Falling For You by Ana Fuentes (best contemporary novels .txt) 📕

“What is going on in here?” someone says.
The three of us turn to look at where the sound came from.
I spot a grandma looking lady with all white hair, in khaki dress pants, and a black long sleeved shirt. Her expression isn’t one of anger, but she is looking at us weirdly.
She must be the detention lady teacher thing.
She looks nice.
Or is she a witch in disguise?
“Luke,” the lady begins.
Both Michael and me turn our attention to Luke.
A look of triumph shines in Luke’s eyes, but it quickly fades away, and gets replaced by fear.
I turn around to look at Michael, and realize why Luke is suddenly scared.
Michael must be silently threating him.
Luke swallows his fear, and opens his mouth to speak.
“I-He- I mean I was just-” he stops, and shrugs “you know introducing myself”.
The lady narrows her eyes as if debating whether he’s lying or telling the truth.
“Oookaayy” she says, and then goes back out the door from where I’m guessing she came from.
Wow.
Really?
She just leaves like that. Leaving me alone with these two boys once again.
I turn to looks at Michael, and to my great comfort he’s not angry still.
Phew.
No fight then.
I sit down on the seat, and let out a breath.
I take out my IPhone, and check if I have any new messages.
I don’t.
I feel a sinking feeling in my stomach.
I had been hoping that Dylan would have texted me, or something.
But apparently he didn’t.
I look to my sides, to see if the boys are still standing next to me, but they’re not.
The detention teacher, comes back, and goes over to a long desk, covered with magazines.
Well, at least I know what she does here all day.
Read.
Well, er, more like look at magazines.
She sits down in her desk, looks at us, grabs a magazine, looks at us one last time, and then shifts her full attention to her magazine.
I lean back against my chair, and check my phone again.
Still, no new messages.
I grab my backpack, take out a notebook, and a pencil, and then set it back against my chair. I open the notebook to a fresh blank page, and start my history report.
**********
I make my way up to my room, and once I reach it, I get in. I dump my backpack on the floor, and flop down on my bed.
God, I am exhausted.
But I have work to do.
I check my phone again, hoping that by some miracle, Dylan ha decided to call me, or text me.
To my great disappointment he hasn’t.
Is he mad at me?
I feel tears burn in my eyes.
He is mad at me, isn’t he?
What did I do wrong?
We’ve been friends since Freshmen year.
We get along just fine.
Is it because of the whole hang up in detention?
Oh, no.
How will I explain to him, that I didn’t hang up on him.
That it was someone else.
I blink the tears away, and get up from my bed.
Forget Dylan.
It’s not my fault if he suddenly wants to act Bi-Polar on me.
I drop my phone on my bed, and turn my back on to it.
I’m not going to check anymore.
I’m just wasting my time.
If he doesn’t want to call me, then fine.
So be it.
Like I said earlier I have homework to finish.
I go over to my desk, and grab my laptop. I open it, and wait for it to load.
I turn back to face my bed, laptop in hand, and look at my phone.
I have the strong urge to go check it again, and se-
No!
I Will Not Check It.
I Will Not.
“Fuck you Dylan” I mutter.
I go over to my bed, and lay down on it, I set my laptop in front of me.
I log in, and go to Microsoft Word Starter.
I look over at my phone, and clench my teeth.
There I go again.
I slap my phone away, causing it to fall on the ground.
“That’s more like it” I say, satisfied.
I take a deep breath, grab my notebook from my backpack, and start typing my essay.
**********
Just as I’m about to finish, my phone starts to ring.
“I Love you 1, a 2, a 3 shobee-doo, I love you 4, that’s more than I can afford, and I can tell someday, that I’m gunna say the truth”
It takes me a second to realize what’s happening.
My phone is ringing.
Omg, My phone is ringing!!
I scramble out of bed, fast, one question burning in my mind.
Is it Dylan?
I hope.
My heart races at 60 miles per hour, when I pick up my phone.
I don’t even bother to check if it really is him.
“Hello” I say out of breath.
“Oh, hey honey” my mom says on the other end of the line.
I feel my heart break.
It wasn’t Dylan.
Tears burn in my eyes once again.
He didn’t call.
I stay silent afraid that if I speak, my voice will break.
“Honey, are you till there?” my mom asks.
I don’t speak.
“Baby is everything alright?” she asks me, her voice starting to hit a worried tone.
“Zoin, talk to me” she pressures.
I open my mouth to talk but nothing comes out.
I try again.
“I’m fine mom?” I say.
Glad that my voice didn’t break, like I thought it would have.
A couple of seconds pass, and then my mom speaks.
“Oh, okay honey, I just wanted to tell you that your dad and me, while arrive a little late” she says.
“Okay mom, see ya later” I say.
“Bye Zoin” she says.
I hang up, and let my phone fall to the ground.
Not caring if I break it.
“It wasn’t Dylan” I mutter.
He really IS mad at me, then.
Oh, God.
I go back to my be, and finish typing my paper. I then print it, and put it in my binder.
I close my computer, and go take a shower.
Still thinking about Dylan.
**********
I come out of the bathroom, and into my room, after a long hot shower.
I change into some black pajama bottoms, and a black tank top.
I climb into bed, and snuggle in into the blankets, I stare up at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to consume me.
After about an hour of waiting, I feel myself finally slipping into darkness.
***** I open my eyes, and take a deep breath.
An over-welling sweet smell attacks me.
Dylan.
It smells like Dylan.