Most people say that first impressions last forever; that the first thing you say to someone sticks in their mind, and creates a permanent opinion of you.
God, I hoped this didn’t become his opinion of me. This flushed, tired looking young man in baggy clothes, no doubt looking like a bum.
“Hey, I need your help. Please,” I pleaded, practically getting on my knees before the guy, “I’ll pay you. I’ll do anything.”
Asking for help with something so simple as school work was a huge blow to my pride. Though I did have a small fragment of my broken ego remaining simply because it took me so long to reach this place, and allow my pride to take such a low blow.
He looked at me in surprise, slightly down at me because Damn this guy was tall. “You… You want my help?” he asked in a soft voice, and it was a wonderful sound, one I wouldn’t mind hearing more of.
Oh knock it off, Kirchstein! You’ve only just talked to the guy for the first time! Sure, I’d seen him around, and gladly admired the back of his head from the back of class.
Marco was his name, and I’d been wanting to talk to him for a while. My only problem was that I’d never knew what to say to him.
And now, I finally had some reason, and the evidence hung limply in my hand, several ominous F’s littering my report card.
He cleared his throat, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, Alright,” he said after a few moments of hesitation.
I could feel my eyes widen slightly, and I grinned at him, nearly jumping forward and hugging him. I held back that urge though, simply nodding.
“Thank you! Fuck, thanks so much!” I exclaimed, grinning at him like an idiot, “So then, when are you available? I mean, when can we get together?” I asked, realizing it almost seemed like I was asking him on a date or something.
Yeah, right. Marco was as straight as a board, as far as I knew. I'd seen him at the coffee shop I went to daily with some small blonde girl, and they were pretty couple-y looking off in the corner. Or, at least, they had been studying together, and there had been enough hand-brushing and lean-ins to hint at something.
Unknowingly I sort of started to daze off, lost in the thought of if studying with Marco would be the same.
"Uhh... Jean?" I heard Marco's voice suddenly, a hand waving in front of my face. Flushing slightly, I snapped my gaze back to Marco's freckled cheeks. "Huh? Sorry, what was that?" I asked, running a hand through the hair at the top of my head.
"I said I'm free every night from 6-8... week ends I'm open all day," he repeated, giving me a strange look. I nodded, taking in the information.
"Can we start tonight then? My grades are crap and I could really use the help," I sighed, waving the paper in my hand as if to showcase my failures.
He hesitated for a moment, then nodded, checking his watch. "Sure, but instead of paying me, how about you just get some pizza or something?" The brunette suggested, and I immediately nodded, laughing. It was about a half hour before 6, so I had plenty of time to go get pizza. "Meet you back here in twenty minutes?"
