Dude Looks Like a Lady

Finishing What You Started

  "Mr.Crock?"

I glanced up from my notes, the cap between my teeth cracking. Figured she'd ask eventually. Just didn't now eventually would be now, "Yes, Miss Stevens?"

  She smiled knowingly, ignoring the almost pleading stares from the other boys, tilting her chin up slightly, "See me after class, if that's alright?"

  Now, all eyes were on me and I could practically hear the rumors all over again, before I responded with a, "Yes, m'am." and a shy smile.

   She nodded sharply, returning to her papers.

   The rest of class consisted of small whispers meant for me to hear.

    "They're totally bangin' each other."

"Why would she want that puny punk?"

    "He ain't got nothin'."

"Who knows, maybe he does have...something..."

   I tucked in my chin, hurriedly racing through my notes again.

This week just keeps getting better and better...

***

   "So," she adjusted her papers, smacking the end of the stack against her desk to line them up, "how have you been lately?"

   I yawned, loosing my tie and shrugging of my coat, "Tired and hungry. Why?"

She nodded, sliding off her glasses and leaning back against her chair, "No reason. Just wanted to...well talk, if that's okay."

   "It's okay, I guess."

  "Good, good," she paused, fixing her pencils in the small tin vase perched beside her laptop, before frowning, "now, do you mind actually telling me how you have been?"

   I paled, squirming awkwardly in the chair. Have I been that obvious? Play dumb, play dumb..."I just told you, didn't I? Tired and hungry. Um...hungry and tired...yep, that about sums it up."

  "I'm not stupid," her frown deeper as she took on a therapist like stance, hands folded neatly into her pencil skirt and brows gathering on top of her head, "just to let you know. I'm a girl, too, in case you've forgotten," she crossed her legs, "now tell me, what's been eating you up?"

  "I just told y-," she gave me a look. The type of look that can leave an army of men shitting their pants within seconds. The type of look Charlie gives me on a regular basis. The kind that says, 'You'll be dead on the spot if you keep playing this crap with me.'

   So, like any person who values their life, even in the tiniest bit, I gave in, "I'm having...problems..."

She smirked, pink lips parted in the slightest of chuckles, "Figured. You're practically wearing it on your face."

   I flinched, picking at my fingers, "Have I really been that obvious?"

She shrugged, "To me, at least. So, what problems are you talking about? School? Newspaper?"

I blushed, finding a dead piece of skin caught beside the nail of my index finger and pulling at it, only to wince when it started to bleed. Great, just great...

  "The kind where it becomes very problematic?" I suggested weakly, sucking on my damaged finger.

 "Wow," she rolled her eyes, "that tells me so much. Mind being a little more specific, though? If it can get anymore detailed?"

  Shit, what do I do? Give in and gush all about the 'double date'? Tell this chick, that I've barely known for more than a week, about how I might be slightly, only slightly, attracted to my roommate? Or maybe that I'm so distracted I can't even finish a damn paper?