What should I cook tonight? Nah actually, I don’t know if I can be bothered, I’ll probably order something instead. Maybe I’ll watch something too, a movie, a show? Mum and dad are out and Peter is probably chain-smoking at his mates place, so I’ll have the house to myself. Oh, how I love my Friday afternoon.

“Alistair.”

My pencil froze, the half finished shading on the doodle at the top of my empty page stared back at me, urging me to answer the call.

“Yes miss,” I looked past my middle-aged teacher to the whiteboard with undecipherable symbols and figures scribbled across its face, I narrowed my eyes and pretended to think momentarily, “uhhh, I’m not sure.”

“Because you’re not listening,” her eyebrows rose and pulled the forming wrinkles around her eye.

“Yep. Sorry miss, won’t happen again,” a few snickers from my classmates caused my head to drop slightly, hopefully this was all the attention I’d receive for the rest of the day.

“Why don’t you come and sit a bit closer to the front,” she demanded rather than suggested.

Avoiding the pointless argument, I gave a begrudging sigh. I packed my books and pencils and trudged up the aisle away from the far back corner of the room, goodbye my beloved haven.

The only seat that was empty was one row back from the front, next to some dude I didn’t know the name of, and the star of the only claim to fame our high school had. Maxine Byers, now that was a name I remembered, especially since it was thrown in my face every morning when I walked into school. A banner with a glorious action shot of the dirty blonde athlete as she ran up the court, her name displayed in big bold letters.

I slumped into the seat, maybe I should actually pull my textbook out and start copying answers so it looks like I half know what I’m doing. You know when you spend a lot of time alone in your room on your computer and somehow that correlates to everyone thinking you’re some kind of super tech genius, well that might just be my mum but still. It’s constant nagging from her complimented by the most half-hearted backing from my dad about how smart I am and how I need to bunker down and get good grades in my final year to get into a good degree to get a good job and it just goes on and on.

Fried from a week of school, my brain defaulted to complain to myself mode while I continued to scribble whatever little character I had started to doodle. Hopefully I was still far enough away that Miss Cress didn’t notice the abundance of nothing on my page.

“That’s cool.”

I glanced at the whisper that broke my concentration. Maxine’s cheek was squished against her palm as she eyed my notebook. She was dressed in a sweatshirt and tight athletic shorts and her slouched form gave the impression she was just as bored as I was.

“Thank you,” I replied quietly. Though now I felt incredibly awkward as she continued to watch my page.

“Are you gonna keep drawing?” another whisper grabbed my attention.

“I… don’t know,” self-conscious of the fact someone was staring at my half-hearted art, coupled with the fact that it was Maxine Byers made my cheeks feel red, I mean they were definitely red.

A soft noise of acknowledgement came from Maxine as she leaned back in her chair, leaving me back to my own devices.

Miss Cress addressed the class some more before she let us devolve into open discussion and group work for the last ten minutes of class. Conversation began to fill the room. I looked to the guy next to me, hopeful we could say a quick greeting and then sit in silence until we could leave, but no, he was already in deep debate with his friends behind. I slumped further into my seat, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

“Your name’s Alistair, right?” Maxine’s voice was no longer a whisper.

“Yep,” I confirmed

“I’m Maxine,” she paused for a moment, “you watch basketball?”

Realising she was still talking to me, I spun to face her, “like, the NBA?”

“Yeah.”

“A little bit, my brother loves it,” I replied. I’ve coasted most of my schooling life without any meaningful conversations with classmates, so why now, when we are more than halfway through the year, was she choosing to speak to me.

“Cool,” her chair groaned slightly as she leaned back to stretch, in the hopes of not looking like a perv I snapped my focus forward once again. “You know our team is in the quarters?”

Oh, so that’s why she’s talking to me. This was all just a ploy to get as many people as possible to buy into the school’s bullshit camaraderie. I see it plastered everywhere, lockers, notice boards, any flat surface with enough space to advertise our sports teams as if they’re professional superstars. Yeah, I’ll pass.

My inner monologue betrayed my timid answer, “Oh, um yeah.”

“You should come, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at a game,” she said.

Fat chance Maxine, “yeah maybe.”

The resounding alarm of the bell filled me with a sense of relief, I wouldn’t have to force this conversation anymore. In unison, everyone began to pack their belongings, desperate to escape into the weekend.

“Alright, well I’ll see you tonight then, it starts at 7 in the gym,” Maxine’s chair squeaked along the ground as she stood, with that she spun on her wheels and strutted out the class. My pants would be on fire if I said I didn’t let my eyes linger as she left. She was tall, clearly taller than those who claim to be six foot, and her legs. Damn. Long and shapely, a layer of femininity covered hard earned muscles, they flexed with each step she took, her beautiful ass bounced along with the movements.

God, maybe I should go to the game.

***

Did I end up going to the game on Friday? Nope. Do I regret it? Also nope. Instead I opted to steal some bud off my brother and watched movies until I fell asleep. Another successful Friday afternoon, much preferable compared to inflating the egos of narcissistic 18-year-olds on my school’s basketball team.

During the week I had returned to my humble abode in the back corner of the room for Miss Cress’ class, and admittedly I’d been avoiding Maxine after going against her request. It’s not like she’d do anything (I hope), but I really didn’t want to have that interaction.

Another Friday afternoon rolled around, the pep in my step had ultimately left me for dead much earlier in the week. I plodded into the class, huh, Maxine wasn’t in her usual spot. With a quiet ‘hello’ to my teacher I turned down the aisle and paused. Maxine was sitting at the usually empty desk next to mine, her curly blonde hair in a bun while she twirled a pen in her hands.

“Hey Alistair,” she said as I approached.

I hesitantly put my things next to the desk, “hi.”

“Why didn’t you come last Friday?” She asked.

Ah, there it is. “Oh, I had something come up.”

That somehow earned a short chuckle from Maxine, “sure.”

I gave her an inquisitive look as I took my seat, not really sure of the game she was playing.

The class was underway and I was once again not listening. Too preoccupied with my drawing of a woman in a sundress picking a rose, I was particularly impressed with myself for this one. My own boredom induced musings aren’t usually under the lens of critique since most desks adjacent are typically empty. Not today though.

“You’re really good at that,” Maxine’s whisper made me jump a little, a discreet sound of amusement escaped her. Who let this girl become so goddamn nosey.

“Thanks,” I returned with a quick side glance, I shifted forward slightly in an attempt at privacy.

“Where’d you learn to draw,” she asked, her head was turned towards me as it rested between her two fists.

I could feel the blood starting to rush towards my cheeks, “um, I taught myself.”

“Nice, that’s really cool,” she complimented, before shifting her attention towards the front of the class. Letting a few more minutes pass before she piped up again.

“We won last week by the way.”

“Good job,” I replied disinterestedly.

I heard a huff of frustration, “sooo, we're playing in the semis tonight and I think you should come.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because I want you to,” she said, her eyebrow raised.

I was properly confused now. Why, why, why was she giving me this attention all of a sudden, and so I asked, “yeah but why me?”

We looked each other in the eyes for a moment, her bright blue iris’ twitched ever so slightly as they addressed me, “because-“

“Ahem.”

Our eyes widened as we spun around to face Miss Cress who stared us down with her arms crossed under her bust. My face was burning in embarrassment, from being called out to whatever words were about to utter from Maxine’s lips.

“Sorry miss,” we both said in unison.

A quiet spell fell over the two of us for the remainder of the class, until the last few minutes. I felt a poke on my arm and looked over to see Maxine motioning to her page where a crude stick figure sitting at a desk was drawn, at least I think that’s what it was supposed to be.

“It’s you,” she mouthed.

It was my turn to let a soft expulsion of air escape my nose, for some odd reason I couldn’t wipe the smirk off my face as I shook my head. So stupid.

“Will you please come tonight?” she smiled as she scribbled out the doodle. I had to admit, her smile was charming and I was starting to believe maybe this wasn’t a ploy to rally more students for the games.

“Maybe,” I offered.

This time Maxine fully turned to me in her chair, her hands clasped together with a feigned expression of pain and sorrow “come on, pretty please.”

“Oh my god, fine,” she was driving a hard bargain, and I couldn’t resist much longer, “I’ll come.” How bad could it be.

The final bell was the soundtrack to Maxine’s beaming smile as she stood up, “Sweet, it starts same time as last week. I’ll drop 30 for you,” she said before sauntering out the room before anyone else. Leaving me sitting there with that same badly hidden dorky smirk plastered across my face.

A single phrase repeated itself inside my head, one that had never crossed it before. Is she flirting with me?