White Lies and Music Notes

Chapter Eleven

We started walking, neither one of us saying a word. At the corner I couldn't help myself any longer. I looked up at the boy, just in time to see him looking away. He was about a head taller than me and he had a messy light-brown hair-cut, that was in need of a trim, but somehow, he still looked hot. I took in his profile, letting my eyes follow the shape of his small nose and then his perfect, plump, red lips.

I looked at the top he had pulled on just a second ago, and took in his amazing body. The T-Shirt was plane black and was really tight, showing off his arm muscles and six-pack. His broad shoulders suggested he was perhaps a swimmer, or and athlete. On his feet he wore a blue pair of flip-flops, that quietly squeaked each time he lifted his feet off the ground. Despite not knowing a thing about him, I felt safe in his presence, as if he was scaring all the ghosts away (not that I believe in ghosts, or anything).

The guy was a total gentleman, he always held doors open for me and said 'after you' a lot. He made me feel welcome although we weren't even speaking. After a while of walking, we reached my floor and I started walking slower, trying to make him stay.

"You know, I really don't think I can sleep again, now. I'm way to wide awake to just curl up in bed and sleep..."

He looked at me, his eyes searching mine for any emotions. I tried to keep my face blank, although I was never any good at hiding my feelings. He nodded and leaned against the wall. He looked at me and I felt like he was judging me.

I know you aren't meant to judge people by there looks, but people still do it. I mean, if you're a blonde cheerleader, people think you're a bitch. If you're hot, people think you're a player. If you wear loads of make-up and wear revealing clothes, people think you're a slut. It's mostly just stereotyping, but more often than not, it's true.

So, anyway, the guy was just standing there, looking at me. I tried looking back, showing him I was unaffected by his eyes. No such luck. I had to look away. Aahh! Why, why, why? Seriously, I thought school was meant to teach you something? Then why hasn't it taught me how to react when you meet a guy you instantly like? Why doesn't school teach you how to flirt?

After looking away from the guy, I realised I must have turned red. He chuckled, a soft, low sound. It got my attention again and this time I looked him in the eye, trying to push away my feelings.

"Oh!" He whispered into the silence. "I know who you are! Aren't you that new girl," my heart sank, "that got coffee spilled all over her after French, today?" And there goes my heart, out the bottom of my shoes. I could feel my face heating up. Why did he have to see that? And WHY could I not control my stupid blush?

"Yeah. I never liked Professor Ironside." I sighed.

"Oh? It was Professor Ironside who poured it over you?"

"Yeah." I groaned. "And then he just walked away, leaving me in a puddle of coffee."

He laughed. "So are you Leah?" He said softly, as if it were a highly personal question.

"Yes." I said, my voice wavering slightly. "And you are...?

"Thomas. Thomas the tank engine."

I looked at him, my eyes so wide I was afraid they would pop out. He couldn't be serious!? I searched his face for any amusement, but there was none. Suddenly, he grinned, and I let out a quiet sigh.

"You actually believed me?" His eyes crinkled at the sides as he smiled.

I nodded, "You're a hell of a good actor!"

"Oh really? Hm... I never considered acting as a career..."

"No? So what DID you consider as a career?"