I slipped into the classroom quietly, trying my best not to draw attention to myself. His expression was still fresh in my head, the corners of his mouth turned up humorously. Why must I embarrass myself everywhere?
"Oh."
I looked up to see a blonde boy, gazing down at me. He was tall, his hair adding at least an inch to his height. He smiled at me, his pierced lower lip intimidating me.
I swallowed, "Sorry?"
He shook his head, "No, this is my seat, but I can just sit here," he sat across from me.
I smiled sympathetically, thanking him for letting me sit here. I almost forgot that this class has been going on for almost 4 months.
"You're new, right? Mrs Fitzgerald told us a few days ago," he asked, turning to face me.
I chuckled, "Yes I am, I'm never going to get used to all the accents."
He smirked, "Technically, you're the one with the accent around here. I'm Luke."
I laughed, "Rose."
"Luke, stop trying to flirt with the new girl."
Luke's eyes raised to look at a brunette boy, his tanned skin covered by a State Champs t-shirt. He was laughing at Luke as he scoffed, shaking his head. He seems to do that a lot.
He placed his books on the desk behind mine, sitting before extending his hand, "I'm Calum, the lame kid's best friend."
I grasped his gesture, "Rose."
He turned his head, "Rose? Like the flower?"
My eyes rolled unintentionally, "Rose, like the flower."
Luke giggled, "I get the vibe that you get asked that a lot."
"You have no idea!"
Math went on like that, Calum making fun of Luke for taking notes, to which he'd respond with a smart ass remark. We handed notes along, mostly with questions about me on them. I had exchanged numbers with the both of them before leaving the class, texting them to inform them that they're losers. I think I made new friends.
---
"Mom! I'm home!"
My last three classes were shit, learning about things that I'll never need in life. I hadn't met any friends except Luke and Calum, who kindly ate lunch with me. I learned that Luke wanted to be a guitarist, meanwhile Calum knew he would end up continuing with his father's mechanics garage. They were such nice guys, helping me around for the rest of the day.
"Honey, I need you to go to the store," she shouted from kitchen.
My eyes rolled as I dropped my bag, "No, 'Hi Rose, How was your day? Meet any friends?' , Thanks!"
I kissed my mother's cheek, sitting at the island as she read the cookbook in her hand. She had already made a mess of the kitchen, flour and batter everywhere.
My eyes widened, "What on earth are you making?"
"I'm trying to make some cookies for the new neighbours but I don't have cinnamon."
I groaned, "Couldn't you do without it?"
She huffed, which usually meant you were about to get a lecture. I stopped her, "Fine. I'm taking my car."
She gave me a $20 bill, sending me on my way.
Trying to find my way around a school was hard enough, but trying to figure out where the fucking grocery store is in a large city made school seem easy. After about 30 minutes of aimlessly driving around, attempting to find a place with stupid cinnamon, I finally found the local grocery store.
I walked through the aisles, picking up a small container of ground cinnamon. Did she want stick cinnamon or ground? Does it matter?
While walking through the different rows of food (originally in search of chocolate bars), I stopped in front of the tampons. I selected a small box, unsure of whether I had some or not. Beside the feminine products, in flashy packaging, was a variety of condoms. Fuck it, maybe I'll get lucky? False hope is still hope till proven false!
I grabbed a box, not specifically reading the outer design.
I placed the items on the counter, pulling the bill from my back pocket. I glanced up at the cashier, my mouth dropping.
The mysterious boy from this morning stood behind the table, a red apron tied around his waist. He had a white dress shirt on, the cuffs rolled to his elbows. A dark bluish tattoo was at the end of his forearm, continuing up his covered arm. How did I not see the black eyebrow piercing? Did I not stare at him weirdly enough?
He smiled, ringing in the cinnamon and the tampons. As he slid the condoms over the scanner, he looked up at me, "Who's the lucky guy?"
I covered my face with my hands, my cheeks already as hot as fire, "No one! No one!"
He grinned, " 'Strawberry flavoured'? I can never eat another strawberry seriously again!"
"I picked the first one there, I swear!"
I laughed with him as he bagged my things.
I handed him the money, "Sorry for eye-fucking- I mean," I shook my head screwing my eyes closed, "staring at you this morning."
Why does this guy make me so nervous?
"Hey," he smiled, "At least you can eye-fuck with protection now!"
He handed me the bag, along with the change and receipt. I was about to ask him his name when he smiled, "Have a nice day, Next!"
"T-Thank you."
There you go. I fucked up my one chance to actually befriend the boy I'm so creepily obsessed with. I blew it. It's done. My life is over.
I got back into my car, banging my head on the steering wheel. Why do these things always happen to me?
I dropped the change into my cup holder, laying the receipt above it. I was about to pull out of my parking spot when I noticed something.
Along the bottom of the receipt, on the line I would have signed if I used debit, was a curvy handwritten note:
Michael - 386-425-4843
hopefully this isn't a creepy way to approach a cute girl, see you around xx
Did he just call me what I think he called me?
