Crocs Partner: Say Something

1| Say something

Hey Wattpadders!

I'm excited to announce that I have teamed up with Wattpad to write this entry on behalf of Crocs. Crocs allow you to express yourself without relying on words, and as someone who grew up as shy as the girl in my entry, being able to convey my thoughts without having to speak was always super important to me. That's why I can't wait to read your entries and discover all the ways you rock your Crocs. Enter the contest here, and don't forget to tag your entry with #WattCrocs to win!

Do it, Hallie. Say something.

Finn continues to stare at me, a touch of alarm on his otherwise handsome face. It's not yet eight, but the sun blazes through the locked basement window as if it's midday, dusting his cheeks in a warm, amber glow. Another hour of this, and our situation won't just be awkward but precarious.

"Hallie," he says as if I didn't hear him the first time. "Did anyone see you come down here?"

My name rolls off his tongue with ease, igniting a warmth that rushes through my chest and spreads across my cheeks. I shake my head, still trying to process this morning's events. Not the hours we'd spent helping our moms set up for the local Arts and Crafts exhibition – that had been on the agenda for months – but the part where I found myself trapped in the basement with the guy I've liked since eleventh grade.

He mutters a curse word, his hand sliding down his square jaw. More curses follow as he paces the room, contemplating our situation. In my defense, when I'd snuck into the basement to hide my exhibition entry, I hadn't expected to find Finn Denver camped out on the floor, nor did I have time to react to his Hallie, wait before the faulty door slammed shut, locking us inside.

"I've tried everything," he says in frustration to the wall. "The window is locked, no one can hear us, and I didn't bring my phone 'cause I figured it would only take me a second to grab the extra chairs my mom asked for." He turns around, his green eyes glinting with momentary hope. "Please tell me you have yours."

I shake my head – the only thing I can think to do when formulating words is impossible. Not only have I thrown away everything I've worked for, but I'm about to be stuck in a cramped, confined space with the boy who takes my social anxiety to new heights.

Finn sighs, raking his fingers through his hair. Its dark, tousled state hints that it began the day neat but surrendered to the stress of the situation, much like his crinkled tee and shorts.

"Then I guess we wait it out," he says, positioning himself against the wall. Once seated, he extends his long legs, shifting his gaze to look at me. "I figure once the exhibition starts at nine, it won't take long for someone to realize we're gone." He pauses to study my face, no doubt noting my discomfort. "Are you okay?"

I nod and set the small box of Jibbitz on the floor before sitting beside him. His presence dominates the tiny space, confirming he's every inch the tall, imposing quarterback I'd observed from a distance. I shrink further, attempting to avoid our shoulders touching.

What feels like forever passes. Finn's eyes skim over me, tracing my long, dark hair, pausing on my lips before settling on the box next to me. "You harboring food over there, Evans?"

Despite how it sounds, we're not friends. In fact, besides asking to borrow my pencil once, we've barely said a word in the four years we've attended high school. This is just how Finn is with everyone – it's why people love him. "No, sorry."

He flashes the Finn Denver grin: a bright, dimpled smile that sends most people swooning, including me. "She speaks."

Contrary to popular belief, I'm not voiceless. It's more that, outside of my family or people I'm close to, my brain deems engaging in conversation unnecessary, leading most people to believe I have nothing to say.