he went to some college or something."

We kept walking and I suddenly felt uncomfortable, almost as if I was suffocating. "He did."

"That explains it," he nodded.

"Why are you walking home with me?" I asked.

"I don't know," he said emotionlessly, ruffling his hair. "It's a habit."

I gave him a wary smile and he smiled enthusiastically back.

"Anyway, I'm confident that we'll get an A for our project," he told me, looking up towards the sky. It was as if he made it a habit to look up at the sky too. I guffawed.

"See? It feels nice doesn't it?"

"What? Being a nerd?"

"Books are fascinating," I told him. He looked at me, not like he did when I tried to explain to him the history of the Eiffel Tower- like some kind of a lunatic that had escpaed the asylum with a syringe still sticking out of my arm. But his gaze had soften.

I kind of like him this way.

"You'll go far some day, kid."