May Hatfield was – in her own opinion – nothing remarkable. Passable good looks when she made an effort, passable conversationalist, mild mannered enough not to upset people just by opening her mouth but able to speak up if she thought someone was being mean enough, but maybe just a tiny bit absurd in the way she chose to walk the streets with her nose buried in a book.
It was one fine Saturday morning in August. She was on her way to her second week of her part-time job at a local café, which she'd applied for with the intention that she would save up some cash before college began in September, when she walked into someone.
She barely glanced up as she said, "Sorry," and then turned her attention back to the book in her hands.
It was snatched out of her hands. She blinked for a second, wondering where her precious Middle Earth had disappeared off to as she looked at the pavement ahead of her, hands still held out and cradling an imaginary book. "Wha...?"
"You shouldn't read and walk. It's annoying to other people."
She blushed and turned. Hadn't she mastered not walking into people while she read? She'd learnt to keep one eye on her surroundings but sometimes the story got so intriguing that she needed both.
"Um...Sorry," she said to the black-clad guy who was now looking at the blurb of the book. "...Bad habit." She reached for the book but he held it out of her grasp, still reading.
"Okay then," she muttered, "...no problem. I'll just wait over here and suffer glares from passers-by while you finish checking out my book..." She clasped her hands in front of her. "Douche."
"What did you call me?" he demanded, slapping the book back into her hands. He was a good-looking guy, she supposed, with wavy chestnut hair that was long enough to brush back, though a few strands hung over his forehead. "Watch where you're going, shorty." he said.
"I said I was sorry," she grumbled, wrapping her arms around the book in case he decided to snatch it again. How dare he!
"Freak." he grumbled. Her mouth fell open and without another glance at him, she turned and strode away. What an asshole!
She would fume for days about the douche of a guy who'd dared to lay a hand on her book. That was why, when she saw the same guy sauntering into her college literature class for the induction some weeks later, she recognised him and was struck dumb.
"Okay, if you'll all quieten down please," the teacher, a slim guy with messy brown hair that fell to his shoulders, walked to the front of the class and put down a set of books, "we can now begin."
The conversations of students newly introduced to one another slowly began to die down. May was answering the question of the bespectacled girl beside her, who'd asked which school she'd gone to, when she looked around and caught the douchebag's eye.
It wasn't a big classroom. There were about fourteen square tables arranged in a U. She was sitting directly opposite him and it was getting annoying how often she glanced up and saw him.
"Do you know him?" the bespectacled girl asked, catching the glance that passed between her and the boy. Her voice dropped to a little more than a whisper as she added, "he is fine."
May chuckled. "No, I don't know him. I just banged into him when I was reading once."
"He keeps looking at you."
"Well, that makes him a bit of a freak, doesn't it?" She flinched when a tiny wad of paper hit her in the forehead. "What are you doing?" she cried.
The last of the conversations finally died down as everybody turned to her. She flushed a bright scarlet, not liking the sudden attention.
"Thank you, young lady." the teacher said. "That certainly shut you all up."
May pointed an accusing finger at the boy opposite. "Sir, he just threw paper at me!"
"Well, you shouldn't be talking bad about people, should you?" the chestnut-haired boy huffed, reaching a long leg out under his table and knocking the edge of hers. "I'm not that far away."
"All right, children!" the teacher said, raising his voice. "It's the first day of college so let's all try to get along!"
May made a face at the boy, which earned a fewtitters from her classmates. He muttered something under his breath and flippedher the bird when the teacher bent down to look at his register. She gaped andthen, fed up of the idiot, she resolutely folded her arms and turned her headtowards the teacher. Tomorrow, she would sit at the front on that side so shewouldn't have to look at his annoying face.
YOU ARE READING
Book Girl and Chestnut Boy
Romance"If you want me to be your friend, sure. But you have to tell me what's going on. Why all this secrecy? Why the fighting? Did you get into another one just now?" She looked at his hands, half-expecting more bandages and bruises, but there were no fr...
