Teenage Dirtbag

Ch. 8

As soon as I made it to my room I sprinted to the window and pulled the curtains back just in time to see Marcel walking to his car. He had a wide grin on his face, and he looked proud of himself. His smile didn't falter as he got into the car and drove away. I felt over the moon, the butterflies in my stomach were going into overdrive.

            I'd never had feelings so strongly for someone before, and it all felt new and exciting. I also never thought I'd be attracted to anyone like Marcel, either. Yet here I was, constantly thinking of him, peeking over at him when we were together. All Marcel needed was for someone to give him and chance, and as I walked over to my bed and sat down, I was thankful that it got to be me.

            Never judge a book by its cover, it was a saying my father had taught me when I was young and I always tried to live by that. Most people I tried not to get close enough to judge either way, but once I saw that little smirk on Marcel's face when I sang Teenage Dirtbag the day we met I should've known I didn't stand a chance. Behind the glasses, the slicked back hair and the argyle sweaters, he was beautiful. His green eyes always shined brightly when he smiled. And if you could really get him to smile his dimples would show. He was passionate, and strong underneath those sweaters, you just had to take the time to see it.

            That night I went to sleep happier than I'd felt in a long time. I don't remember if I dreamed, but if I did it must've been a happy one. When I woke up I saw it was just after nine-thirty, and I stumbled to my closet and changed into a clean pair of jeans and pulled a button up shirt on over the tank top I had slept in. Putting my hair up into a bun a descended the stairs and walked into the kitchen.

            "Morning," my mother said as she saw me.

            "Hi..," I said, somewhat startled she was still home, "don't you have to work?"

            "I don't have to be in until ten-thirty," she answered, looking through a magazine.

            "Oh," I answered simply as I made myself a bowl of cereal.

            "Mhmm, do you have any plans today," she asked.

            I shrugged as I sat down across from her, "I don't think so."

            "You aren't going to see Marcel?"

            "I haven't heard from him yet today," I said taking a bite of my cereal.

            "Well did your date go okay?"

            The corners of my mouth tugged up in a smile, "it was good."

            "Good," she replied enthusiastically, "he looks like a nice boy."

            "He is nice," I said fondly, taking another mouthful of cereal.

            "I'd like to meet him sometime," she said casually as she took a sip from her coffee mug.