Mixtures 🤷🏽♀️

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“Oh, you didn’t have to.” The teacher said, taking Margo’s math homework. On their canvas, he had posted the homework for today, but since she was new, she wasn’t obligated to do it. However, she did it anyway.

“It was easy.” Her confident response as she handed him the paper earned her an impressed look from the teacher, and Miles, sitting beside her, couldn't help but pause. Easy? Sure, it wasn't a particularly challenging assignment, but he had spent a good 25 minutes working on it. He wanted to be miffed, but he found her sharp intellect undeniably attractive.

Come on, Miles, get it together!! He subtly slapped himself, trying to refocus. He already had enough on his mind and wanted to learn more about her without letting his attraction deepen, but at the rate he was going, it seemed like a missed target.

"Show off," Isabel said, playfully poking the back of Margo's head with her notebook.

“I know.” Margo smiled.

“You can try, but our Miles has been in first place in the school since his freshman year. Just wanted to let you know so you don’t waste your time studying,” Pav yelled from the back, giving the new girl a friendly heads-up in case she had any funny ideas about competing for the first place, and by the look of it, everyone thought the same.

A challenge? Margo thought to herself, a mischievous smile stretching across her face. So aside from being cute, he was also smart, huh? It really was always the good ones, wasn't it?

“Well,” she couldn't help but turn toward Miles instead of Pav, who quickly straightened his back, meeting her gaze, his heart doing a little dance in his chest. He couldn't help it, and it was seriously scaring the heck out of him.

“I never went below first place in my old school,” she said, locking her fingers, placing her chin on top of them, looking at him defiantly.

He took the bait, leaning toward her as he spoke. “Well, like you said, THAT was at your OLD school. Last time I checked, I was still ahead." Despite his calm expression, his words had some bite to them.

Cocky too, was he? She smiled before mimicking him. “Well, like YOU SAID, that was LAST time you checked. When was that, months? Weeks ago. Just watch out for this semester, okay, pookie?”

That comment caused a rush of heat to his cheeks, every single retort that Miles had vanished, rendering him momentarily speechless as he lost the argument.

Margo smiled widely, basking in the victory of their playful banter, at the same time Isabel muttered to her. “Don’t trip.” Reminding her of their earlier conversation about the fact that Miles wasn't typically attracted to girls like them.

“Well,” the teacher said, handing Margo the stack of homework. “Mind taking this to my office? My back ain’t what it was.” She explained passing her work to Margo, something she often did to the new students.

"She's lying!” One student yelled, and Margo laughed, brushing that comment off as she took the stack of paper, saying, “I’d love to.”

“Ohhhh, Miles, your statue of the golden student is at risk,” someone teased, and as she walked out, Margo laughed, shaking her head.

“As if,” he said, standing up before yelling, “I’ll help her with it." Without waiting for an answer, he hurried out of the room. It might have appeared as though he was attempting to compete, but in reality, he simply wanted to talk to her.

To better understand what was going on and how he could fix it. He tried to convince himself that he was primarily concerned about his public image rather than what she thought about him, but deep down, he knew that that was a lie even he himself didn't believe.

“Let me help with that." He swiftly caught up with Margo and gently took the stack out of her hands.

“I’m ain’t even gonna argue with you about that," she chuckled in agreement. With the stack in his hands, the thought hit Miles. One that drowned his heart in sorrow, With him holding everything, she had no reason to go to the office anymore; she could return. His deer-like eyes shifted toward Margo and to his surprise, she picked up one of the homework sheets up and walked beside him. He raised an eyebrow, silently asking, "What's that for?"

Margo noticed the question in his expression and spoke, showcasing the paper she was holding. “If they ask why I’m out here,"

“Your out here to hold one piece of paper?” he questioned, a playful smile playing on his lips.

“Nah, Imma, just say I wanted to help you carry the rest, but you INSISTED that you could hold them.”

“I never did that.”

“In my head, you did,” she joked, causing a smile to erupt on his face, almost making him forget what he was actually here for.

Even as a comfortable silence settled in, Miles still felt a bit uncomfortable with his thoughts. He stole a glance at Margo, pondering what exactly they had told her. What did he do? He had gotten into a couple of fights, sure, but nothing major, no detention or expulsion. So what did she know that he didn't? What caused that look in her eyes? Like a detective with an enigma he was gonna get to the bottom of it.

He playfully bumped into her, and she looked at him with a raised brow. No matter what emotion she wore, it always had the same effect on him. He wondered if he could ever have the same effect on her…

“Are you gonna spill it?” His question was vague, but the way Margo’s eyes instantly averted from his told him that she knew what he was talking about.

She was gorgeous, cocky, and smart. She was everything that spelled trouble for him, and yet he couldn’t stop following her around like a lost puppy in love. It has only been a few hours! A freaking few hours.

“I don’t snitch,” Margo replied, struggling to actually keep it quiet. She wanted to ask him the question herself and hear it directly from him, but that would be awkward?

“So that whole thing was about me, huh?” He deduced from her comment, and Margo's eyes went wide with realization. She rapidly covered her mouth as if trying to take back her words, Cute, but it was too late.

Miles uttered those same words with a smile. “Too late.” So now he knew that little comment was about him, but what exactly did it mean?

It’s always the good ones. Don’t trip. Don’t forget what we told you. What exactly did they mean?

As she spoke, Margo’s words were tangled with a hint of admiration. “You're smart. I hate it.”

“Well, so are you,” Miles replied, leaning toward her, unable to stop himself. “I like that.” He let his words slip without thinking, and Margo froze in her step. Miles looked at her, concerned.

“You oka–” Before he could finish asking his question, his words settled within himself. Shit, could he have been more obvious?

Normally, he would have blurted out an excuse or an explanation, but the way she tried to hide her face in her jacket—the slight blush on her cheek—only made her more endearing. Even if he couldn’t reach her he could at least look. He couldn't take back what he said; he didn't want to.

“Funny.” Margo was the one to break the silence, kicking her feet back and forth before wrapping her arms around herself, as if she were preparing to say something she didn't want to, something that made her vulnerable.

Miles swallowed thickly waiting for her to speak.

“I thought you didn’t like the sisters.”

“Who said that?” The boy was quick to catch on. The sentence was odd. Usually it takes a few minutes for someone to understand what she meant, but he got it that fast and was able to find the missing piece of the puzzle that he needed. So that's what they were talking about? That’s what all those words meant.

He took a step forward, forcing Margo to look up. The stack of paper being the only thing between them. “Who said that?” Miles asked once more. No matter how hard he delved into his brain and memories, he couldn’t find a time we’re he uttered those words, even as a joke. That thought never even occurred to him. It would be quite the opposite if he had to choose.

Sensing her reluctance to speak, he could only wait, but perhaps his phone was a paid actor that he didn't know, because it lit up, signaling that a message had been received, and he watched a light flicker in Margo’s eyes as she reached for the phone in his hand. He let her take it as she showed him the wallpaper.

“Almost every girl said so, and I think this might be the reason why.”

The reason why, he thought, Squinting to see what she was seeing that he wasn't. He was searching way too far for an answer that was just in front of him. The wallpaper was a photo of him and Gwen.

Something clicked, and he retorted. “Tha–that's nothing.”

“Well, it means a lot to the girls in our class. Half of them like you but think you like white girls because of how hard and how long you have been after her.”

Oh—

His eyes widened. That was two pieces of information he just received, and the first one was less believable than the second one. Half of the girls? Yeah, right.

He did hear a couple of times them calling him cute, but they used the same tone his grandma used when calling him cute, so credibility jumped out of the window, and the boys did call him naive and blind, but he just thought they were messing with him. But holy... was he that good-looki– Focus, Miles!!!!

He reached for the phone that was still in the air, holding Margo’s hand with it. She tried to look at it, but his head placed against hers kept her face facing his.

What was he doing? He had no idea, but he wanted to take a risk.

“I don't,” he said, staring back into her eyes. Their noses were brushing, and his minty breath fanning her face. He observed how she closed her eyes, attempting to recollect herself. He was the reason for that, and god did he like it.

“I really don't.” He knew saying it the first time got the message across, but saying it once more was a hidden message, something more intime. It wasn't just specifying that he was interested in black girls, but her more specifically.

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