Care

Chapter One: Love at First Flight

*Zach*

You know what? I hate Mondays. Like, with a passion. Especially first-day-of-school Mondays. They're the worst.

Like, why do they do that to us? The flying school administration, I mean. Why do they give us, like, three months of sleeping in and then suddenly, bam, you're back in the game, having to get up at the crack of dawn just to go to some sherry school in the middle of no flying where. Honestly, people. Have some respect.

Anyways, yeah, I've managed to get my butt to Westdale High, and horrors - I'm early. So I just, like, wait outside for the doors to open. I go to my favorite spot, right at the top of the stairs, to the side of one of those huge pillars. I just sorta lean against it, looking out at everyone, but not in a creepy way.

I'm kinda the wallflower type, ya know? Like, not really popular, but I "observe" people and sherry. I have friends, sure but I'm not, like, Mr. Super-Popular-Cover-Of-People-Magazine-Voted-Hottest-Guy-In-The-Universe-Every-Year, if you know what I mean.

I was popular for, like, five seconds my freshman year, when I let the cat out of the bag, and there were all these hot junior and senior dudes wanting to take me out and sherry, but after a while they got bored of me and moved on. I'm good, though. Especially now, since I've just found the cutest guy EVER.

Like, no joke. He's got this whole hipster-skater thing going, and he's totally working it. Beanie, thick-framed glasses, that weird, like, side-sweepy hair thing that us dudes can pull off - I actually tried that look for a while last year, but decided it wasn't working. But yeah.

I move forward a teensy tiny bit, feeling borderline stalker, to try to see him better, and that's when it happens. He looks up at me - like, right flying at me, meeting my eyes and all that sherry, and I overshoot my "teensy tiny step." Next thing I know, I'm tumbling down the stairs, coming to a stop right in front of Mr. Amazing. Total flying faceplant.

I can practically hear everyone stop what they're doing, wonder if I'm, like, worthy of the effort to laugh or sherry, then decide I'm not, and move on. I'm too embarrassed to get up for a minute, then realize that I probably look even more stupid lying here on the flying ground, so I pick myself up. Hipster-skater is still standing there. Oh sherry.

***

*Emerson*

Do you ever have that feeling that something big is about to happen? Yeah? Well, that's not how I felt this morning. I just felt tired. But that was before. Now, I'm wide awake.

Which...may or may not have anything to do with the fact that this totally hot dude just fell down the stairs and landed at my feet.

Whoops...hot? No, not hot...random. Yeah, random. Cos, you know, I like girls, and I don't think guys are hot. Nope.

Anyways, yeah, so I'm standing here...and standing here...AND STANDING HERE, and this guy won't fricken get up. What does he think this is, naptime?

I wish...

Finally, he drags himself up off the ground, and then sort of freezes when he sees me. I take this opportunity to give him a quick once-over. I mean, I kinda have the right to, don't I? Seeing as he nearly bowled me over in his little game of Faceplant.

He's tall-ish, with curly brown hair and blue eyes that stand out against his tan skin. I'm guessing junior, which makes him a year older than me. Hmm.

Not that I care or anything. I mean, since this dude just almost killed me, why would I care what grade he's in?

"Hey," I say, breaking him out of his deer-in-headlights moment.

"Uh...hey," he says back. Well, at least we know he can talk. That's good.

"I'm Emerson." I hold my hand out for him to shake, and he gives me this weird look. Oh shoot, what if nobody shakes hands around here? Is shaking hands a northerner thing?

But then the Suicide Faceplanter tentatively puts his hand out as well and shakes mine. His hands are soft and warm, not quite what you'd expect from someone so muscle-y and tan and - gah, stop thinking about his hands and muscles and stuff, Emerson!

"I'm Zach," he says. "Here, lemme see your schedule so I can see if we, like, have any classes together. Maybe I could show you around." I never would have expected him to talk like that. Using the word "like" like that, I mean. Valley-girl speech, my sister would call it.

"Wait, what year are you?" I ask him, confused. At my old school, different grades didn't have classes together. If I'm right about him being a junior, then it's possible we won't have any classes together.

"Junior," he replies. Called it.

"Oh. Do you - "

"Yeah, we have mixed classes. We actually have four classes together. And the same lunch."

Sweet. I mean...cool? Neat? No no no no no. It would be one thing if I was thinking that cuz it would mean I would know someone, but that's not why.

I'm straight. I know I am. I think I am?

Whatever. Either way...I think I may be experiencing one of those "love at first sight" things. Except more like love at first flight. You know, like a flight of stairs? Never mind.

Except...I barely know him. I only just found out his name. Zach. It's a nice name. But still. Zacherson isn't all that flattering.