Dreaming of Nightmares

Hello There

As his eyes landed on me, I looked down, embarrassed of my outfit. I had on a really old pair of jeans and a pair of even older Chucks that date back to the Ice Age. Also I have on this really weird blue tank top with I <3 Las Vegas printed on it. Plus let’s not forget the hair-rats-nest-bun situation as well as the fact that I didn’t have time to put in my contacts this morning. Overall, I looked like one of those obvious tourists that Noah and I always make fun of when we took a stroll around the Strip.

            When I dare to look back up, his eyes are still locked on me and a small smile seems to be tugging at the corners of his mouth.

            “Sit anywhere you like Luke,” Ms. Reynalds said “now let’s begin.” As she passed around the papers with our first assignment, Luke slowly began to walk towards the only empty spot in the classroom; next to me.

            “May I sit here?” he asks his voice barely audible, soft and polite with a heavy accent coating it. I nod and move over a little to emphasize it. He sits down, way to elegantly; so British. I always wondered if British people were actually the way television portrayed them; I guess I have my answer now. And that answer comes in the most luscious package ever. By now the assignment papers have made their way around the class room and reached me. I took one and passed the last one to Luke.

Scene work was printed on the top in a fancy font. Crap. I hate working in groups; I would much rather prefer to do monologues for the whole year. Every time I’m part of a group project , and I’m not talking only about drama,I always end up doing all the work since I’m very detail oriented, some may even say OCD, with all my assignments. A B+ is too low of a grade for me and I won’t tolerate them. Also, Ms. Reynalds usually lets us pick our groups and I don’t know anyone in here. Double crap.

            “What’s your name?” Luke’s soft voice interrupts me from my self-pity party. I realize that I’m not the only lone wolf in this class room; he doesn’t know anyone either. Slowly an idea forms in my head and I turn my head to look at him probably staring at him like he was the helpless bunny and I was the fox. His blue eyes look at me curiously, maybe wondering if I’ll ever answer his question or if he should run now while he can. “I’m Julie.”

            I extend my hand to shake his, pondering when was the last time I had a manicure. But instead of shaking it, he surprises me by lightly letting my hand rest on his, bringing it to his lips. “I’m Luke.”

            “I know.” I answer trying hard not to concentrate his warm hand still holding mine and the still lingering feeling of his warm lips on it. A violent red blush spread from chest to my cheeks, turning my whole face bright red or so I assume; I could feel the sizzling heat all over my body.

            “How d – oh yeah. Sorry.” He looks down, embarrassed, and lets my hand go; I immediately miss its warmth. Finally looks at the assignment sheet and I could read a bit of panic on his face. As he does that I allow myself a few moments to be a creep and carefully study his profile. I was taking a huge interest in his eyelashes which slightly grazed his cheeks and eyelids. I would do anything to have eyelashes like that; well, not anything but you know what I mean.

            I finally stop creeping and finish reading the assignment. It needs to be done in a group of two or more, the scene must be over ten minutes long and every participant must have at least 35 lines. The scene can either be from an actual play or made up. As I kept reading my eyes kept going back to the two or more requirement. I don’t know anyone else in this class anyway so why the hell not.

            “So …umm… I was thinking that we could do the assignment together since you know, you’re new and all that” I say, stumbling slightly on my words. I’m not a very social person but usually I’m able to form sentences without sounding majorly illiterate; of course the one time I’m actually talking to a cute guy my brain shuts down.

            He looks up again his eyes studying me. Does he think I’m messing with him? If I were to be Natasha or one of the other brainless wannabes I would understand his worry and even though I don’t consider myself the nicest person ever I won’t bite someone’s head of for wearing the same shirt as me. I mentally slap myself remembering that this was his first day. Of course he doesn’t know who the “plastics” – to borrow some vocabulary from Mean Girls- of the school are; I don’t even know if they even have such a thing in England.

Soon enough I started to feel naked under his gaze. It’s not that he was looking at me in a sexual kind of way as if he was mentally undressing or anything like that; it was more that he was looking deep into my soul and judging everything I ever did like a jury ready to give its verdict. Was I a nice person that helped old ladies cross the street or was I the one who knocked over her grocery bags and didn’t help her pick them up?

Finally he reached his judgment. He flashes me a beautiful smile that made his eyes brighten into an even more glacier blue and crinkle at the corners in the cutest way possible.

“That would be brilliant, Julie.” The way he said my name made my stomach tumble a little bit, the way it hasn’t done since like sixth grade when I had this gianormous crush on this douche named Andy. He stole my chocolate chip cookies and broke my heart all in the same day. But this time the tumble was stronger as if the pizza I had for lunch was doing gymnastics in my stomach and it was trying to perfect a rebound cartwheel. I swallowed bile and did my best to pretend that his stare didn’t affect me. I do not have a crush on a guy I just met. He’s just too attractive for his own good.

He was still staring at me. The violent blush was still there while the silence was stretching to the point of becoming awkward.

“So…” I said lamely “any idea what scene we should do?”

            “Actually I was hoping that you would have an idea. Theater is not really my scene.” He scratches the back of his head as if to accentuate his cluelessness and I catch a little bit of swirling black lines on the back of his neck; a tattoo probably.

            “Then why did you take this class?”

            “It wasn’t exactly my idea. It was the only class available.” He shrugs, the muscles under his shirt tensing up just enough to make me have to look away before starting to pant like a dog in heat. I swear I’m usually not this hormonal; I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.

            “Oh… I guess we can umm…like…figure it out tomorrow, I guess.” Awkwardness stretches out with both of us trying to think about a topic of conversation yet not coming up with anything. Is asking about the weather too cliché? Honestly, I just really want to ask about his tattoo but I don’t want to come off as too straightforward.

            Saved by the bell is literally the best way to explain what happens next because the bell finally rings and I’m able to get out of that class before royally embarrassing myself even more. I felt kind of bad for nor saying goodbye to Luke but I still ran out of there and went to my next class.

            The rest of the day continues uneventfully. More syllabuses, more homework and the discovery of more teachers that I would love to never have to see again. Through all that there haven’t been any more awkward run-ins with Luke. Just like Emily predicted he was in some of my AP classes but I've managed to avoid sitting next to him. I honestly don’t know what happened to me back there; I have never been so physically aware of a guy in my life. Considering the amount of boyfriends I’ve had so far – which is to say about four, substantially lower than the amount of hookups I’ve had which is yet still noticeably lower than the rest of the school population’s which is made up of , by my guesstimation, sixty percent sluts- so I wouldn’t say that I’m not aware of guys. I am very aware of guys but at the same time I have never been so affected by the presence of one as much as I have been affected by Luke sitting three feet away from me.

            The whole day I tried to concentrate on class, really concentrate, but I always drifted off into thinking about Luke. Thinking about his eyes or his mysterious tattoo or the feeling of his lips on my hand ,which still somehow lingered on my skin until I got home, making me wish to never have to wash my hand again.