10. Love me.
Okay. I loved him since the mushroom and pepperoni pizza. Sure I thought about him a lot before that tasteful slice—well more of his body rather—but after that I just think differently about him. Wow, I like Paul Jackson. My rival! The guy who put grape jam in my sneakers and a wet frog down my pants. Was this meant to be?
God that sounded cheesy…
Should I -c-o-n-f-e-s-s--m-y--f-e-e-l-i-n-g-s-?--(cross out) eat that last slice of pizza?
"What are you writing?" Paul grumbled.
He made a move to snatch my biology notebook out of my hands but I tucked it under my butt and dared him to go after it with my awesome glare. It has been two days since my first day of school, and unlike him I actually went every day. The boys only went when they felt like it—when their parents force them to learn something useful to put in their hollow heads—or when they had nothing better to do. He rolled his eyes and grabbed the pizza slice that I was yearning for and ate it in two bites. Ew. At least he looked a little cute, with a bit of tomato sauce at the corner of his mouth.
"Y-you…" I pointed.
"What?" He said through a mouthful of pizza.
Except his mouth was so full it sounded like "wot?"
I rolled my eyes and wiped the sauce off with my thumb. If I had taken a sledge hammer and bashed it against his head he wouldn't look as surprised as he did now when I licked the sauce off my thumb. Slowly he straightened and fixed his eyes on the television.
His home was messy. Actually messy left a decade ago and disaster moved in. His clothes were in the LIVING ROOM. I had to toss one of his shorts over the lamp. Mrs. Jackson isn't known for being a clean freak mother like most mothers—my mom especially—she tries to clean but I think she just gives up. I mean if you saw what a disaster the house looked like you'd turn around and walk right back out the door. I guarantee you will. Well unless you see Paul shirtless on the couch. I know that's what brought me in.
Really, I should be doing my homework, biology I can handle, English is alright, right an essay if you think Romeo is fickle or if he's just a man waiting for the right girl. I chose fickle. I mean come on, ten seconds ago he was crying over how that Rose girl wasn't returning his love and then one look at Juliet he's just like Rosaline who?
But the presence of Paul is one BIG distraction. Must he always be shirtless? True, the seasons changed and the weather is getting colder and I'm still in my shorts and tank top, but Paul is SHIRTLESS. Need I say more?
"Aren't you cold?" I ask casually.
"No." His voice was low but it seemed higher for some reason.
Then I just realized that I had leaned forward to place my hand against his arm and I moved back. Was I flirting with him? What's happening to me?!
He looked at me, just shorts and tank top and asked, "aren't you cold?"
I wasn't, honestly. But now that I have a crush on him—deeper than the time I thought I asked him out on a date—I wanted to do something. Even if I have to act like stupid girl to do it…okay never mind I won't degrade myself to THAT level.
"A bit, not really."
I stared at the TV, scared that if I met his gaze I would turn pink. But I could feel his eyes on me. Sensitively I tucked my feet under me and wrapped my arms around a cushion. I felt his weight shift until he was off the couch, and walked away. I pretended that I hadn't noticed and was fixed with the program on the television.
What happened next was such a blur that I think I shocked us both. I had jumped up and was facing Paul. My head craned due to my lack of height and his huge frame. My eyes were fixed with the plate in his hands. I licked my lips and dug my nails into the pad of my palm. The smell of warm ravioli was so seductive that I almost snatched it out of his hands; I could've taken his hand off with it.
Paul looked at me with amusement. That's right, not annoyance but of amusement. Woohoo! Paul tapped into another emotion! Call the press!
"Umm…" I started.
"Here, I don't have a blanket—a blanket that is clean—and this is the only thing that'll keep you warm."
Gratefully I took the plate of hot ravioli and sat back down on the couch. I looked up to thank him but he spoke before I could.
"Next time just admit that you're cold idiot."
No thank you for you jerk!
In silence I finished the ravioli. And in silence he watched me eat it. The TV was turned off, and I was suddenly VERY aware of Paul. His scent. His legs. His sculpted arms. His hard chest. His drool worthy abs. His cold heart stare that melts my heart. His lips…
"It's getting late; I'll walk you back to Jacob's before he thinks I did something terrible to you."
And with that he packed up my things and walked me to the door. On the way out he grabbed a jacket and tossed it to me. I scrunched up my nose and looked at him.
"Is this clean?"
His look of annoyance was back, but a tint of amusement still lingered. "No, I sweated all over it when I went running. I haven't washed it in WEEKS. You could probably smell the B.O."
"EW!"
I shoved the jacket back at him and he took hold of my hand and smirked. His hands were calloused, rough, and gentle. We were only inches apart.
And yes…I thought he was going to kiss me…
"I'm joking stupid."
And he made me put it on before he walked me back to Jacob's. It was a short walk. And a very silent walk. I think I'm used to his silence; it was more that he was accompanying me than the urge to talk. I liked it like this. Enjoying the presence more than anything else in the world.
At the door he turned to leave but I shouted after him.
"Wait!"
He sighed and turned around, his hands in his khaki pockets, his posture was relaxed. His skin was like russet. So beautiful. That's what he was. Sure he's hot. But he's…
"Umm…"
"Go to sleep Paige. You have school tomorrow."
"Wait! Are you going tomorrow?"
Ag! Why'd I say that?
He shrugged and looked towards the dark woods. The moon had come out and night bugs were flying around, tempted by the glow of light.
"Maybe."
He turned to leave again but I ran after him. My hands found his arms and I wanted so much to hug him. Hug him and never let go. To see him and only him. No other. To smell his woodsy, tree like smell every time he leans in to call me stupid, or idiot, or shorty.
"Paige…" His irritation was evident in his voice and I dared not hug him.
"Y-you're jacket. Don't you want your jacket back?" I made to take it off but he took my hands again.
A little roughly, but I didn't care. His hands were over mine. Time has stopped. My heart was going 180 miles per hour and nothing can stop this racing beat.
"Keep it. For the next time you do something stupid."
And he turned and walked away. The night engulfing him in dark shadows.
Just to let you know that at this part:
Should I -c-o-n-f-e-s-s--m-y--f-e-e-l-i-n-g-s-?--(cross out)
Paige is crossing out what she wrote. But because fanfiction doesn't have the cross out thing in the editor (mine doesn't anyways)I just thought I'd write this down so you won't get confused. Paul is getting softer! I think he's giving into the imprint! Or is it just the pizza? What do you think?