The Wallflower Effect

Chapter 4: Spilled Coffee.

Oh, slutty shart biscuit! I thought to myself, as I looked at him in utter mortification for the both of us. This is bad. This is really bad.

With how peacefully this morning with Gage started out, I should've guessed something would ruin my relatively nice day. It seemed things rarely ever went my way, so I should've taken the calm as a warning of an approaching thunderstorm. If I knew how quickly my beloved peace and anonymity would be shattered, I would've faked a cold, lied about today being a holiday, played the 'cramps' card, hey, I may have gone all out and slammed my head against a wall to avoid the disaster of epic proportions fate had so thoughtfully planned for me this wonderful morning. Anything to escape the disaster that ensued when I walked into Asheville High.

"I- I- I... um, wow, I am so, so sorry." I apologized to him, my cheeks turning firetruck red at the interested gazes of my fellow students, and the drop-dead gorgeous male before me.

"You're fine." Laughed Eathan Hark er, hunky golden-haired golden-eyed God, football quarterback, and the reigning King of Asheville High. It seemed all the gazes of interested students didn't  faze him, and neither did the hot coffee from Janey-Lou's, the only fashionable coffee place in town. The very coffee I'd  ran into him while he was holding it, and therefore soiled his angel white Abercrombie t-shirt with.

"I, oh wow, umm can I get you a new shirt... or something?" I stammered, red in the face from embarrassment, all of our fellow classmate's watching us, waiting for a fight like hungry hyenas waited for prey. I was waiting for the famous Eathan Harker to explode on me, right along with them.  If possible, my cheeks heated even more, and my breathing became labored, and I began to panic. My shyness kicked in full-force, and I started to tremble slightly. Normally I could force off the ridiculous social anxiety and force myself to not be an idiot, but obviously, this was not a normal day.

"Hey, are you okay?" Eathan's deep, yet smooth voice pierced my rising irrational fear. I ducked my head. I hated attention, or being noticed in any way even though I usually handled it okay, and this situation was not helping my phobia of being noticed. But the concerned, gentle hand Eathan tentatively set on my shoulder was helping me. The worried gaze his rare honey-golden eyes sent me didn't hurt either. Something about Eathan's very presence was kind and assuring, dare I say comforting?

"I just, I uh, really, uh... you know, I just hate being... umm, looked at." I whispered to him softly enough that only the two of us could hear my words above the gossiping whisper of the students around us. I knelt down and reaching into my boot, where I always kept and emergency forty dollars. I handed twenty of it to Eathan. He looked at it strangely, then back at me. His full, pink lips were pressed into a confused line, his golden blonde brows were drawn together, and his eyes were squinted in concentration at the twenty I'd just handed him. At least, that's all I could tell from under my blonde hair.

"What is this for?" He questioned me, clearly perplexed as to why I'd given it to him.

"Your shirt." I replied quietly, not stuttering for the first time since I'd bumped into him, staring him straight in the eyes confidently, and I saw his widen slightly and if it wasn't my imagination, he took a small step back.

"Thanks, beautiful." He whispered back to me, in the same hushed tone I'd used earlier. He sent a easy-going gaze, and what seemed to me like a secretive smile. I didn't know how he could make me feel like we were the only ones in the school- no, in the world, at that moment, when we were surrounded by viscous small-town gossip vipers. He made me feel calm and secure, like the crowd didn't even matter. He looked at me like he cared, somehow. No none had ever made me feel like that, ever.

But like all good things that happened to me, it came to and end. I realized where I was and who exactly I was talking to, and my crippling lack of proper social skills and embarrassment flooded back to me.