ᯓ★ Field trips were supposed to be fun.
For most people, that meant sitting with friends, blasting music through one earbud, and causing just enough chaos that the teachers couldn’t technically get mad.
For Drew Starkey, apparently, it meant making your life difficult for three straight hours.
The second the teachers announced everyone could choose their own seats, Drew ditched his friends without a second thought.
“Dude, seriously?” one of them called after him.
“What?” Drew asked innocently.
“We were gonna sit together.”
“Oh.”
A pause.
“That sucks, man.”
Then he slid into the seat beside you before they could argue further—you immediately laughed while his friends looked personally betrayed.
That should’ve been your first warning.
The bus had barely been moving for twenty minutes when Drew got bored, and a bored Drew was always a problem.
You were scrolling through your phone when you suddenly felt something heavy drop onto your shoulder.
You didn’t even need to look.
“Drew.”
“What?”
“Get off.”
“No.”
“Drew.”
“Nope.”
You sighed dramatically while he grinned against your shoulder.
The worst part was that he kept moving every few seconds—Adjusting, scooting closer, practically trying to merge into your side.
“Drew.”
“What?”
“Sit normally.”
“I am sitting normally.”
“You are literally laying on me.”
“Exactly.”
Before you could answer, you felt him nudge his face against your shoulder.
Then—a tiny nip.
You immediately jerked. “DREW.”
He started laughing, actually laughing. “What?”
“You just bit me.”
“It wasn’t a bite.”
“It absolutely was.”
“It was a nibble.”
You stared at him then sarcastically— “Huge difference.”
“I’m affectionate.”
“You’re weird.”
He looked far too proud of that.
A few minutes later he did it again, a quick little fake bite against your shoulder.
You shoved his forehead and he nearly fell into the aisle laughing.
Later, after he’d finally stopped acting like an overgrown golden retriever, you opened your camera.
Drew immediately looked over. “What are you doing?”
“Taking pictures.”
“Oh.”
His face instantly lit up.
You rolled your eyes. “Don’t make it weird.”
Too late—the second the camera opened, Drew stuck his tongue out.
Click.
“Drew.”
Click.
Now he was crossing his eyes.
Click.
You were laughing so hard you nearly dropped your phone.
“Can you take one normal picture?”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
You sighed dramatically then leaned against his shoulder anyway.
Click.
This one was actually cute.
For about two seconds right before Drew kissed your cheek at the exact moment the photo was taken.
You groaned and e looked very pleased with himself.
And every few minutes he’d randomly steal a kiss every time you looked at him.
“Drew.”
“What?”
You buried your face in your hands. “I’m never surviving this.”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“I’m being dramatic?”
“Yeah.”
“You’ve kissed me like twenty times.”
Drew thought for a second then shrugged. “I can do more.”
“Drew.”
“What?”
“Drew.”
He laughed and pulled you closer anyway.
At some point, you actually tried to listen to music.
Tried.
Because every five minutes Drew wanted your attention.
Look at this, watch this, guess what, babe, baby, babe.
“What?” you finally asked.
Drew smiled. “I forgot.”
You stared at him.
His grin only widened.
Three hours should’ve felt long.
Instead, they somehow disappeared between blurry selfies, stolen snacks, random conversations, Drew pretending to bite you every chance he got, and his constant need to be touching you somehow.
Then he saw you smiling at your phone from a text your girlfriend group chat sent you. And ofcourse, he was jealous.
He raised an eyebrow and smoothly took it from your grip. “Whoops.”