Nerds & Boyfriends (unfinished)

Perfection & Sticky Notes

“I guess you’re following me around, huh?” he whispered into a laugh.

I didn’t respond. I doubted he was talking to me.

What the hell?  He's in my seventh too? Does this mean something? Maybe the Gods planned this and set us up? Wow I'm an idiot! What if he read my diary entries? What if he revealed them to the entire class or destroyed my sketches and artwork? What if he thinks I'm retarded. He's staring. He probably finds me deranged looking an grotesque. My eyeliner probably smeared in gym class. Can I just die?

My palms became moist with sweat. I swear, in that moment, I would burst into a fit of tears. Absolutely loose it.  Adrenaline rushed through my veins. I thought about every possible scenario that could possibly happen, replaying it again and again over the time we paused in silence.

He nudged my shoulder a bit.

“You’re that daring girl from math, you really showed Mr. Fitz,” He laughed a bit and pulled out a notebook.

He was playing around with me. Why not play around with him a bit?

"Heh, what's this" I grabbed the sketchbook from his slim hands and slowly started flipping through the pages. I was amazed at what was before me. He was by far the most incredible artist I had ever met. His art was better than anything I had ever done.

“Daring, once again,” He laughed. I nodded placing a strand of my long, dark, burgundy red hair behind my ear.

“You’re a really good artist” I whispered.

“I guess. I really don’t think about it,”

What doesn’t he think about? Hell, I probably think about him more than I think about myself. I didn’t want to bombard him with questions so I nodded as if I had understood and flipped on.

“You like to draw?” Something about his tone of voice sounded unfamiliar. It didn’t sound much like a question, or a smart remark. I just couldn’t place my finger on it, but something about his tone sounded so, indescribable

“Yeah, I do,”

“I know,”

I was kind of shaken at his response. He knew? So why did he ask?

“What’s your name?” I placed the notebook down on the table and turned to him. I tried extra hard to sound relaxed and cool and collected. Remain calm, you idiot. I turned and glanced up at him. Man, was he tall. And raised an eyebrow.

“What’s yours?” He gave a half smile, turned towards me, put his forearms to his knees and kind of slouched forward, his eyes directly in front of mine."Hm, I guess this will be my new desk," He winced over towards me.

I stayed quiet for a moment. I turned and faced my desk releasing my pony-tail allowing my hair to slip free and fall down gracefully to cover my face. I was burning red.

“Well then, I guess we’ll never know,” he gave a side smile, turned, and, too, faced his desk as I continued to flip through his sketches.

I was amazed by each and every one. They were so creative and all so different.

Class was over before I knew it, and I was only halfway through the notebook.

“Having fun there?” He nudged my shoulder and started packing books into his backpack. I noticed a black sketchbook atop his desk. It was mine.

“That’s my sketchbook,” I pointed out, stretching my arm out to grab it.

He quickly snatched the book and held out his hand.

“Come on; let’s go for a walk,”

I took his hand as he helped me to my feet. He grabbed my backpack and swung it around his shoulder.  The front pocket was slightly open and a pen slipped out.  I quickly reached out and caught it in midair.

"Wow, daring and quick,"  He brushed the red locks away from my face.  "And a red head at that." He smiled and lead the way.

Thank god he didn't turn back.  I was redder and redder by the second.

I didn’t have a clue where he was taking me, but I followed.

I know it was stupid of me, I didn’t know him or his intentions, but I just couldn’t stop myself. Something about him drew me closer. I wanted to know more about him. I wanted him.

Finally we drew close to our destination.

“A park,” I whispered quietly.

“Yeah, we’re not at school, you don’t have to whisper,” He lifted my chin, “Speak as much as you’d like,”

His hands were soft yet strong. He wasn’t very big, slim actually. His arms were thin as well.

“Why are we here?”

“Because you want your sketchbook back,” He gave a half smile.

“Then give it back,” I said reaching for his arm.

“No,”

He sat down on a bench and opened up the book.

“You’re going to read it?” I said a little pissed off. Why couldn’t he just give me my book?

“No use, I already did,” A little pissed off? I was really upset now. I could feel my cheeks burning red, my eyes brimming with tears. He read my sketchbook, my diary entries, and my life?

“You’re always trying to be perfect; you just can’t seem to think straight. All you ever do is plan about what to do next. You’re never focused on what’s going on right now,”

How could he tell? I never spoke about my life to anyone but Jean. I didn’t even know his name yet he knew me so well.

“You read my diary entries?”

“No,”

I was in shock. If he didn’t read my entries then how-

He cut off my thoughts.

“I can tell by the way you draw. You didn’t understand me when I said ‘I don’t really think about it’ did you?”

“What?”

“Every single one of your drawings is so planned out. You’re not being spontaneous or random; you’re following rules, perfecting each piece, never moving on. You plan out every piece even before you draw it. You plan your life even before you live it,”

I threw myself onto the park benches, embarrassed and upset. He knew my life more perfectly than I did myself.

“You could tell all that, from my drawings?”

He nodded slightly and placed my sketchbook in my hand.

“I really liked spending time with you. We should again sometime,” He turned and walked off.

“I never got your name,”

I opened the sketchbook to the first page to find a note taped on.

“You’re always think you’re doing something wrong, the way I see it… it’s perfect. –Carson,”

When my eyes rose from the note, Carson was gone.