Right At Your Door

Chapter Two

"With him was all the company I needed."

<<<>>>

“C’est fou,” Aimée muttered under her breath. “This is crazy."

“It’s crazy that you’re here in school? In Seattle? With me?” Christophe responded, grinning down at her as he strolled with ease through the hallways, while she had to hurry herself to stay by his side. It annoyed Aimée how tall Christophe was; he was at least a foot taller and she barely reached his shoulder. “Why, yes it is.”

Aimée huffed in annoyance while she rolled her eyes. “That is not what I mean.” Glancing around, she felt self-conscious whenever she made eye contact with anyone.

“Relax, will you?” Christophe told her. He reached for her hand and slipped his long fingers between hers. Heat instantly seeped into Aimée’s cheeks despite the shivers that clung to her body from the cold outside. “It’s not like they can smell the European wafting off of you.”

“Hey, Chris!” someone called. Christophe stopped walking, pulling Aimée to a halt as well. She watched curiously as a group of boys approached them.

“This is new,” the same voice said as the group stopped in front of them. The voice belonged to a boy with an intentional wavy brown mess. Aimée took in his grey sweater over the blue collared shirt; he certainly dressed with purpose. He was tall, but not nearly as lanky as Christophe. Aimée noticed how none of the boys were. The boy smiled at the pair with a perfect set of pearly teeth. “Well Chris, who is this?” Aimée ran a hand self-consciously through her dark locks. Despite the warm brown of the boy’s eyes, the scrutiny Aimée was under was so intense, she felt like she was under a microscope.

“Always a poet, aren’t you, Granger?” Christophe joked good-naturedly. He smiled at the boys as he let go of Aimée’s hand and instead wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pressing her right against his side. Aimée yelped slightly in surprise. “Aimée, meet my idiots,” Christophe said, grinning at her panicked expression.

The boy directed his angelic smile at Aimée. “Dawson Granger,” he said. Dawson reached for Aimée’s hand and kissed it lightly. Aimée hardly gave a reaction; where she was from, kisses were free and plentiful. Christophe, on the other hand, frowned and coughed, pulling Aimée slightly closer to him.

“Hi, my name is Jack Amadeus Mackenzie,” the blonde boy next to Dawson spoke up. He was the shortest of the four, but still towered over Aimée. His blue eyes sparkled behind his thick-framed glasses. A much lighter shade than Aimée’s own intense irises, his eyes were closer to the color of the sky. Despite his glasses and argyle knit sweater, he was still undeniably good-looking, fitting perfectly with Christophe and the rest of the group. He grabbed Aimée’s hand from Dawson’s hold but instead chose to shake it vigorously than to kiss it. “But that's really long. You can just call me Mac.”

“Because you can never separate the nerd from his Apple products,” the final boy spoke up. Dark-skinned, his perfect teeth stood in stark contrast and Aimée liked how easy his smile seemed. Somehow, he pulled off his all black attire and his dark clothes did not put off Aimée in any way. “I’m Jett. Jett Rowland.”

“More like Jett Black,” Mac joked. “That’s the only color he ever wears.”

“Aimée,” Aimée breathed, feeling slightly overwhelmed. She never really conversed with boys, excluding Christophe, and she now had three strangers right in front of her. She took a minute step closer to Christophe. “Vaughan.”

“So, what brings you here to Creek High, Amy?” Mac asked.

“Yeah, and why is such a pretty little thing like you with Christy here?” Dawson teased and Christophe leaned forward to hit the guy on his forearm.