The Scholar's True Feelings

-//-//- Phase 1 -//-//-
To observe her face was allowed, innocent notice made daily. The soft look of her lips and the temptation to taste them when they shinned naturally was nearly unbearable. Those bright beautiful eyes that reflected everything from the sun and sky to the grass and the reflection of his hazel eyes in hers when they looked at each other. He was not to look at her that way though. She was nothing more than a fellow student, a colleague not of equally academic standing but of maturity and mental equality. Her grades were fair yet nothing compared to his; their grades in English looked as if they were switched, her favored field obvious. She wore her long wild hair tight up in a bun to allow herself to work and her chest was small which allowed her to move around freely without restriction. She was always alert, jumping violently at every sudden movement made and every little sound to the dropping of a pencil to the footsteps of someone walking by the classroom. She sat down slouched in her chair during notes, her knees hitting the bottom of her desk when she put her feet on the bookrack of the chair in front of her. Her left arm rested protectively across her stomach as if trying to hide herself. When the room got too warm she had to remove the pullover she was generally seen with that hid her surprisingly slender frame. The girl knew how to work her body, building herself up to be as big as a bear and as fearsome as tiger, squaring her shoulders and puffing her already wide ribcage out to make herself become bigger. Or pulling her shoulders back and down, slouching slightly to make her look small and vulnerable, even weak. But that part of her was a lie. She could never be weak, never be vulnerable. Her dependency on him had grown over the years. Apparently she deemed him trustworthy, feeling safe around him. The corner of his lips tugged into a small grin at the sight of his dear friend half collapse on her desk, even more when their teacher ignored her. He looked at her with curiosity as she rested there, her body half turned at her waist to leave her back toward him. Her wild brown hair was falling out of its captive bun, sprawling over her desk in dark ripples. It looked so lush and soft. Her moment of peace was disturbed as she twitched violently in her seat causing him to react in turn. His eyebrows raised in skepticism, wondering what made her react in such an ungraceful way. Her lips moved, calling out a name in a hushed irritated voice, as if scolding her assailant. The boy on the other side of her grinned, a smug look on his face.
“Better stay up, Sleeping Beauty,” he teased, tilting his textbook toward her so she could get a look at the page number. She cursed silently under her breath that made the other boy raise his hand as if to strike her. She automatically cringed in actual fear, shrinking away from him muttering a thousand apologies.
How dare he! Threaten to strike a girl!
But he did not do anything, but watched. She was a big girl, she could take care of herself. Besides, he realized the other boy was only trying to get her to stop using such foul language. He himself did not like her using it one bit either. Surprisingly, the girl smiled at the other boy, sharing one of her grand playful smirks. Why did she forgive so easily? Could she not stand a minute without hate in her heart? She was fond of him. The way she moved the loose hair from her face when he looked at her. The way she smiled at him. The way she tried to look the best she could when they had this class. Why should he care? She was his friend. Nothing more. Sister maybe, but nothing more. He strangely could not look at her while she talked quietly to the other boy, pretending to look along in the book as their teacher read continuously. Soon he felt warm skin against his arm, pulling it down to expose the lower half of the book. He felt warmth against his face. She was leaning over so closely to him, just to see the page number; she had forgotten again after her conversation. When she smiled in apology to her intrusion, he forgave her as easily as she forgave the other boy.