vagary

"And you are?"

phosphenes

(n.) the stars and colors you see when you rub your eyes.

It's unusually cold for September. The nip in the air is a little harsh, to be frank, but Shiloh doesn't mind it one bit as she sits at her usual secluded spot on the school ground during the lunch break.

Not many students are present, given the weather, and Shiloh loves the quiet.

"Hi, do you mind if I sit here?" someone asks.

Shiloh jerks up from her half eaten Bombay frankie to find very brown eyes staring at her expectantly.

It's the new boy, not new anymore.

Eli.

"No?" Shiloh finds herself saying, more like a question.

She very much wanted to say yes, it's a reason she sits here during the break: she likes eating her lunch alone, but God knows what something compelled her to say no, as if her mouth has a mind of its own.

She shrugs.

You are just being polite, she tries to convince herself.

Eli smiles his smile. The one which leaves dimples on his cheeks.

It takes all of Shiloh's resolve not to smile back.

He plops down at a little distance from her.

"Want some?" he asks, holding up his tiffin in which she can see two sandwiches wrapped neatly in cling film.

"It's PBJ." he says.

Shiloh loves PBJ sandwiches.

"No thanks." she croaks, shaking her head, hoping it did not come out as rude.

He shrugs.

"I'm Eli, by the way." he says.

A faint "I know" is all  Shiloh can muster.

Pathetic, really.

But then, she doesn't stand well up to strangers, one could say.

"And, you are?" he asks, a little hesitantly.

"I'm Shiloh" she says, and manages a feeble attempt at a smile directed towards him this time.

He immediately smiles back. His dimples are drilling a hole in Shiloh's forehead, for sure.

"That's a really beautiful name." he says.

"Thanks" she says, with a nervous laugh.

"Nice weather today, don't you think?" he asks.

"Yeah" she says.

Monosyllables, one of her fortes.

"You like the cold?" he asks.

"Yeah, you could say that. Definitely better than the sluggish summers. Ugh, they are vicious." she scrunches up her nose in disgust.

Progress.

He laughs.

And at that very moment Shiloh swears she feels like her heart pumped blood the wrong way.

The bell rings.

She gets up and brushes off her skirt.

"Better get going." she mutters, passing a polite smile in his direction before walking away.

Once back in the class, she closes her eyes, rubbing them with her fingers which have pale stubby nails at the end, hoping she can erase the feeling that her stomach is going to drop and fall at her feet if she so much as breathes.

But alas.

Brown, fingers smeared with ink and two indents are dancing like fireworks in front of her vision.