I'm sitting alone and eating breakfast on Monday when Anson slides into the booth across from me- for what seems like the thousandth time already this year.Seriously, it feels like he's always eaten breakfast with me.
"Hey." He gives me a quick greeting. His thick voice is deep this early in the morning. It reminds me of a few days ago, when he arrived at my door with biscuits in hand.
A few boring days have passed between us, now, his blue eyes glance down at my composition book; I shut it instantly and put it away.
"You've been writing a lot since we went to the bluff." He wears a proud look on his face and I unzip my bag and slide the book into it and out of his sight.
Thankfully, I have.
"Wouldn't you like to take credit for all of that?"
" Of course I would. I even had to rescue you from falling off a cliff that day. I want to make sure you at least got something out of all my effort!"
I roll my eyes. "Anson, it was a boulder, not a cliff."
"Same difference."
I laugh and think back to my embarrassing klutz moment. My face feels warm and Anson raises a brow.
"Either way, you enjoyed the view?"
Duh.
"I did." I say warmly."the bluff was gorgeous. Thank you."
"Yeah... I meant the view of me." A smile tugs at his lips and I roll my eyes.
Of course he did.
"Yeah right."
Anson basks in silence for a moment, before clearing his throat and speaking again.
"Well, I'm normally not an IOU kinda guy, but I do have a favor to ask from you, now."
A favor? I frown suspiciously. What could Anson possibly want from me.
"What do you want?"
"That pretty little brain of yours."
He smirks and I fake gag.
"Spit it out, Fischart."
"Fineeee." He draws out the word reluctantly and effortlessly ruffles his hair with a hand.
"I need help with my history homework. Tragic, I know." He sighs. "Now that we're studying the war of 1812, I'm so lost. Of course, I managed to stalk your grades and see that you're somehow passing with flying colors.. though I'm not surprised."
I laugh a little and he takes a breath, continuing, "I was hoping you could tutor me sometime so I don't bomb Friday's quiz."
He flashes a suggestive smile, and I feel uneasy. Tutoring him means risking an awkward run-in with his jerky dad.
Unless I did it at my house.
I bite my lip. Bryn wouldn't be home yet from her extracurricular activities...
Anson's azure gaze eats away at my heartstrings as soon as I meet it.
How can I resist?
I huff defeatedly.
"You could come over to my house after my job gets over." I offer. "As long as Bryn and my mom aren't there."
YOU ARE READING
His Blue ✓
Teen FictionIndie Jasper is a shy, unknown writer. Anson Fischart is the school's pretty boy. Indie is not popular by any means, but Anson's status of quarterback, paired with his sandy blond hair and blue-eyed gaze have him at the top of the school's hierarch...