My hands are shaking as I approach you. I can't breathe and I know it's silly to feel this way because you know me. You know me better than I know myself and that's why my knees shouldn't be wobbling. My throat shouldn't be bone dry and my palms slippery with sweat. I shouldn't be faint around you, or have this uncontrollable need to be near you. It's just not right. And I'm used to being right. I'm used to having the perfect answers and everything neat. That was before I met you. Now all I can think about is you. Every second of the day - from when I wake up, to when I crawl into bed - is about you. I don't want it to be about you.
But as I walk toward you, this crush I've had on you for so many months doesn't feel like just a crush. Crushes don't go on for an eternity, nor do they make you fail your Biology quiz. They don't make you lose interest in your hobbies or make your head spin so much that by the time you eat lunch you feel sick already.
That's because you're not just a crush, Elijah Goldsworthy.
My hands are trembling and I feel like I'm gonna trip over a bookbag in the aisle to get to you. Why did Ms. Dawes assign such a project? Really, I would've been fine admiring you from afar but no, I just had to get you for a partner. And it's not such a bad thing. I could talk to you all day long if I could, but I always feel like I'm too boring for you. You're so much more interesting and here am I; a nerd. A girl who's so advanced she's in a class a year ahead. One who does her homework every night as soon as she's home. One who'se never disobeyed her parents. And you're a just a mystery! How could I ever compete with that?
I walk up to your desk and wait for you to look up. I remember the day I first spoke to you so many months ago to ask you your name. And you say Eli. Eli Goldsworthy. And then the bell rang. I had lept away from you and ran off to my next class, in hopes you wouldn't see the blush tainting my skin. But here I am again. standing so close to you, I can feel your body heat.
I think I'm going to hyperventilate. Breathe evenly, I think, and try to accomplish this.
"Yes?" you say in that gentle, yet intimidating voice I adore.
"Ms. Dawes said we have to check our papers," I squeak, and mentally face-palm myself. Why me, dead God, why do I have to get nervous around him?
You just nod and I can sense your uncomfortable. We've never spoken before except for that one time in Septemer, the twelfth to be exact, and I doubt you remember it. Only a weird girl like me would remember such a thing. We walk over to Ms. Dawes' desk and she smiles. She hands us our papers and gives us two red pens. Mine looks like someone chewed on the cap but I don't say anything.
As we walk back to our desk, you sort of smirk at me. I evade that smirk by avoiding your eyes and looking down at the linolium floor. Three more steps until I read my plain wooden desk. Just a few more milliseconds and I can look into your eyes and have a reason to do so.
"So what did you write your essay about?" you question, looking at me with those piercing green eyes.
"Uh...well the prompt asked for society's biggest problem and I chose the economy," I state matter-of-factly. "And you?"
"Intolerance," you deadpan and I feel myself sway from just that one word. Your lips are plump and pink and I just want to kiss them. Instead I look down at your paper and start reading. You're a really good writer. Just a bit wordy and I tell you so.
"Yeah well Ms. Edwards, your essay isn't exactly perfect," you smirk arrogantly and my jaw hangs open.
"Excuse me?" I spit out.
"For starters, you use a lot of hyperbole which in my opinion isn't good," you mumble, biting the red pen. "Um...you misspelled a few words but that's not the main concern. Your writing isn't personal. It's boring. I could get this out of a text book any day."
I blush at your blunt words. No one's offended me so badly I want to slap you. But I like you too much.
"Listen, Edwards, how about we continue this after school at my house," you suggest slyly. "The bell's about to ring anyway. I need help, you need help...it's simple."
I bite my lip uneasily. I've never been over to a boy's house. Ever. And you're not just a boy, Eli Goldworthy. You're the boy I loose my apetite over. The one who's responsible for me failing my English quiz. You're a lot more than I ever thought you would be, Eli, and I can't go on like this. I can't keep falling and getting hurt because you won't like me back. It's unethical too, since you're my English partner. I want to act like you're nothing more, like you're just a boy in my class, but you've turned into much more than that.
And so, I nod my head. I can't breathe but I don't let you see me hyperventilate. I look away from those hypnotizing emerald orbs and glare at my paper. I'm falling for you and you don't even know.
"I'll give you my address," you say, scribbling down a street on a piece of paper. "It's not too far from here. I'd wait for you in the parking lot but I'm pretty sure you wouldn't wanna ride in my hearse."
You drive a hearse. I already knew that. I saw you driving past my house in your death-mobile. I was a bit scared at first because I thought all the rumors at school might've been true but you would never kill anyone. I know you don't show it enough but you're a nice person. Caring, and sweet, and sarcastic and -
And the bell rings, it's buzzing in my ears. I look at you and you look away, shaking your head absentmindedly. I pack up my grammar book and notebooks and make my way out the door. I look back and catch you looking at me with a glazed expression. I try not to dwell on the possibilities but I can't help it. A thought flashes across my mind, that maybe, just maybe, you might like me. Not in the way I like you, but...I don't know.
My thoughts are all jumbled up as I make my way across the hall and over to Biology. Mr. Keating will probably knock off a few points for being late, now that the bell has rung. I didn't hear it though, because I was so focused on you.
Eli Goldsworthy, you will be the death of me.
"Miss Edwards, care to explain why you're late to my class?" Mr. Keating says, making me blush.
I trample over my words and blush like crazy. I guess he takes pity on me because he just nudges his chin over to my table.
My biology partner is KC Guthrie. He's a jock.
And I know it might be bad to label people bu tI can't help it. Everything about him scream's 'jock,' from the way he talks to the way he dresses. But he's actually smart and I don't mind letting him help me in all the questions I don't understand.
I trip on my way over to my table. KC snickers under his breath; did I mention he's not exactly nice to me? He considers me a nerd, a geek, a loner, all because I'm not a cheerleader or jock like all his meathead friends. I also don't shut up when he insults me, like evryone else. just because he's popular doesn't mean I have to stand aside and let him talk all those things about me.
"What a loser," Jenna Middleton sneers from the table in front of me.
She's just jealous because she wanted to sit next to KC but Mr. Keating arranged us in alphabetical order. I enjoy the way she gets so jealous of me. Me! For crying out loud, it't not like I like him.
He's not Eli.
"Take out Chapter Six's Assessment," the teacher says in that voice that wakes me up instantly because it's so loud.
Class breezes by, as does the rest of the day. I pass my World Studies quiz, my Italian oral test and my Health test. It's a great day so far and it feel like it will only get better. I walk to my locker after eighth period to drop off my books when I catch someone staring at me.
My heart skips a couple beats when I notice the dark clothing.
The emerald green eyes.
That smirk.
And I swear, I think I just might die right then.
Because the way he looks at me, it isn't the way he looks at anyone else. Not the way he stares at the cheerleaders or the Homecoming queen or the jerks that bully him. No, he stares at me like I'm actually worth something. Like I'm special. And believe me when I say I am not special in any way. I'm just a regulart teen girl but he's so much more.
"Edwards, are you up for a little joyride?" he calls out, and the way he says it makes shivers run down my spine.
"Uh.."
I hate stuttering in front of you.
You notice because your smirk gets wider and you walk toward me. My hands start shaking and I almost drop my Italian book on the floor. I try catching my breath but being near you makes me like this.
I'm such a girl.
A typical girl who loves you.
"I won't throw you in the back of my hearse and bury you in the woods," you promise.
"I wasn't worried about that," I blurt out and my eyes widen. I'd never been able to form such a coherent sentence around you but now I did. And it feels good to say something without you making me blush madly.
"Oh really? Well then let's go," you say, walking back to the entrance of the school. You turn around half away and smirk. "You coming."
And I don't think twice before shutting my locker and following you outside.
You know what they say about being in love. It all feels so perfect and bright and amazing. And you feel like you're walking on Cloud 9. The world is sunny and there's this feeling you get in the pit of your stomach. It's perfect.
That's how it feels with you. We walked to the park, even though you offered me a drive in your hearse. I was secretly hoping to see the inside of your car but it broke down. So we walked, to the nearby park where we're writing our essays.
You peek at me through your eye-lashes and my heart beats faster. I try writing neatly but my hands shaking a little. I can't get over the fact that I'm here with you, of all people.
I want to hear your voice. When I do, I get these butterflies and everything's alive.
"So what do you think of my essay?" you ask gently, leaning back against the trunk of a tree.
"It's good," I mumble, "but you're a bit wordy still. I used a few metaphor which is great but got your pronouns and nouns mixed. Maybe you can try a different approach. This sounds a bit, um, boring and...well maybe you could try to use more of your own opinion. It's honestly great -"
Your lips crash against mine and I feel dazed. You move them against my own lips and put a hand gently around my neck. I'm gasping for air against your plump, soft lips but you don't let me go. My hands wander, wander, until they reach your shoulders. I wrap my fingers around your sweater and tug at the fabric.
Being here with you like this brings out a lot of feelings I didn't know existed.
Now I know.
And it's something that can't be described with a thousand words. That immaculate moment everything's perfect and no one can say it isn't. I can still feel the burning sensation on my skin and it makes my head swim.
When you pull away, you have a goofy grin on your lips and I'm glad. I don't want to see your cocky smirk after what just happened between us. I want this to all be real, not a figment of my imagination.
"You know I like you right?" you wonder out loud, brushing a stray curl across my face.
I feel faint.
"I like you so much I'm willing to kiss you so you won't lecture me on my poor essay writing skills," you smirk but I can tell that your joking.
"Shut up," I laugh, leaning in and closing the distance between us.
I can get used to this.
Just a short little drabble I wrote. :) I have to say, the beginning was based on my own experience with this boy in my English class. :3 that's how we met lol, I feel like I've been dead to fanfiction but it's just my school work. I hope you guys enjoy this, not a huge fan of it though. :D