Chris Collins One-Shots Series

Roses are red and so are your cheeks

  I stood there at the entrance of the lunch room, hovering just far enough from the table collecting money for Valentine's Day that nobody there would ask if I were waiting to talk to them.

  I wouldn't describe myself as very popular or un-popular in the school. I had my handful of friends, had good grades, dressed well, and upheld an air of being totally above all this, which was exactly what I was going for.

  But I wasn't exactly sure on why I did that, because I wasn't very happy with the results.

  Without really meaning to me I ended up being cold to people who might have been friends with, most classes I spent any free time I had sitting alone, and reading, and for as long as I can remember I've sat alone at lunch.

  And then there was Chris. Perfect, beautiful, Chris. 

 I watched him every chance  could. In the mornings when I get off the bus and passed him in the hall, chatting up a wide circle of friends. On the bus home when I had headphones in, pretending to listen to him talk. Whenever I had a class with him, I would steal glances at every occasion.

  He seemed so perfect, so smart and nice and wonderful, but I couldn't even bring myself to get close to him. What was the point, after all? He would probably just assume I was just some stuck up jerk from the way I acted, or maybe they would just get bored and brush me off. It was depressing, but I had grown to accept it. 

   Only now there was something, the smallest, faint of hope. Valentine's Day was approaching and like every year the school was giving kids the opinion to send flowers to their Valentine. This year, however, they opened the option to send then anonymously.

   So here I am, standing, waiting, the only sign of how terribly nervous I am being that I won't stop fidgeting with the two quarters in my hand. It should be easy, just do over there, give them the money, tell them I want it to be sent to Chris anonymously, and be done with it. But, I can't bring myself to move. How stupid. How udderly pathetic. If I can't even send him a gift anonymously what good am I? No, no, I'm doing this; I AM going to do this. 

     With my hands totally not shaking, not one bit, i approached the table and held out my quarters saying "I'd like to send flowers to Chris, anonymously-"

    "But if there anonymous, how am I going to know they're from you?"

    Oh god. That's Chris' voice. He's right behind me. I'm catching my breath in my throat and my cheeks feel like they're on fire. I can't turn to look at him and try to open my mouth to give some sort of reply, witty or dismissive or something. But I can't say a word. Forget this; forget everything this was a horrible, stupid idea. He probably thinks I'm just a joke or a coward. Whatever he thinks I don't want to know because surely it was awful.

     Without thinking much myself, I swipe my money up from the table and bolt away. For a minute I thought I heard Chris calling after me, but, no, surely that's my imagination.

     I spend the rest of the lunch period in the bathroom, holding my facing my hands. I won't cry, I wouldn't dare cry, but I'm still left to embarrassed to consider leaving until I know Chris is gone.

     -time skip-

     The next day is Valentine's Day, and I feel miserable.

     Because I am so incredibly skilled at dealing with my feelings and getting over things, today I'm an anxious, fidgety mess and the only effort I make all morning is avoiding my friends, and especially Chris. 

    Everything goes well, until lunch hits.

    Lunch is when the volunteer students go around giving flowers. I know it won't do me any good at all, but I occasionally glance up to see if Chris had gotten any. Nope so far, but someone is making their way up to his table and I imagine quite a few people had sent him flower, people he would be more interested in. I sigh quietly, and turn my head back to the book in my hands, only to be interrupted after a few moments.

     "Hey, you're (Y/N), right?" I look up to find a boy standing next to me, a basket in his hand, with countless of roses in it. Wait- he couldn't be...? No, no, that was preposterous. Still, I nodded a few times. 

      He grabs one of the larger bouquets from the basket, and hands it to me. I stare, wide eyed, and tried to ask "Wait- are you sure these are-..?" But, he's already moved on to the next table.

    This can't be right. this totally can't be right, who on Earth would send me something like this. Actually, I do have an idea, a small, hesitant hope. There's  tag on the bouquet, keeping it together, and I slowly turn it to face me. It reads:

    "To: (Y/N)"

     "From: Chris"

    I'm at a complete loss for words. Chris, Chris, sent me this? As if on que I feel eyes watching me from behind and turn to see Chris across, the room watching me with a wide grin. He waves to me, and despite the fact that I'm still in a shocked daze, I wave back. 

    Alright, so maybe I wasn't as bad as I thought.