That Stupid Little L-Word:

Chapter Five:

"You're in front of my locker," He is saying, as I stare at him with a look of pure stupidity. It takes several long, awkward moments for the words to process inside my head. When they do, I step aside and look at his locker with hardly masked bewilderment.

And, as usually, I utter the first words that cross my mind. "Oh, you have one?"

He twists the dial, unlocking the metallic cubby, and shoots me an amused look. "Yeah," He opens the door and motions for me to move back a bit --so the door doesn't assault my face. I step back and he flattens the door against the locker next to his, "We all do. Do you know where yours is?"

"Of course not," I sigh, forgetting to be witty. I didn't know where anything was in this school; despite the extensive lecture I received from Miley this morning, I am completely hopeless when it comes to finding things. 

The sad thing is, I'm pretty sure she mentioned something about it.

"I can help you find it --if that's alright with you. I don't have a class this period, so I won't be late."

I blink at him, lips parting in shock. He was offering to show me around? Even if it was just my locker, I could probably milk it and ask him to show me my next class as well. Cool, my inner self smiles victoriously. Bonus time!

"That'd be nice," I finally remember to smile. I hand him my schedule, which has my locker number printed at the top.

He shuts his locker with a click and clamps the lock back into place. I watch him, mesmerized by how fluid and graceful his movements were. Unfortunately, the jacket he sports blocks any sight of the muscles of his arms. I avert my gaze quickly when he looks up, praying to anything and everything that may be above my head that the heat I feel in my cheeks isn't visible to him. 

"Let's go~" He sings, and I can't help the grin that works its way onto my face. 

"So we sing now, eh?" I snicker at him.

He wags his eyebrows, "Of course. I plan to try out for American Idol soon."

"Seriously?" I feel my eyebrows raise in shock. 

He snorts, "No. I have the voice of a llama." 

"Llama-voice buddies unite?" I laugh and hold up my fist for a fist bump. I suck at singing --the only victim of my voice-abuse being my shower-- though I'd visualized a different animal comparison. 

I've never really heard a llama before. What did they even sound like?

Blue Eyes blinks at me, and stares at me with wide eyes for a few moments. I freeze in fear that I've totally ruined the beginning of our relationship with my idiocy; it was probably that maybe, just maybe, the idea of being Llama-voice buddies was too childish for his coolness. Suddenly I found myself rethinking all of my life choices so far. 

Then his lips pull back into a beautifully crooked smile, and I melt.

"We'll need a secret password." His knuckles lightly brush against mine. Little tingles errupt beneath the contact-area and I grin like a kid who'd just been locked in a candy store overnight. 

He holds the door open for me, and we step out into the mass of students who litter the courtyard. It's then that I realize just how absorbed I am in this delicious hunk of male beside me; I didn't notice that the hallway had cleared out and the late bell was coming soon. It was so pathetic. I'm so pathetic. 

"Cereal?" I suggest. 

One of his slender brows arch and I smile sheepishly. "It's my favorite word, and food. Don't judge me."