after my best friend's death

after my best friend's death- chp2

I twisted restlessly in the bed in the nurse’s room. I couldn’t get Aaron’s face out of my head. His eyes, the ocean like blue green, were mesmerizing. In fact he was mesmerizing. His height, structure, posture and the cherry on the cake good looks were hard to erase. My head and heart were jumbled with mixed emotions. Here I had lost my best friend since we wore diapers and on the other hand I was lusting over some new kid’s ripped abs. I sighed to myself, perplexed.

The nurse heard my shifts and sighs and came from behind her desk to check on me. She said I didn’t have a temperature but gave me some aspirin to diminish any pain. After five more minutes of restlessness, I asked the nurse if I could go get changed. She made me a pass and asked if I wanted to call my mother as well.

 A million thoughts ran through my head. I would love to go home and stay away from all the drama that lunch break would bring, but then again it would be rude to leave without saying good bye or thanking the people who helped me today- especially Renée and Aaron. Also, I couldn’t miss the chance of talking to Aaron for a bit.

 What was I talking about? I can’t care about a boy so soon; I scolded myself. I have to stay back so that I don’t miss anymore schoolwork. That’s it. Just thank Aaron and get on with your life. After all the hooting and public humiliation in the football ground, I doubt he would even want to be seen with me again.

I told the nurse that I would be staying in school. She smiled in a pitiful and supportive way, suddenly rushing back raw emotions.  This time I shook myself out of it. I took the pass and quietly went back to the locker rooms. The halls were haunted, with only a janitor sweeping the floors in the last west wing. He gave me a puzzled look at first but then resumed his duties, muttering something about today’s generation.

I quickly entered, the quietness of the halls reminding me of numerous horror movies. The lone janitor always turned out to be the serial killer or the man who knew everyone’s business. I wondered if he knew me or Cynthia. I stepped out of my clean gym clothes folding them back into the locker and took a towel into the shower room. I let the warm water hit me, soothing every knot in my back, allowing the water to wash away my pain. It actually worked. I felt fresher and happier as I tightly wrapped the towel around me. A part of me wanted to walk through the empty locker room naked, hoping to fell an adrenaline rush, to fell sexy. I shook my head at myself, dismissing the futile thought. I was going crazy and I knew it.

 I walked out back to my locker, one hand in the middle of my chest holding my towel and the other fumbling to open my locker. Just as I managed to open my locker the main door swung open. I jumped back startled and looked down, my cheeks heating up. Yes I was that shy. In the back of my head I knew it would just be another girl who wanted something from the locker room, but as I slowly moved my head up I saw the tall muscled boy who had saved me earlier. His face looked shocked, with a tiny smirk forming on his lips as he looked me up and down. As his eyes trailed from my wet legs up, I felt every part of my body under his gaze heating up. My heart started beating so loudly I was sure he heard it in the quiet. His eyes finally reached my face, his gaze flicking between my eyes and lips. I bit on my lips nervously unable to look away from him. From his eyes. I smiled as his eyes continued to flick down at my lips. I wondered if my lips were actually so lustrous.

No guy had really paid attention to me. In fact the only time the hottest guys would talk to me was to get out information about Cynthia. After all who knew a girl better than a best friend? Also, Cynthia always took my advice on people to date. Not that I had any experience what so ever, she said I had a great knack for character judgement. Maybe it came from my aloofness, she would add in her mind. I knew it and didn’t really care. I didn’t care for a boyfriend or a relationship and not because no one had asked me into one. Cyn always tried to set me up with ‘my’ type of guys. But I didn’t have a type. How could a girl who’s only been on two blind dates have a type?