That Stupid Little L-Word:

Chapter Twenty One:

By the time the round clock that hangs over the front desk in my art class strikes 2:41, I have to face the cruel, and unwanted facts. A surge of disappointment swallows me whole as the last wisp of hope flies out the window.

Blue-Eyes has indeed abandoned me for the day. 

The buzzer like bell blares through my morbid thoughts, and I snatch my backpack from the ground. I shove my arms through the padded straps and then cross them over my chest --only to immediately force them to hang limply at my sides. I knew I had looked like I was sulking and as much as I love ice-cream, I didn't want another incident like the one that happened at lunch today to repeat itself. I become swallowed by the sea of students pushing and shoving toward the student parking lot, and emerge somewhere near my truck. 

I unlock it with a press of a button on my magic super clicker, and then pile inside the cab. I struggle free from my backpack and toss it into the passenger seat. With a sigh, I slump down in my seat and prop my elbow against the middle console. 

My cheek smashes against my fist. 

I watch, bored out of my mind, and wait for the students to clear the parking lot so I don't hit anybody in my frazzled, and depressed state. 

It takes longer than I had expected, and when I finally pull into the driveway connected to my house, I can see my mother's blurred form through the front window. She moves when the truck rolls to a stop --toward the front door. I grimace. 

It's not like I skipped today. My eyes flicker toward the clock in my tuck. And I was only ten minutes later than usual. 

I wrench the key from the keyhole, and the truck's sputters die down. I grab my bag and kick the door open, and somehow manage to get my shoe caught up in the door. After a few very unladylike shouts and angry hand gestures, and my rump collides with the pavement, I manage to untangle myself. I jump to my feet with a sophisticated flare and brush the dirt from my skirt. 

Nobody saw that, I try to convince myself as I walk to the front door. 

My mother waits for me in the foyer with her arms crossed. Despite the irritated undertone to her voice, and the angry stance, her eyebrows are furrowed with genuine concern, and the second I open the door, she asks, "Are you okay?" 

I nod. "Sorry I was late. There was a lot of kids in the parking lot." 

She completely ignores me, and makes a dramatic sweeping gesture toward the living room. The concern that had softened her facial features vanishes, and is replaced with a hard pressed and sardonic smile. "You've received a package." 

My nose scrunches up, "From who?" 

My mother doesn't give me a proper answer. Instead, she grumbles something unintelligible beneath her breath and she moves toward the living room. I drop my backpack beside the door and then waddle after her like the confused duckling that I am. As I round the corner, a small gasp bubbles past my lips. I stare at the strange sight that sits atop the  black leather couch.  

"What the hell?" the words fly out before I can stop them, and immediately I cringe in preparation for the harsh reprimanding I am about to receive. 

As if on cue, my mother whirls around on her heel and jabs a finger at me, snarling out, "Language!" 

I smile weakly at her, and apologize. Her sea colored orbs narrow at me and I hear her grumble more irritable things under her breath as she disappears into the kitchen. With extreme caution, I shuffle forward, toward the monstrosity on my couch. My eyebrows merge together as I glance it over, and I lean closer, sneezing as I inhale the pollinated scent of bleached white, and ruby red roses. My fingertip grazes one of the white colored petals, and I marvel at the softness. 

Something yellow sticks out among the mass of red and white, and I pull on it. A crisp rectangular shaped card topples out and floats gracefully to the couch.

I pick it up and straighten myself, eyes glancing over it. 

Then I press my lips together into a faint line, as my cheeks become one with the bright red roses. No wonder my mother was a grizzly bear this afternoon. 

Scripted in elegant hand writing, which I knew was way too curvy and old fashioned to belong to Blue-Eyes, was the words: 'Sorry I couldn't be there to see your beautiful face. Hope the roses make up for my absence. -Seth'

I glared at the card in my hands. Alfred had to have written it --or typed it out on a computer, or something. A pout wormed its way onto my features.

I didn't want roses.

I wanted Blue-Eyes to come to school and get a boner over my adorable outfit. 

The vase the roses had been stuffed into is nice; an elegantly carved glass, thick to the touch, and cold from the water that had swallowed the stems of the flowers within it. I cradle it to my chest as I lug it toward my room. I set it down on top of my desk and then stare at it, unsure of what to do. 

I've never received flowers before. Am I supposed to send a gift card back or something?

I turn my back to them and plop down on top of my bed. I stretch out and bury my face into the soft comforter. My mind swirls and churns with an organized chaos. Part of me wants to stare at the flowers some more, and smell them, and gush about how Blue-Eyes sent me freaking flowers. 

The other --and more rational part-- is going over how much homework I have, and how if I don't get started on it soon, I'll be up until two o'clock in the morning trying to get it finished. 

And I am not waking up at the crack of dawn again. 

A clink bristles past my ears.

I lift my head and glance around, eyes narrowing with suspicion. Another clinking sound echoes throughout my room. I climb off of my bed and walk around cautiously, trying to keep my steps quiet so I can listen for the sound. Something clinks again, and I follow the noise toward my window. 

I swallow a scream as a circular shaped gray white thing smacks into my window, making that annoying little clinking sound. My fingers work fast against the lock and then I shove my window open, peering out. My eyes widen into golf-balls as I stare down at the grassy ground below.

A pebble the size of a marble hits me square in the forehead and I grimace at the small flare of pain. "Owe." 

"Oh! Sorry, I didn't mean to hit you," a flurry of words bubbles past Blue-Eye's mouth, and he smiles sheepishly as he drops his handful of pebbles. He pauses when I snort, and arches an eyebrow up at me. 

"What are you doing here?" I fold my arms across my chest. 

"I came to see if you'd gotten my flowers."

This time, it was my turn to arch a perfectly sculpted --I made sure of it this morning-- eyebrow. I lean against the metal base of the window, and stare down at him. He laughs, and then shrugs lightly, "I also came to see if you wanted to catch a movie or something?" 

I roll my eyes, secretly squealing like a pig on the inside, and jab my finger toward the drive way. "Meet me there in five." 

I have to wrestle with my window to get it to go back down, but don't bother locking it. Before I can leave my room, I dart to the vanity to make sure that I am still the picture of perfection. I have to adjust my hair a bit --and add the flower back in-- and wipe the makeup smudges. Once I am done, I rush down the stairs, calling a hasty, "See you later!" to my mother. 

Blue-Eyes waits for me at the end of the drive way, his sexy car nowhere to be seen. "There's a movie theatre just outside your neighborhood. I figured it'd be just as fun to walk," he explains, when a wounded expression morphs across my face. 

I nod, "Alright then." 

I watch his eyes rake over my slender form, widen a bit, and then crinkle at the corners. We start walking and I jump a little when his fingers brush against mine. He takes my hand and then squeezes it. 

I grin and I wonder briefly what he thought of the gorgeous outfit I'd worked so hard to put together this morning, and then look down. My grin turns smug. 

Mission accomplished.