KasperÂ
MicahÂ
Prologue: Enchanted To Meet You
K’s POV
“Why do people fall in love?”
“Because we’re attracted to it,” someone said.
“Because it makes us feel complete,” another sounded off.
“Love is a social construct,” another one mumbled, a boy with hair covering his eyes and weird tattoos. “Created by corporations so they can sell us nonsense things like necklaces for money.”
The blonde lady – I always forgot her name – she was big, round and her smile ate her whole face. “What about you, K?” she asked, approaching me in the Friendship Circle. “Why do people fall in love?”
Everyone was staring now. I was used to it. Big Boobs Tessa with her social anxiety, Angst Aaron with his dead parents, Black Mark and his drug habit. But there were a new pair of eyes.
Hidden behind glasses, feet pressed together by the knees, wearing a shirt that read Beyoncé. His eyborws were bushy and his hands were white as snow.
“K?”
My eyes floated back to Round Lady. I rolled them. “Because it’s human too,” I answered.
She nodded and smiled. “That’s a good answer. Because we’re human. And as humans we all share certain things in common.”
“We all think Nickelback sucks,” I said. “And that if we had a time machine, we’d go back and maybe straighten a few things out with Hitler.”
Everyone laughed. Accept the new boy. Who sat there, book in his lap, watching me like I had something growing out of the side my neck. Maybe I should get that lump checked.
“Who here has been in love?” Round Lady asked.
She twirled around the room, like a ditsy Marry Poppins before her pointed finger landed on the new boy. “Micah,” she spoke.
Micah. Biblical name. Cute. That’s a great pick-up line. Gonna use that one.
“I haven’t as yet,” he said. He had a British accent. Kinda hot.
“And why is that?” she asked him.
He shuffled in his seat. “Well, besides being completely blunt that tends to turn off individuals that are looking for love, I have acute social anxiety as well as a dash of that awkward teenage thing where we overcompensate trying to be funny by using internet lingo and jokes that only work on tumblr. I also find dating to be completely idiotic. I mean If I wanted to eat a corndog at the carnival, I’d just be a depressed clown or something, me being fully aware that clowns are at the circus rather than the carnival. I also do not have the capacity to love anyone that isn’t Beyoncé, isn’t somehow associated with Beyoncé and/or doesn’t share my love for Beyoncé. I am also very sarcastic and that kind of behavior doesn’t fit anywhere outside of tumblr texts post, a community in which I am an engrossed member.”
Someone coughed.
“Um. Thank you,” she said. “Okay. That’s it for today guys. Remember, this is a mandatory after school program, so I will see you tomorrow, or face suspension.”
Everyone one got up, and most left immediately, sighing in exhaustion at the fact that we had to sit here, in a damn circle for two hours and talk about our feelings because we were “broken”, as the school’s guidance counselor put it ever so eloquently and needed the extra timed with a professional.
I wasn’t broken. I wasn’t even damaged. When since is smoking weed a bad thing? So what if I bully a few little nerds here and there? Is hitting on the lunch lady really that bad? She could use the attention.
What doesn’t kill you won’t hurt you right?
I picked up my backpack and was about to leave when I noticed that the new kid, who I honestly have never seen before a day in my life, hadn’t left. He was over by the counter where the refreshments, water literally, was served.
I sauntered over, doing my best bad boy smoldering look (chicks and d*ks love iiitt) to which he raised a curious brow when he caught wind of me.
“Hello,” I said. “Micah is it?”
He nodded rather slowly. “Most of the time, yes.”
“Biblical name. That’s cute,” I tried.
“How so?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.
“Huh?” I replied, titling mine as well, if not out of confusion, just to straight up mock him.
“How is a name cute and what does it having to be found it the bible have to do with the level of cuteness of said name?” he questioned. “What raises the bar?”
I felt my left eye twitch. “Saw you checking me out, kid,” I said, changing the topic.
“Well, I have working eyes, and they tend to roam the room , as eyes will do from time to time.” Then he blinked. Twice. “I’m your age so don’t call me ‘kid’ ‘kiddo’ ‘child’ ‘son’ or anything of the sort.”
“Yeah,” I said with a smirk, “but I’m taller.”
He poured some water into a styrofoam cup. “That has nothing to do with me being called a child, and you considering yourself my superior, age wise.”
“Do you talk like this all day?” I asked.
“If I speak with words?” he asked. “Yes.”
“You’re a smart little guy, aren’t ya?” I asked him, hovering over him, trying to use my height to either intimidate or romance. Whatever works really.
“Okay. Let’s skip the playful banter stuff,” he said, in his soft, posh, British accent “I’m Micah Lewis and you are?” he asked.
I almost sniggered a bit. “K.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Like the letter.”
“The one and only,” I said, bowing a bit. “It fits the bad boy image I’m cultivating here in this town.”
He sipped the water like it was hot tea. “Oh. So, is this the part where I tell you how mesmerizing your eyes are, or the part where we instantly fall in love?” he stepped up like he was about to tell a secret. “Am I going to be mugged in an alley way and you’re going to save me even though that would be improbable since you would have to be following me, also known as stalking – an illegal act – to do so? I mean statistically speaking, I’d be murdered there and robbed of my belongings, most likely stripped of my clothing and thrown in a river.” he said, laughing a bit before taking another sip.
I leaned against the counter and took the cup out of his hand, drinking the entire thing. “No.” I put the cup on the counter. “Wrong type of story.”
He placed his hands on his hips. “Then what type of story is this?” he asked. “Do tell?”
I smirked. “It’s a short story. And we’re coming the part where you sorta blow me in the bathroom,” I told him.
He nodded. “Really?”
I nodded right along with him. “The rising action, followed by the climactic scene. Gonna be explosive.”
“Oh, heavens,” he laughed. “My mistake. I forgot that it is customary for the new, British chap to hand out blowies to the resident bad boy in the loo.” He turned around and poured another cup of water.
He sipped some slowly; eyeing me carefully with a narrowed gaze, humming God Save The Queen under his breath. Then. Then. Then. He threw the rest in face, wetting me with the chilly liquid. Blinding me momentarily. I mean he was just a liquefied blur for a few seconds before I cleared my eyes of the water.
He placed the cup on the counter, handed me a napkin and forcefully shook my hand. “It was enchanting to me you, The Letter K.”
Then he walked off. Leaving me, wiping my face, and smirking to myself and mumbling a small, “challenge accepted, new kid.”
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