His heart was hammering - urgently, wildly, violently… it was absolutely out of control. The young boy was sure he was dying, for there was no possible way that the desperate organ inside of his chest could continue like this for much longer. Didn't stress make you die faster or something?
He was hot and sweaty all over, the wood beneath his fingertips feeling more like slick metal rather than an actual school desk. The flyways near his forehead lay plastered all over his ears and temples in disarray, each glistening strand sticking to the wet flesh as if they had been purposely glued there. It was uncomfortable, and even worse, disgusting. What was puberty anyway? Was it this horrendously terrible for everybody? What did his classmates think of his growth spurt, the newly formed pimples on the edge of his baby chin? Did they notice how he had one more than yesterday? And if so, did they care?
Did she care?
Matt glanced around nervously, and saw no evidence that any of his friends did indeed, care. Nobody else had even seemed to notice his panicking, in fact, and that was good.
That was very good.
Instead, all he saw were the blank faces of his classmates - the obvious way all of their tired eyes were clouded over in blatant uninterest in whatever lecture they were attending. Biology, was it? Matt didn't know. All he did know was that he had to get control of himself, and quickly. Class was about to end, give or take five minutes, and the feather-like lump in his jean's pocket had grown to feel like molten lead over the course of an hour or so. It was unbearable, and stupid, and childish. Why couldn't he just muster up the courage to do it? It was one note, one girl… one outstretch of a hand and then he could be done with it and run all the way back to his locker where he would hide out and wait for an answer.
Or maybe that would be unbearable.
He didn't know.
C'mon, Matt. Just do it already.
Shy, green eyes unwillingly tore themselves away from the wood-top of his desk and peeked sideways, to where a flash of shocking red abruptly caught his attention. He tried to be as indiscreet as he could, but his lungs were just screaming too damn loud! Surely someone would notice him.
Matt swallowed dryly, feeling the breath hitch in his throat as his head turned a fraction of an inch to the right, where the scent of flowers suddenly smashed up against his nose as if the teacher himself had drilled a dozen bouquet of roses right into his face. It was a strong fragrance to be sure, but still, it was nice in a way. Not to mention it was the perfume she wore, making it his favorite smell in the entire world by default. But was that really so silly though?
Oh my GOD! Matthew Smith, pass the damn note over to her this instant! NOW! While you have the chance! Do it, or you're a COWARD who doesn't even deserve to know the answer to your own BLOODY question!
His conscious was loud. Matt cringed slightly in his seat and ducked his head, mentally berating himself for… berating himself, he guessed.
"Shh, already! Shut up!"
"Hm..?" a lazy voice then responded.
Matt froze and waited a beat, just to see if he had imagined the source of inquiry coming from the same direction she was in. Slowly lifting his head off of his arms, he blinked a few times, and paled instantly as he came face-to-face with the most stunning pair of hazel eyes that he had ever seen in his entire life. If there was any breath left within him, it was gone without a doubt, but still he smiled weakly at the freckled ginger who encouraged him on with a grin of her own.
What?
"I… what… Karen?" Matt then stammered.
The girl with vibrant red hair, called 'Karen', flashed him her teeth in another grin. "I don't know. You said something… I wasn't sure if you were talking to me or not."
Oh, god.
He had berated himself aloud?
Feeling a rush of heat climb its way up his still-slick neck, Matt exhaled shakily, entirely all too aware of the paper note still inside his pocket. He opened his mouth to say something - anything - she was waiting for him to do so. Any word in the universe would have been sufficient, but instead, Matt found himself wide-eyed and cold as he dug out the god-forsaken piece of folded paper that his jeans was harboring. The ginger girl watched patiently, making sure that their teacher wasn't looking, and then flinched back as the delicately creased thing fumbled out of his hands and onto her lap. He paused, horrified at his own clumsiness, and then turned away from her entirely and buried his head once again into his own two hands.
He didn't see Karen unfold the note eagerly, nor did he witness the faint smile touching upon her lips as she read each detailed word that was shamelessly embellished with his own personal calligraphy. Matt merely sighed deeply, refusing to meet her crinkled eyes even as the bell incessantly wailed out their dismissal. Shrugging out of his seat, Matt quickly stuffed all of his homework into his backpack before retreating into the bustling hallway outside of the seemingly stuffy room - doing all of this without even so much as another glance in Karen's direction.
He kept his head down low and quiet, counting each footstep as he made his way wordlessly to the outside bleachers on the far side of the school. They faced the school's track field which, in turn, oversaw a large hill that perilously led down into the main parking lot. It was from this particular spot that Matt often watched his school empty out little by little, until nothing remained but the quiet tangle of his own thoughts. Sometimes, however, they were loud. Loud enough to make him regret ever thinking at all.
Like now.
Good job, Matt. You really blew it, didn't you?
He grunted loudly in response and kicked at the dirt beneath his shoe.
Yeah. That's what I thought.
A few moments passed by in silence, with Matt as perfectly still as he could be. He sat perched on the lowest bleacher, his heart still hammering away as if all signal to his brain had been cut off somehow. It was only when he heard the distant sound of footsteps did he move at all - the blood returned to his neck as he heard a familiar voice calling out his name, each time closer before than the last.
"Karen?"
It had been Karen, indeed. The lanky ginge was dashing towards him, each long and uneven stride causing her messy ponytail to bounce along with her. She was out of breath and wildly excited, causing Matt to become upright immediately. He willed his shaky knees to remain locked together even as she crashed right into him, nearly knocking them both over.
"Oh! Sorry! Sorry!"
Instinctively, Matt fastened his arms around her as they reclaimed their balance together. He made a noise then - somewhere in between a laugh and another grunt as he politely pushed her away.
"Are you okay, Kazza?"
Karen giggled meekly, running an embarrassed hand through her too-long bangs as she mirrored Matt's blush.
"Yeah. I just slipped on some ice, I think. Sorry again."
"Er… it's no problem," Matt responded robotically. "Just as long as you didn't hurt yourself."
Smooth.
If there was ever a bad time for an awkward pause, it was right then and there. The two gangly pre-teens stood there quietly, each dressed in preparation for the upcoming winter season. Matt crossed his arms nonchalantly while cleverly avoiding Karen's curiously infuriating gaze. Obviously she had read the note, and obviously she had already formed an answer to his question.
So… what was she waiting for, exactly?
"So…" Karen then blurted out, as if on cue. "I read your letter," she furthered with wide, glowing eyes.
Matt bit down on his lip and chuckled nervously, making sure to clear his throat afterwards. He stared into her ivory face and shrugged once.
"What… do you think, then?"
With a dazzling smile, Karen fished out the same note out of her own jean pocket and sluggishly handed it to him. Matt exhaled slowly and grabbed at it, making sure to ignore the electricity that ignited his knuckles as her own hand brushed against his in the process. Casting another anxious glance at her confident expression gave him the courage he needed to unfold the worn piece of paper. He couldn't help but hold his breath as desperate eyes raked over his own hand writing.
Karen, I honestly think you're the most beautiful girl I've ever laid eyes on. I always have. Honest. Will you please be my date to the homecoming dance? I promise to make it the best night of the year. I would be honored —
God. Even reading his own message now was nearly unendurable to do in front of her. He skimmed the rest and let his buzzing eyes drop down to the most important part…
The part that he had envisioned seeing for so long —
Matt almost couldn't even look, but then…
Check a box, please….. :)
_xxx_ Yes
_ No
Had his heart finally stopped beating? He felt something unimaginably intense bubble into his stomach before beaming outwardly as he read the new print there in Karen's own hand-writing.
It took you long enough, stupid face. Of course I'll go to the dance with you! :') I'm so happy now!
"Really?" Matt demanded excitedly as the note suddenly slipped from his frigid fingers.
Karen nodded gleefully and dashed straight into Matt once more - on purpose. This time, however, Matt caught her deliberately around the waist and swung her around in a short circle, their carefree laughter pervading the air around them. Karen was warm against him, and he squeezed her gently, burying his frozen face into her willowy shoulder.
Another sweet moment passed by in bliss, and Matt chuckled lowly, the sound muffled by her thick jacket. Finally finding the will to pull away, he dropped his arms down to her hands which he held just a little too tightly before finding her face once again.
"Really?"
She grinned widely, her porcelain visage colored by new blush. Simple eyeliner was applied to the bottom of her waterline, and long lashes casted shadows across the tops of her cheeks in the chilly sunlight. Pieces of red hair fell all along a slender and feminine neck where her ponytail had come loose - but it sort of looked natural anyway, and Matt found himself drinking all of her in with ecstatic eyes - eyes that he wouldn't close to this girl ever again in his fricken' lifetime. He watched as dimples formed around her mouth - the kind you get from smiling too long, and gratefully inhaled the profound scent of her flowery perfume. Her eyes twinkled mischievously for just a second, and then she giggled again, squeezing his hands right on back.
"Really."
