Bull-fucking-shit," Eddie leans in further towards you from the opposite side of the table, pressing his rings against the wooden surface, "Everyone has a crush on at least someone."
He'd asked you whether you liked anyone or not many times before, and each time you instantly denied his query. But he was right, it was bullshit. And he could tell. Usually he didn't push, just changed the subject to something innocent, but today he was impatient, but he'd wondered what you type was for too long, and today, he planned to find out.
Although the chances were that you were into the mainstream, stereotypical, hot guys, Eddie had a tiny ray of hope that maybe he was your type.
Kay, uh..." He thinks for a moment from across the table, then smiles, "How 'bout a celebrity? Or fictional character?"
You sigh huffily, ignoring him and turning your gaze to the pile of homework you were supposed to be helping him with. He gets up and sits abruptly down next to you.
Eddie grabs your chin and turns your head to his face, and your eyes peel hesitantly away from the incomplete work to his. He's got his puppy-eyes in action. His melted caramel puppy-eyes.
Fine," You give in, and he straightens up, excited, "I'll compromise; I tell you a celebrity crush of mine, and you have to study," You press a finger firmly into the pages laid on the table, "otherwise you can say bye-bye to graduation."
His nods his head eagerly, awaiting your confession. You take a deep breath in, preparing yourself for the inevitable teasing that will come out of this.
Kirk
"I require a last name
"Ham-"
He leaps out of his seat and jogs around the bench in a frenzy. "HAMMET? KIRK HAMMET?"
You nod, suppressing a laugh, because he looks as if he just shit himself. Maybe he did.
"HOLY SHIT!" He runs his hands through his hair in bewilderment, "THIS... THIS IS A GROUNDBREAKING DISCOVERY! I- I MEAN... CHECK MY PULSE!"
He grabbed you wrist, placing your palm on this chest. His heart rate was soaring, thumping underneath your hand.
"Christ, Eds! Calm down!" You pull your palm away from his faded Whitesnake shirt, secretly not wanting to, and he plops himself back down next to you. You begin to flick through the pages of the unfinished homework.
"So why Kirk?"
"Huh?" You glance at him, then back down.
"Why Kirk of all people? Most girls are into... What? Like, Tom Cruise? Brad Pitt, Ralph Macchio, Rob Lowe-"
"Hey, stop right there." You hold up your hand, "Rob is a heartthrob, for sure, but doesn't matter because Kirk is top-fucking-tier and beats, like, ninety percent of the competition."
Your answer felt so close to home. Eddie was beaming. Kirk was a certified metalhead, so was Eddie. They had the same style, liked the same music. And they both had rocking personalities. You we're practically confessing your love to him, and all of a sudden, Eddie felt like he actually had a shot with you. Maybe he bet ninety percent of the competition. It could be why you stuck around, because nobody else did.
