David and Sarah: Our Story

The Brilliant Annoying Superficial Comet of David Gold

I hate good looking people. Their lives are too easy. There was a brief awkward moment before I was filled with irritation and straightened myself, which was when I got a real good look at him.

His hair, true to the name, was golden and curly, flopping over a golden-ish skin, like he spent all his time outside and never got a sunburn, which was probably very true. The jawline was sharp enough to cut through metal, and the cheekbones were in a similar state.

And, dang, his eyes. If you could melt down a blueberry popsicle, and spill some sparkles in there, the color would perfectly describe those irises that bore into mine. (The guy was also pretty well-built, I'll admit, but I'm not weird about those things.)

I stared at him for a moment, briefly wondering if I should have been blushing or something like other girls most certainly would have.

I wasn't blushing.

I was frowning.

"Sarah. Watch where you're going, David," I snapped, accepting the books and unsuccessfully attempting to push past him. Now, I know that this probably sounds like it was rude, and that's because I was. But this David Gold guy who had bumped into me gave off that air. The air that all snotty preps who had pretended to be nice but actually turned out to be bullies that I had discovered back in New York. Once I had given them the benefit of the doubt.

But I was always wrong, and today wasn't a good one, and I wasn't feeling very merciful.

Besides, he probably deserved it. Somehow.

And he had knocked me over.

He put a hand on my shoulder, grinning stupidly down at me, a really creepy glint in his eye.

"Sarah. Pretty. You must be new. Are you looking for the office?"

"Maybe."

"Cool." He seemed to just delight even further in my own irritation. Okay, maybe he's not preppy, just really, really annoying. "I can take you there."

I smiled grimly at him. Great. "Sure, that'd be fun." Note my sarcasm, bimbo.

He either didn't notice, or didn't care. Without seeming to take any concern for personal space, he took hold of my arm and started to steer me in the opposite direction that I had been walking. Player. I clenched my jaw. Mysteriously, everyone who had been lining the walls only moments before were now gone, which was the only complaint that I didn't have at the moment.
"So where're you from? " he asked, like he had all the time in the world to talk to the block of ice that was, in fact, me.
"New York. "
"Oh really? Sweet. I went there on a football thing once, man, I love football, and it was so cool."
"Uh-huh. "
"Yeah, did you like it there? "
"Yup. "
"Well sorry that you had to move here. It must have been hard. " l
I looked up at him, considering if I should reconsider about by opinion of the guy. For a prep, he sounded pretty genuine in his most likely fiegned concern.
"It was, I muttered, then sped up my pace so he wouldn't see any emotion on me. I did not like this boy, no matter how little I knew about him, and I wasn't going to spill my guts to the guy.
He was caught up to me in seconds, his expression a little bit confused now.

"Hey, you okay?" He asked, having the guts to actually be concerned.

"Fine."

"You sure? You seemed kinda upset there for a second."

I turned on him, my patience for him snapping.

"Yes. Now please shut up." He jerked his head back, completely surprised. And, before anyone feels like hating me, I instantly felt guilty, even if he was horrible. "Sorry, bad day," I grumbled grudgingly. The too big smile returned.