Cupid's Sabotage (COMPLETED)

Chapter 12

It was incredible!

Marcus was acting like the cool guy of the school. While on his way to class, he was giving high fives and fist bumps to people left and right. He walked—more like sauntered—in a way that mimicked a frontward moonwalk, snapping his fingers to a beat that seemingly only he could hear.

"You think he's on drugs?" Reggie says with concern. He fidgets with the combination lock on his locker door. "I heard the metal heads in drama club got their hands on . . ." A pause. "The good stuff." He uses air quotes as he says those words. "Maybe they sold some of their stash to Marcus."

I shake my head from side to side. "No way! Marcus takes far too much pride in his health; he only drinks the most pure drinking water, flosses twice a day. He even wore ankle weights the entire summer of our freshmen year because he was worried that he had the initial signs of cankles, remember?"

"Yeah, you're probably right. So what's gotten in to him?"

"I dunno. We'll ask him over lunch when we tell him Cupid's Sabotage is making an encore." We split off from our lockers and head to our separate classes.

On my way to astronomy class, I pass by Gwen in the hallway. She looks up. Our eyes meet. The rest of the world suddenly fades to black and a golden spotlight shines down over her. And for a moment, it's as if she and I are the only people in the room.

And then I walk straight into a trash can.

The lid flies off and garbage spills across the floor. Laughter and snickering trickles throughout the hallway as dozens of other students gawk at my clumsiness. I feel my cheeks burn in embarrassment. I snap my head back towards Gwen to see if she noticed. Yep. She noticed. A half smirk rests on her lightly freckled face. At least she thought it was amusing. Or is she smirking because she thinks I'm a total klutz? Ugh! There I go overthinking things again. Why do I become so paralyzed around her? She's like an EMP and I'm a helicopter; as soon as she fires her pulse of debilitating electricity, I lose all control.

Gwen moves over to me, her ponytail bobbing up and down with her motions. I scramble to my feet, scooping up the trash can from off the floor and standing it back upright. There's still garbage scattered around my feet. I bend down and pick some of it up, and to my surprise, Gwen does, too. We reach for the same piece of garbage—a crumbled soda can—with her hand on top of mine. Our eyes meet again. I'm unable to look away.

"That was graceful," she says, the smirk still on her face.

My heart throbs from inside my rib cage.

Don't say something stupid, Christian. This is your chance to make magic happen, so be cool. Be cool!

"I got my license!" I blurt out.

No! That was totally not cool! What—I just—that wasn't supposed to happen. Arrgh!

Gwen laughs. Her laugh is light and bubbly, one I will never tire of hearing. "A license? Wow! You're all grown up now, huh?"

"Well, I am a working class citizen, so yeah, I guess I am all grown up."

Her eyes flicker with interest. "Oh, you work? You must tell me where."

I cringe just a little. I was hoping I could exaggerate to make myself seem more impressive, then leave it at that. Now she wants me to elaborate. What should I say? The truth? No. She'll think I'm just a minimum wage worker; a lowly bag boy, a shelf stocker, one who's on a fast-track to nowhere. I mean, that wouldn't be too inaccurate, but this is like the third time she's spoken to me all year, and the other two times were just trifling questions like, "Can I borrow a pencil?" and "The cafeteria's mac 'n cheese is stale today". I need to make it sound important. It's go big or go home!