♡♡♡

We're still entranced in each other's eyes, Ashton and I. And soon, as if coming to his senses and realizing we've just been staring at one another, Ashton speaks up - breaking us out of our reverie.

"T-that was..." he begins, but he seems to be at a loss for words.

"Amazing," I finish for him.

"Did you feel it too?" He asks. I nod, knowing exactly what he's referring to.

"Fireworks." Is my one-word answer. He blushes and casts his eyes to the floor bashfully.

"I hate to ruin the mood guys, but what the hell just happened?" Cole's voice interrupts.

"Just wait, dude. You'll see," Ashton chuckles.

"Alright," Xavier starts, clapping his hands to get our full attention. "As much as I loved the show, I think it's time to get all of our homework and shit done. Are you sure you're alright, Avelyn?"

I nod and glance over at Ashton while I answer. "Couldn't be better." His cheeks turn even more red, and I'm shocked that finally I'm the one making them blush. I'm quite likening this new, confident me.

After that, we did our homework. I chose that time to work on my poem a little, too. It may be a little depressing. But hey, no one ever said life was full of sunshine and rainbows. Sometimes things go to shit, and people feel pain. So, that's exactly what I decided to write about. When we were finished, we decided to order some pizzas. Considering we never got the chance to actually eat ours before I decided to have a fricken panic attack.

'Way to go.' I internally roll my eyes.

Regardless, the pizza was amazing. And once we fulfilled everything that needed done, we went to bed. The boys ended up. sleeping with me again. Though, it didn't take much convincing them. I think they were still on edge and slightly wary from when I had my panic attack. Also, though I'd never confront them about it, I'm pretty sure they liked the feeling of us all sleeping together.

But I'm not complaining about it at all; I love it too, and I hate the feeling of sleeping alone. Especially after I got a taste at what it felt like to share a bed with people who care about me and vice versa.

☆☆☆

The next few days went by very quickly. I hadn't even noticed that it was almost Friday until the day was upon us. Throughout the week, I got to spend more time with my boys. I learned even more about them than before. And with each new added piece of information, I grew that much more attached.

Cole's middle name is Christopher, he loves the color purple, and one of his favorite things to do is play video games with his brothers. He's the clown of the bunch, always wanting to brighten someone's day by making them smile and laugh. Though I already knew that, it's still something that he never fails to do and surprise me with. Cole's my goofball.

Then there's Ashton. See, I already knew he gave off the bad boy kind of vibe, but he never fooled me; I know he just wants someone to love and to be loved. Though I did learn that his favorite color is red, his middle name is Mark, and suprisingly enough, he loves to draw. He showed me some of his pieces, and I have to say, they're beautiful. I would have never expected him to be into something like that, but I've learned to not judge a book by its bad-boy-cover. Ashton's my artist.

And last, but certainly not least: Xavier. I could already feel the powerful aura he emitted, so that was nothing new. He's the leader. Also, I could already tell that he loved cars. His gushing over my car was enough to figure that out. But I didn't know that his favorite color is green, his middle name is Micheal, and that he loves watching the sunset. At first glance, one would never suspect something like that about Xavier. But the more you get to know him, the more it all makes sense. Xavier's my gentle alpha.

And I've also noticed that I have a nickname for Cole and Ashton, but not one for Xavier. Though I think he and I want to keep it that way; he doesn't seem like one to fit with a nickname. And I don't think I could find one to do his leader-like personality justice.

I've grown more fond of Sarah, too. We've become great friends. She's hilarious, and her corny puns never cease to amaze me. She's really sweet too, and I know that I can always count on her as a friend.

I'm shaken out of my daydreaming by the shrill ringing of the bell, signalling to leave for fourth period. Ash and I pack up our things to meet with Coco and Xavier. And of course, Ash finds it necessary to carry my bag.

'Sometimes I can't with these kids.'

We don't have to walk far, though. Because as soon as we step out of the classroom, we find Cole and Xavier there waiting for us.

"Hi, princess."

"Hey there, kitten." I'm greeted by two of my boys.

"Hi guys! How was class?" I ask them and receive two groans.

"Ugh, it was so fucking boring. I hate Calculus, and I suck at math," Cole complains.

"Well, at my old school, I doubled up on Geometry and Algebra II sophomore year. And I took Calculus junior year. So I finished all of my required math courses. That's why I don't have a math class this year. Plus, I'm also really good at Calculus. I can help tutor you, if you want," I suggest, and he sighs in relief.

"Really? Thank God! What would I do without you Avelyn?"

"Fail," I reply shortly, and the boys chuckle. The warning bell chimes. And I hug Xavier goodbye, saying, "I'll see you at lunch."

Once we've made it to the classroom, I suddenly feel very nervous. I know everyone is going to be sharing their poems, but I can't help but feel selfconsious.

'What if no one likes mine, and they all laugh at me?'

No, bad Avelyn. Don't get yourself worked up over nothing. Besides, I'm sure everyone's nervous to share theirs. Mine just so happens to be very personal and depressing.

'No biggie.'

I internally scoff at myself; of course it's a biggie. I've never shared anything this personal with someone before, let alone a whole fucking class. I mentally shake myself out of my stupor; this is not a time to doubt myself.

Once the bell has rung and the rest of the class has arrived and settled down, the teacher addresses the class.

"Alright, so today we are going to be sharing our poems. Now you all might be feeling a little nervous to share your thoughts and feelings so publicly, but quite honestly, this is a pretty big chunk of your grade. And everyone else in here is on the same boat, so we're all going to sail together. And if you decide you back out, your grade is going to sink. Alright that's all. Pep talk over," Mrs. Baldwin says, quite encouragingly.

"Sheesh woman. Who shit in your cereal?'

"We'll take volunteers first," she announces. But no one raises their hands, probably still too scared from her not-so-peppy-pep-talk. I definitely saw that one coming. She claims she's bored and decides to just start calling on people instead. For the most part, they're pretty good. Though some you could tell didn't have enough effort put into them. While others were either inspirational or sad. Eventually, it's Cole's turn, and I was waiting at the edge of my seat to hear his. He went up to the front of the class with a piece of lined paper in his hands, and he began.

"This is called Blue," he started, and I could see his nerves make his hands tremble - causing the paper he's holding to shake a little. I rest my elbow on the desk and my chin in my hand, ready to listen to this. He looks over at me, and I give him a kind and reassuring smile. Then he looks down at his paper and continues, his nerves dissipating for the most part.

"Fire, a bright red.

Eyes, a deep blue.

Heart, heavy as lead.

Soul, waiting for its due.

Mind, sharp as a blade.

Body, weak and frail.

Shadows, outgrowing the betrayed.

Face, deathly pale.

Yet still, the light shines within.

She's learned to push through.

She manages a sickly grin.

Her strength, they could not subdue.

She continues to fight.

In her eyes lies a wild storm.

It is truly a marvelous sight.

And blue has never looked so warm."

He finishes, and for a moment, it's completely silent. Then, the class begins to clap for him while he walks back to his desk sheepishly.

"Very good, Mr. Sanders. Next is Ashton," Mrs. Baldwin concludes. Ashton rises from his chair and starts to the front of the class. His eyes find mine, searching for what I'm sure is source support and assurance. Once I can see that he's found some, he clears his throat.

"This is called The Angel," he begins, breaking our eye contact to read his paper. Then, he proceeds.

"When I was a young boy,

All I could do was spectate.

My life contained little joy,

And I never believed in fate.

Then I met my brothers.

Together we overcame.

With nothing but each other,

And our bond was to blame.

But still, my heart wasn't whole,

And I just couldn't figure out why.

I felt like such a fool,

But I refused to just sit and cry.

I searched to find that missing part.

I looked high and low.

Still, I never found that piece to my heart.

The other half would never show.

Until one day, I met an angel.

Though I didn't know it then.

My life finally became substantial,

And my heart was put back together again.

For she is my other half;

She is my soulmate.

She gives me reason to smile and laugh.

She made me believe in fate.

I just hope that one day

She realizes how much I care for her.

I hope she knows that I'll always stay,

And that I'll always be there for her.

Because I'd never leave that angel;

The one who made me finally believe.

Her presence has become essential.

Without her, I feel as if I can't breathe."

He stops for a minute and looks me in the eyes once more, as if he's looking past my irises and straight into my soul. Then he finishes.

"So this poem is for her.

The girl I can't live without.

She's so much more than I deserve,

And I can say that without a doubt.

But I hope she never leaves me,

Because I don't know what I'd do.

And I pray that she believes me,

Please Avelyn, babygirl, I can't lose you."

Gasps are heard throughout the classroom, as if astounded by his sudden confession, and I know that I'm one of them. Tears begin to well up in my eyes. I feel guilty yet grateful. Guilty because, even though I feel the same for him, I didn't write my poem about it. And grateful because that was the sweetest thing anyone has ever done or said to me before.

The teacher clears her throat, regaining the attention of the class. "Oh my," she says. "That was beautiful, Mr. Micheals." As if regaining her bearings as well, she adds, "I guess it's Miss Gravaldi's turn now." I look to him once more, seeing the sincerity and adoration in his kind gaze, and I'm left wondering how the hell I'm supposed to follow that up.

'YOLO, I guess!'

'Do people even say that anymore?'

Not the time, Ava. Not the time. I stiffly tuck a loose tendril of silver hair that decided to slip out of my braid behind my ear. Then I stand up slowly and tread to the front of the class, still keeping my gaze locked upon Ashton's. He was about to reach out to me. For an embrace, I'm assuming. I mean, what else would he be reaching out to me for? But he's stopped before we're able to touch by Mrs. Baldwin's rushed voice.

"Hurry up," she says. "We haven't got all day."

Ash walks back to his seat, sulking. And I march to the front of the classroom, not quite prepared but ready as I'll ever be.

"This poem is titled Pain." I can't bring myself to look up to the class, finding myself too nervous. So I just continue to read.

"I'm hurting.

I feel like my skin is burning.

My thoughts are a mess.

I'm overwhelmed with so much stress.

I have so much anxiety,

And I'm struggling to keep fighting.

Believe me, pain is real.

And pain is what I feel.

My thoughts are clattering,

And my heart is shattering.

But I'd rather have a broken bone,

Than to feel this alone.

Because you can heal a broken bone,

But a broken heart has no hope.

And a doctor is a fool,

Because he can't stitch back a soul.

Believe me, pain is real.

And pain is what I feel.

But I can see that it isn't just me.

You feel it just the same as I: misery.

You feel the pain too.

Tell me, what did they do to hurt you?

How were you pained?

Were you struck and constrained?

Or did they torture you verbally?

Were you pained mentally?

Either way, you were hurt; trust me, I know.

I can see, but believe me, you're not alone.

Because pain is real.

And pain is what we all feel.

Once, we walked alone.

With no one or place to call home.

Now we can walk together.

We can aid in one another's endeavors.

We can walk the same path, hand in hand.

Together, we'll stay; together, we'll stand.

Because we've all been there,

In a place full of so much despair.

Yes, we've all felt great sorrow,

So come with me, and we'll see who follows.

All of us, I bet.

Because pain, we all get.

Believe me, pain is real.

And pain is what we all feel."

Before anyone has the chance to comment on my poem, the bell rings, and I'm met with two dumbfounded boys.

____________________________________

Like I said in the beginning, not everyone likes poetry. And like I also previously stated, I love it. So I decided to dedicate this chapter to it. Sorry if you were expecting something different. But I guess you can't go back in time and un-read it, so... Too late! 😊 I also apologize for the lack of editing; I didn't really feel like it, if I'm being honest. At least I got a chapter up; that's all that matters. And that's about it for now. So...

*insert predictable signoff here*

As always, until next time...

Sincerely,

The Annoying Author Lady