I sat silently next to Mitchell. His skin felt cold. The dim lights set the perfect mood. I watched intently. This was it.

We were going to talk to Hitler.

I was secretly holding Mitchell's hand under the table, him not wanting anyone anyone to notice after the uproar that had ensued when we walked into class holding hands last time.

-

"Oh my god, babes!" Chantelle had gasped.

"What's this, then?" Stephen had latched onto me.

"Gay!" Rem Dogg had yelled from the back of the classroom, causing Mitchell to tear his hand away from mine and cover his face a little.

He had a reputation, which certainly was not lovey dovey.

-

"Is Hitler sleepin or sumfin?" Mitchell asked Alfie, tired of waiting.

"Too busy sucking ghost dick," Rem remarked.

"Hitler was not gay, Rem Dogg, he had a wife," Alfie looked at him with an 'I'm better than you' look on his face.

Alfie would forever be stuck as an eleven year old in a middle-aged man's body.

"It's called a beard," Rem gave Alfie the same look, "Even Mitch has one."

"He wot?" Alfie raised an eyebrow at Mitchell.

"I don't have a beard!" Mitchell tried to ignore Rem Dogg but couldn't.

"What, so you're openly gay?" Alfie was incredibly slow, "Good for you, Mitchell!"

"No!" He yelled, "I am straight... and single."

He looked at Rem Dogg with his eyes slanted, trying to let him know he was pissed, but really he just looked like a penis.

I sighed a little. I mean, we weren't together. But hearing him say he was single still cut a little. Especially when I wasn't sure if he would ever call me his.

I decided to stay silent; this wasn't my place.

"So who did you think was his beard then?" Alfie questioned.

Every single person in the class turned to look at me.

Suddenly, Fraser, the principal, burst into the room. Saved by the bell. He looked ridiculous, as usual. He began to nag Alfie about being a coach for a soccer match. He obviously had no idea what he was talking about.

I was uninterested, until I realised what Middleton House, the school we were up against, was. It was Alfie's old school. Oh shit. Alfie's chance to get back at them for bullying him.

Well, we didn't get to talk to Hitler, but it was an interesting lesson nonetheless.

-

I decided to not talk to Mitchell for the rest of the day. Far too awkward after the morning. Not to mention, he'd seemed embarrassed by me. I began to feel like his reputation was more important than whatever we had, and I certainly did not want that if I was going to be serious with him.

-

The next morning, Alfie walked into class late, wearing what he seemed to think was a stylish sports outfit.

I saw this as the perfect opportunity to prove to Mitchell that I could be a 'bad girl'. I wasn't just some prissy, posh twat. I could be funny. I could make fun of Alfie.

"You look like a right nonce," I called out, leaning back in my chair and turning my head to raise my eyebrows at Mitchell.

Him and Rem laughed a little. Mitchell went to hold my hand under the table again and I pulled away. That'll show him to be embarrassed of me. I got a few looks from the class. I guess I wasn't acting like myself.

It was all fun and games until he started calling us 'team'.

Everyone questioned why he was doing so. Somehow, Alfie seemed to believe that we would help him with the soccer match. Because, also somehow, he had lost two entire teams already.

We were all completely against it, but somehow still ended up agreeing. I was surprised he didn't offer us beers this time though.

-

We were all sat in the locker room, talking and waiting for the first half to begin.

Everyone was distracted being loud, dumb idiots, so Mitchell turned to me. Of course he only would while no one was paying attention.

"Why'd you pull your hand away earlier?" He had a serious look on his face.

I could tell he was hurt by my actions.

"Funny how you'll only talk to me about it now, while no one's watching," I scoffed at him.

Maybe I was overreacting, but he was being a bit of a dickhead.

"That's not i-" I cut him off.

"Also funny how you only held my hand after I made a comment that was unlike me," I stared at him intently, making him feel incredibly uncomfortable, "Either like me for me and don't be embarrassed by it, or go find some dumbass you can be proud of who'll be in jail before she's twenty."

I got up and walked across the room to sit with Chantelle and Stephen.

"Trouble in paradise?" He asked.

I just rolled my eyes and changed the topic.

-

Throughout the match, Chantelle and I began to use our bodies to distract the other team. We would pull down our shirts to show cleavage, or bend over to show off our asses. It was a good tactic, and it really worked. We scored countless goals using it, but every time I did it, I looked over at Mitchell and saw him scowling.

He looked annoyed, but also upset. I was glad. Maybe now he would realise how much of a dickhead he was being.

-

Once the match was over and we'd tied, I sat with Chantelle and Stephen on one of the picnic tables outside Abbey Grove.

"When are you gonna make up with Mitchell?" Chantelle sighed, "I love you babes, but this is ridiculous."

"He's embarrassed by me!" I exclaimed, "And the only time he really likes me is when I act like a bellend."

"So talk it out with him," Stephen rolled his eyes.

"I agree he's being unreasonable. I mean, you're a catch, babes," Chantelle added, "But if you really like him, you should fix it."

My phone buzzed and I opened it to read the message.

"It's Mitchell," I sighed.

'Meet me in our history class. I know I've been dumb. Let me fix this.'

I showed Chantelle and Stephen the message.

"Should I go?"