Title: I Want You to Mean It.
Fandom: All Time Low.
Pairing(s?): Alex Gaskarth/Jack Barakat, maybe others as the story progresses.
Summary: When I first lay my eyes on Alexander William Gaskarth, I could have sworn that he was nothing but another example of why some people should never reproduce under any circumstance. Now? Well… Let's just say I'm a bit on the fence about him.
Rating: T, for now; subject to change.

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one - beginning. (869 words)

When I first lay my eyes on Alexander William Gaskarth, I could have sworn that he was nothing but another example of why some people should never reproduce under any circumstance. From what I'd gathered, I'd assumed he was a shameless rebel with a knack for driving people up the wall with his obnoxious attitude. He wore arrogance like a favorite pair of skinny jeans, and if I had to see that smug smirk play at his lips one more time… Although in reality, everyone knew that I'd never have the guts to just go up to somebody and knock their lights out.

I'd hated Alex so much since the moment I met him, and he has never spoken a word to me since he transferred from some fancy private school in Essex. Maybe that's why he thought he was so much better than everybody else - we Americans supposedly go gaga for the Brits, and he knew that so well that he was going to use that as an advantage. So far, his natural European charm, and maybe some other things, has gotten him a top spot on our football team, the head cheerleader on his arm, and a reputation for being one of the most well-liked (yet most-disliked as well) guys around.

Now? Well… Let's just say I'm a bit on the fence about him.

—-

I could have easily avoided any sort of contact with Alex if we hadn't gotten stuck in the same Honors English class. When I saw him in the back corner, looking like he'd rather watch paint dry than sit in the classroom, I was honestly a bit puzzled. My cynicism had apparently overlooked the fact that oh, yeah, Alex is also a straight-A student. Go figure.

Chocolate eyes darted towards me the moment I stepped in, my checkered Vans squeaking softly against the tiled floor. Something in my chest sparked, heat coursing through my veins as I felt Alex looking at me. I really had no reason to feel apprehensive when he noticed me, yet I wanted to do nothing more than crawl under a rock at that very moment if just to escape his staring.

Nobody else had showed up yet, so I took the opportunity to snag a seat in the middle of the room. Not close enough to the front to be considered an absolute loser, yet not far enough in the back to have to associate with the more raucous of the students that were going to be inhabiting this room at this time every day for a semester.

"Hey, Barakat," he hissed, as if we were in a room crowded with people trying to study instead of one in which he was one of a grand total of two people. "Do I reek or something? Or are you just trying to avoid me?"

Mr. Anderson, our teacher, padded in with an easy smile on his face before I had to answer, much to my relief; he seemed truly happy to be back in the very place most of us called our prison. The balding man glanced around the room at the desks that were slowly filling up before his eyes fell on me.

"Good morning, Mr. Barakat," he greeted warmly. He'd taught my English class my freshman year as well, so he had to have remembered that I was probably one of the only students in that class that didn't give him the desire to fashion a noose out of one of the tacky neckties he wore every day.

"Morning, Mr. A," I replied with a half-smile as I leaned down to pull a binder out of my backpack, although I doubted I would really need it. The first day was always one of the easiest of the year, although it could quite possibly be one of the most stressful as well. "Did you have a good summer?"

The small snort of disdain coming from the back of the classroom was unmistakably Alex's doing, but Mr. Anderson either didn't notice it or merely paid no mind as he answered, "Indeed I did. A wonderful one, even. But now it's time again to hit the books and learn about the literary wonders of the world."

I resisted the temptation to roll my eyes at the unbridled passion and enthusiasm the man had for language and literature. It was sort of inspiring, in a weird way; if only I had something to really put every ounce of my heart and soul into the way he did. I honestly didn't know what I was going to do once I was out of Maryland, now that I thought about it. I had no passion for anything that was going to carry me to the success that my parents so wanted me to have in life.

Before I could get too wrapped up in my thoughts, the rest of the students that I'd be sharing an hour and a half of my day every day for the semester with poured into the room. The bell chimed its existence throughout the entire school, and before I knew it, what would become the most confusing year of my high school life had begun.