Honey

7. Its A Numbers Game.

It wasn't before tonight that I realised that texting the boy you have a massive crush on, and a glass of vodka do not mix very well.

I sighed in frustration as I poured the remaining vodka in the glass down the sink. I was still in shock that I actually said that. Well, I didn't exactly say it, I typed it. I suppose that's a little better but still, no matter how it came out, I still meant what I said. He looked drop dead gorgeous. When I saw the picture all I could think about was cuddling up beside him, feeling his warmth radiate through me as we both fell asleep, together.

I know. I have a serious problem. But, we'll discuss that later. I entered the living room, glancing at my phone that I had turned off and thrown across the room, not literally, the minute I read his response.

So you do think I'm hot.

What the hell is that supposed to mean?! I mean, yeah. I do think he's hot, like every time I see him all I want to do is rip his clothes off. Maybe that's a bit much but it was still true.

Oh no. What if, what if he shows it to his friends and his friends will show it to their friends and sooner or later the whole school will know. Oh god. This is not good. But. He wouldn't do that. Would he? I mean he doesn't seem like the type.

He was always nicer than the rest of the football gang. It's actually weird that he's the one I hated. I think I just used it to mask the fact that I was crazily attracted to him.

I slumped down on the couch, slowly turning on my phone to see what else he said. I actually did throw my phone across the room this time. It hit the carpeted floor with a loud 'thud.' The message said....

Thomas:
You're hot too, oh, and don't forget cute.

******

I prepared myself for the onslaught of stares and quiet whispers directed towards me as I entered through the gates of hell. I presumed that Thomas had told everyone about what I said, even though I was pretty sure he wouldn't. I just wanted to be safe rather than sorry.

Surprisingly, not a single head turned when I walked through the doors, making my way to my locker swiftly. Relief washed over me when I realised that Thomas hadn't said anything.

I opened my locker, pulling out the books I needed like I did every morning. Except, it didn't feel like a typical morning. It felt strange, almost like I was being watched. I wondered if I was wrong as I turned to see if anyone was. I was indeed wrong, as I looked around I saw everyone going about their days, not paying any attention to me. Although I still couldn't shake the feeling.

That's when I saw him. Thomas. He was leaning against his locker, arms crossed over his chest, staring directly at me. He was on his own this time which made me wonder where the rest of the jocks were.

He smiled when we made eye contact, which I held for a second or two before turning back to my locker, closing it and locking it. I walked slowly in his direction, hoping he wouldn't take any notice of me anymore. I needed to walk past him to get to class.

As I got closer I noticed that his eyes were still trained on me. Never leaving me for a second. They trailed up and down my figure multiple times. Was he checking me out? No, hardly. I walked right by him, both of us merely inches away from one another. I didn't look up to meet his eyes, instead I let them roam the ground.

As I was about to pass him he suddenly put out his arm, stopping me in my tracks. I looked up then to stare into his deep blue eyes. I opened my mouth to ask him to move but I was cut off.

"Here," he said, handing me a small, folded up piece of paper, I took it, wondering what it could be, "it's my number, so you don't have to be up in my DMs all the time."