The green hills on Alpine Meadows (2)

pairing : chris x reader

warnings : use of ‘y/n’ , swearing , might be a little confusing , not the best descriptions , pet name (‘pretty’) , not proofread.

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I don't bother to see who was sat near me, I just look at where the yellow tinted screen with greasy fingerprint marks on it said I was sat, which was next to Christopher on the third row, two desks from the right side of the class, and try to find where the desk was in the classroom.

I eventually find where it was, and coyly walk over to it, inspecting the mustard yellow coloured workbooks placed in front of the seats, one with 'Chris' labelled on it in scruffy writing, one blank. I gently pull the chair with the blank book in front of it back and sit down whilst I place my bag on the floor with a soft 'thud' noise as my pencil case and equipment softly drops onto the floor. I open the zip of my bag and pull my light, plain, sage green coloured pencil case out of my bag and bring it to my lap, scrambling through it to find a plain black biro pen. Placing the pencil case down once I'd gotten the pen I wanted, I instantly started writing down the title on the work book in front of me once I'd opened it, leaving the front cover blank without realising.

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Not long after I'd set to work, the popular group of students came striding in confidently, lead by the boys, I’m the girls clinging behind like desperate, attention seeking koalas. With an unbearable amount of high pitched, over-the-top, tacky and fake giggles and squeals emerging from the girls mouths who were tagging behind Christopher, obsessively craving his attention as if they were going to die unless they got some form of attention from him. Chris, being the same smug, insufferable, cocky, arrogant and confident popular frat boy as all the other boys in his group of friends, obviously only the pompous and irritating boys, indulged in the girls' crave for his pointless attention, grinning proudly as the girls followed behind him. The around average height girls with varieties of hair colours, mostly deep brunette or honey blonde coloured, quickly scurried to their seats, biting their nails whilst squealing and giggling pathetically at their brief and slightly flirty interaction with Chris, as they heard Mr. Watson raise his deep, croaky old man's voice when the girls and Chris ignored his previous comments telling them to sit down. "Sit down! Now." Mr. Watson demanded repeatedly in a stern tone, an irritated and wound up frown displayed on his face, highlighting the wrinkles in his forehead as he furrowed his brows. He pursed his pink tinted lips tightly together, frustrated with the lack of care the students had as he watched the girls care more about talking than getting work done.

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My focus snaps off Mr. Watson as I hear an aggressive thud against the floor, causing the ground to vibrate. My gaze turns to the loud noise, and I realise it was Chris putting his bag down. What could be in his bag to make it so heavy? Geez.

My focus lingers on his bag for a second, as if there was something majestic about his simple but heavy bag, before realising he was looking at me. I divert my gaze up to his eyes, and meet his confused but curious gaze. I realise he was probably wondering why I was staring at his bag for so long. Great. That was embarrassing. I don't even know myself why I was staring for so long.

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I quickly look back at the teacher, who was now ranting angrily on about how 'important it is to be on time to lesson', and how 'it's extremely rude and disrespectful' to waste his time. After his dreadfully deafening lecture which caused all the students to groan the minute he started speaking, knowing what he was about to rant on about, he announced to the whole class that he would be walking around the class and monitoring everyone even closer than usual today, making sure everyone was doing all the work. I quickly finish writing everything in the board that we were instructed to write down, worried about getting in trouble on my first day and making a bad impression on the teacher.

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I overhear a couple people talking together, passing notes or happily feeling confident enough to talk out loud to each other, before they were told off by Mr. Watson. "Excuse me! I'm speaking!" He scolds everyone, snapping his head viscously in Chris' direction, meeting him with a firm scowl to show his feeling toward Chris' 'disrespectful behaviour'. "Sorry, sir." Chris shrugs, stifling a laugh by covering his mouth with his hand.

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Not long after Mr. Watson turns around to continue explaining what was on the board, the boys begin to speak to each other again. This time, with Chris sat next to me, I overhear their conversation, unable to hear what sir was saying over their talking. "Yeah, this seating plan's shit. I've got to sit next to 'her." One of the boys murmured glumly, shifting his shoulder to direct Chris' eyes to the girl sat next to him. It was the girl I was sat next to during form time. She seemed really sweet and kind, making me instantly feel sorry for her, knowing she could hear the boys talking about her.

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"Wait, Chris, who're you sat next to?" The boy asks, intrigued and looking over at me. I keep my gaze straight, looking forward at the board, nervous and worried they would say something bad about me, even though they didn't even know me.

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"D'know. The new one, can't remember her name. She's quiet." He mutters back, glancing over at me with a blank expression, scanning over my facial features as I try to focus on the work.

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Out of the corner of my eye, I see him murmur something to his friend, before leaning back in his seat and turning to face me. "Hey, you, 's your name?" He bops his head up, waiting expectantly for my response with an emotionless expression on his weirdly attractive face. I turn to look at him. "Y/n." I reply coyly in a quiet voice. "Mm. 'Kay." He muttered, turning back to face his friend, who was almost the opposite of him.

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The only thing that made them similar, was their attitude. The other boy was blond with hazel eyes and pale pink lips with a little, dried out, red cut on the left side of his bottom lip, indicating he tended to chew on and bite his bottom lip.

Chris huffed and rolled his eyes slightly, almost seeming irritated by my unenthusiastic response to his question, clearly expecting more of a reaction from a girl. Especially one who had 'the honour' of spoken to by Chris.

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Chris and his equally smug friend continued blabbering on to each other carelessly, clearly not interested at all in this boring. I don't even blame them, this lesson was dull and repetitive. At least in my old school the teachers didn't repeat the same load of rubbish they'd already said about a thousand times, each time getting more and more boring.

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As the lesson went on, the boys began to become more disruptive. They were talking and laughing as if they weren't in class, most had moved seats, including Chris who had shuffled his dark grey plastic chair to the desk next to ours, and a couple boys had even been recklessly throwing carefully folded paper aeroplanes around the class.

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At this point, Mr. Watson had given up with trying to prevent the class' ridiculous antics from continuing. He stared furiously at everyone who was disrupting the class, pursing his small lips and furrowing his bushy, dark brown eyebrows.

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Just as Mr. Watson was about to attempt settling the class down again, I feel a light prick to the side of my head. I whip my head around to see what hit my head. I notice a folded piece of paper now resting on the floor.

Of course.

A paper aeroplane.

"Sorry," Chris chuckles lightly, trying to hide a devious smirk. I scoff quietly and lead over, reaching my soft arm down to pick up the poxy paper aeroplane. I pick it up swiftly and crush the paper in my hands, loud crinkling noises emerging from the paper until it forms a slightly misshapen ball. Without thinking, I throw it back at Chris, it landing in his lap.

God, why did I do that?

That was so fucking stupid.

I'm new, and I had the guts to do that shit?

Am I high or something.

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Chris snaps his head up, his brown locks flopping down onto his face. He doesn't say anything, just rolls his eyes, picking the crinkled piece of paper up and throwing aggressively down onto the ground.

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˙⋆✮At the end of the day, I begin walking home. ✮⋆˙

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I speedily turn around a corner, desperate to get home. I inhale the smell of the moist, cool fresh breeze, before I soon feel a strong, muscular, warm arm get slung over my shoulder, using it to gently pull me closer to the owner of the arm's warm, inviting body. "So, what's up with chucking paper at me, pretty?" He says teasingly in a slightly deep voice. I look up at the person, and see Chris looking down at me with a grin. "Shut up. You threw it at me first!" I respond argumentatively, returning the same teasing grin.

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I guess there was one really good thing about moving here. To beautiful Alpine Meadows. I got to see my precious boyfriend without having to drive hours to see him.