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Welp.

"I'm going to get some punch." I sigh. My best friend and I are at this gorgeous (like seriously beautiful) party. It's her second date with her new crush. She was ecstatic when he asked, and I couldn't say no to her when she asked if I'd come with because her crush's best friend, who he was obviously trying to set me up with, was coming. Let's just say he is more than a little annoying. Plus, he won't leave me alone. I'm not an awful person, so of course I've been nothing but nice (mostly) to the guy, but he is really starting to get on my nerves. I need a break from his sooo hilarious jokes. The kid is starting to give me a headache.

I stand up and start walking towards the drinks table, hoping for some peace and quiet, but of course, the world has no pity. He follows me, chatting on and on about how great his rock collection is. I kid you not. Rock collection. They're not even cool rocks like quartz. No, he collects different types of gravel. Real interesting. But, being the wonderful person I am, I nod along, inserting ahhs and wows when necessary, and pretend like I care at least a little bit.
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It's been 30 minutes. A half hour of this idiot talking my ear off about gravel. I would have gone back to our table to beg my bestie to leave with me, but when I glanced over there, she was talking animatedly with her date. They were leaning in, and she looked too happy to be disturbed. Now I really wish I had anyways. While I've been hearing about the Moh's Scale, they are currently kissing and there is no way I'm walking anywhere near that.

I interrupt the gravel worshiper, making some exuse about needing to use the restroom and start to walk away. I need to get away from him or I'm going to have to pour my drink over his head to make this event any sort of interesting. The problem is though, that when I try to leave he grabs my wrist. The clueless geek expression is gone, replaced by frustration. It doesn't suit him.

"I know that you're lying. You haven't paid attention to a word I've said this entire evening." he grunts out.

Well can you blame me buddy; you're kind of boring. "That's not true," I defend myself anyways, "and could you please let go of me?" I jerk my arm, but his grip doesn't losen.

"I know I'm not the best looking guy, but the least you can do is give me a shot." He's now starting to look angry.

"Look, if you want the truth, I don't like you, ok? I'm here for my friend and I've tried to be nice, so sue me if I wasn't as convincing as I thought. Now let me go."

"No." He retorted, his face set in hard lines.

"Excuse me?" He did not just say that. That little piece of trash. I try to yank my arm away, but he holds on.

"You have listen to what I have to say."

"Why on earth would I want to listen to you?" By now, I was pulling with my arm continuously, but he still didn't let go. Now, he wasn't the only one that was mad.

He kept trying to talk to me, trying to convince me of I don't know what. I wasn't listening anymore. I was pissed. How dare he! He thinks he can treat me like that? Well, you picked the wrong girl to mess with mister. Just as I was about to pull back my arm and release one of my famously brutal punches, a hand is placed on the kid's wrist. A voice, who I assume the hand belongs to say, "I think you should let her go."

I look up to see a tall, lean boy around my age. His height surprises me, as I'm 5'9" and not easily dwarfed. Dark brown waves, the color like chocolate, circle his head in an unruly fashion that only adds to the attractiveness created by his face. A straight nose, full lips, high cheekbones, and an angular jaw, along with a tanned complextion and dark brow, made the boy excessively attractive. I mean really, why do some people get ALL the good genes?

"We're fine. Go interrupt someone else, would you?" The kid is still angry and hasn't even looked at the guy yet.

"I said let her go. She obviously doesn't want you touching her, so don't." Nice voice. Very nice voice. Especially when it's defending me. What? Chivalry is something I can't resist.

He's staring hard at the kid, who's finally looked at him. I'm pretty sure he peed his pants. Everything about this guy screamed formidable. The rock fanatic slowly let go of my wrist, eyes locked with the stranger's, face a mask of terror. "M-m-maybe you're r-r-right. I um, I'm gonna just, go. Yeah." He puts his head down and speed walks away. The stranger watches after him, making sure he leaves. Then he turns to me and asks if I'm ok, conern laced in his really, very nice voice. I murmur a ya, but I barely hear myself. Good gravy, those eyes. Deep blue with lighter streaks intermitten, like a rolling ocean. An ocean I am drowning in.