As I peddled down to the intersection, I wasn't paying attention, and didn't look both ways. I built up speed to cross the street. It was okay, no one ever went on this road anyway. Then as soon as I went three feet out of the small road I bumped into someone on a bike. I apologized and helped him pick up the things from his bag that spilled across the street.
"I'm so sorry I'm such a clutz. Hey, You're bleeding!"
He said.
"It's fine, I can get a bandaid on it when I get home."
"No, you need to get to a hospital. Now! I can see the fat in your knee!"
I looked down, which was the last thing I remember doing.
The bicycle guy waited for me in the hospital waiting room as I got my stitches. He told me that he called his mom and told her he would be home a little later. Bike dude had short yet shaggy brown hair and dark blue eyes. He had on a white shirt and tan shorts.
Unluckily for me, the rip in my dress was huge, and it was bothering me. I asked the doctor to numb the area, and he responded with a simple yes.
"When was the last time this couch was cleaned? And have you made sure to clean all of
The equipment very thoroughly? Oh, can I call my parents too?"
"After I finish up the stitches, I'll give you a few quarters for the pay phone outside. How does that sound?" I just nodded and let him do his job.
I stepped outside of the hospital room and saw bike dude standing outside. I also saw him holding my phone, which I had conveniently left on the hospital seat.
"What are you doing?" I asked with a loud and angry voice.
"Um... I'm... Uh..." he said, his face red with embarrassment.
"What are you doing with my phone?" I said, slightly less angry.
"I'm putting in my number." He said quietly
"Oh," I blushed. I didn't even care for a second that he didn't wash his hands.
"Sorry, It's just I wanted you to know, that I'm, uh, reach, uh I mean, you know, uh.."
"It's okay, I get watch you mean" I said politely, my cheeks probably as red as tomatoes.
"Oh thank god, I'm not used to talking to pretty girls," He said and immediately went back to say "Sorry, that was cheesy, oh by the way, my name is Emmet"
"I'm.." But he ran off before I could finish.
Later that night I looked thourghly at my stitches to make sure they were perfectly clean. I also made sure to look at my phone where Emmet had put in his numer. Unfortunately, he hadn't finished before our little conversation. I grabbed the phone book from my parents dresser, gloves on, and went around looking for the first five numbers he had written into my phone. I trusted my guy and found a name that looked like it belonged to the boy. I rang up the number, hoping I found the correct number. This was how the conversation went:
"Hello?" the lady on the line asked.
"Hi, um do you know a guy, he's around 12-14 and has shaggy brown hair and blue eyes?" She answered with a simple no and then hung up. I tried again and again to find the correct number, but failed many times before stumbling upon this conversation:
"Hi. This is Maisie. I was wondering if you knew a guy with shaggy brown hair and-" I said in the most monotone voice I had. He stopped me mid sentence and sounded cheery on the other end of the line.
"Hi, yes. I haven't formally introduced myself. My name is Emmett." The line goes silent for a moment. I think he wants me to tell him my name, but I feel uncomfortable and hang up. I wait for a moment before calling him again and telling him I'm sorry. The phone buzzes before I get the chance and pick up.
"Did I say something wrong?" He asked with that sweet, honey-like tone of his.
"I'm sorry, no, I just. I'm not used to, I mean I" I probably sound like an idiot on the other side of the line .
"Don't worry. I almost hung up myself because I thought I was making you uncomfortable." Now I felt humiliated by kindness. Why was he being so nice?
"Uh Maisie?"
"Sorry, yes?"
"Did you mean to say that?"
"Say what?"
"You just said that..." I can hear someone yelling in the background.
"Sorry, I've got to go. I'll text you later." He hangs up after I say goodnight.
Oh no. I've never gotten a text from any boy besides my father before. What was I going to do when he told me whatever stupid thing I had said?
AUTHORS NOTE:
As you may know, this has a lot of errors. I am not perfection *says in Italian accent*
I wanted to let you guys know I'm sorry for the story delay. I've been working hard on finding the right way of showing the characters. As you probably know, I am not shy. So writing about a shy character is quite difficult.
QUESTIONS:
What do you think about Emmett so far?
What do you think Maisie said to Emmett during her daze?
You can reply to these questions with a comment.
Hope.I can update sooner. Hopefully will do so by next Thursday.
Love,
Livie
YOU ARE READING
OCD
General FictionA young girl is diagnosed with "OCD" and told she has to see a therapist. She's not an obsessive freak, is what she tells herself. Will she find her true identity, or will he be stuck with someone telling her she doesn't have to control everything I...
