I stood there staring at Ike. He ran around the field with his friends. Conformist.
I watch as they kick a ball around and laugh.
I pick up my sketchbook. I start to sketch Ike. I do this too often. I need to just get over this stupid little girly crush. I start to draw more furiously.
I don't look up at him and work on his obsidian black hair. Making it look like he's been playing stupid conformist sports all day. Like he does.
I start to work on his blue eyes that shine like the color of the sky. His eyes dance with happiness and light and I hate it so much.
I continue to draw, adding his little freckles and his breath-taking smile of his and other small details that made his face perfect.
"Wow, you're really good at drawing," I hear a voice say next to me. My head instantly shoots over and I fumble with my sketchbook trying to close it.
I see the one person I didn't want to see sitting there. Ike fucking Broflovski.
He watches me look over and smiles at me. His eyes shine bright and his smile lights up the area on the bleachers that was just a dark corner.
I feel my face flush red, all the to my ears as I try again to close my sketchbook, only to drop it.
He laughs, "Did I startle you that much?"
I turn and look at him, "I... Uh..." My voice comes out shaky making me even more embarrassed.
He starts to chuckle and puts a hand on my shoulder. I jump at the sudden touch and look from his hand to his face back to his hand.
He looks back up at me, "You're awfully red. Are you okay?" He asks placing his hand on my cheek.
I jump again and try to move away when he cups both sides of my face.
"You're so cute, Firkle," he says laughing a little.
I open my mouth, but no words come out. He smirks at me and slides slightly closer to me.
Once again I try to pull away, he pulls me even closer. By now, our noses are touching and he's staring in my eyes.
He smiles again, "I like you, Firkle," he says closing the small amount of space between our lips.
I shiver and he continued to kiss me. Eventually, I sink into it and start to kiss back. I wrap my arms around his neck and one of his hands goes to my waist.
He licks my bottom lip, but then pulls away. I blink. He holds his hand over his mouth, "Your lipstick does not taste good."
I laugh and he smiles, "Sorry."
"It's okay," he says removing his hand from his lips, where you could see my lipstick, "I don't want to wear it though."
I smile and he wipes it off. He picks up my sketchbook and hands it to me, "I'm flattered you chose to draw me though."
"Yeah? Well, I don't care what your conformist thoughts are," I say and he smiles and kisses me again.
My face is still burning red, and he laughs.
