Curious Georgia |✔

•12 - Curiously Staring•

A/N:

Picture of Georgia.

  I see him from across the courtyard during lunchtime. One... Two... Three...

  It's a wonder I can actually count his freckles from here since they aren't noticeable until you get close enough.

  Seventeen... Eighteen... Nineteen...

  His head raises from the tray of food he's eating, and he begins searching. His head twists from side to side, and I wonder if he felt me staring at him.

  Twenty-four... Twenty-five... Twenty-six...

  It isn't until he stops and smiles at someone else that I realize it's not me he's looking for. He gives him a nod "hello" and starts a conversation. I'm not sure what it's about, but I'm too lazy to get up and find out.

  Thirty... Thirty-one... Thirty-two...

  The guy who I don't know skims the area around him, and before he can look at me I memorize the freckle I left off on and stare down at the book in my hands.

  I look up again, and he's consumed in another conversation with Adam. This talk is brief. Soon enough he's giving him a wave goodbye and speeding away. I check my phone. We still have thirty minutes left.

  Fourty-eight...

  He's just sitting there, not doing a thing but nibbling at his chicken nuggets. And then he catches me looking at him. I don't even know he's looking back at me until I lose count of his freckles.

  Oh, no. Oh, God no.

  A smirk. And then a laugh. I pretend to be annoyed, and the blush on my face helps with my façade. It only makes him laugh harder, and I like it. I like it a lot. Unfortunately, he can't know that. He can't know that I love everything about him, even if I never know what to expect from him. Even if we've had more arguments than comforting moments in my tree. Even if we were supposed to despise each other because of how we skipped detention two months ago.

  It's been two months? Just two measly months, and I like a guy more than my own mother.

  I didn't expect that either. She's done more for me than he ever has, so why do I like him this much? What is it that's so special about Adam that I love so much that isn't his smile or freckles or his quiet voice that has the potential to blow the roof off of a building? All of it is so far-fetched and everything a girl would fantasize about, but I can't bring myself to stop daydreaming about Adam and me in my tree all alone.

  I love the thought of it, and I would give anything to be there with Adam right now.

  I roll my eyes at his laugh, yet I gather all of my things just to sit down next to him.

  "And how are you doing today?" he asks, struggling to keep his composure without blowing chicken nugget bits all over me.

  "I'm doing dandy," I mutter sarcastically and bite into my poor excuse of a hamburger.

  "Aren't you going to ask me how my day is going?" I ignore his question. "Or do you even have to ask, considering the fact that you've been staring at me? How long had you been watching?"

  I turn an impossible shade of red. "I wasn't staring at you, okay?" My voice got quieter, barely just above a whisper. "I was counting your freckles."

  And that was it, the end of line. All of the contents in his mouth flies across the table, and he even chokes on a piece of it before letting out a burst of laughter.