CHAPTER 5: Leave a Tender Moment Alone


By the end of first period, I convinced myself that the hallway staring incident was a strange hallucination born of the fact that I hadn't seen Jared in a while.

Seriously, that was the most rational explanation I could think of. People who didn't know you exist do not stare like he had. The alternative I ruled out too—I didn't have anything on my face. I had checked four times.

After reaching my conclusion, I consumed an entire container of tic-tacs from nervous habit. I knew I should lay off the mints for the sake of penny-pinching but I really needed it at the moment.

I couldn't help but daydream while I walked toward second period, ignoring everyone else in the hall in favor of a delicious mental image of Jared throwing me fiery looks. And now I had something to go on, a stare that, while perhaps a figment of my imagination or aimed at someone else, even if the only thing behind me were lockers, completely melted my insides.

I don't remember much of math. I mechanically took notes but wouldn't be able to say what the chapter was about.

I couldn't wait until English.

The hour seemed to drag until the bell finally put me out of my misery and rang. I had been situated at the edge of my seat, ready to bolt. Mrs. Curry's classroom was two minutes from math. I hoped to make it in one.

As the first one out the door, I dashed down the hall, not even stopping to greet my friend Ayita, who was a year below me but who'd I bonded over music with. She stared at my sprinting form in confusion.

"I'm not crazy," I yelled over my shoulder. That only caused her to look more bewildered. I didn't care; a strange feeling had overtaken me and I needed to get to English.

I made it in a minute and a half, breathing a little too heavily for such a short sprint. I was thankful that the school didn't have a lot of people going in my direction; it left my path unhindered for the most part. Now only if I actually listened to my mental exercise schedule—next time, I might actually make the run in a minute.

I caught my breath outside the classroom, noting that it had taken me almost three minutes since I had to re-capture some damn oxygen. Stupid lungs. I could have just walked.

I was staring at the floor, mostly because my face was red and I didn't want to display that fact to my peers. When I was finally composed, I made a sharp turn to enter the classroom, looking around at the same time with bated wonder.

Not the brightest idea.

The term look before you leap comes to mind in a much more literal sense.

I barreled straight into the wall.

Wait, no. That wasn't right.

Walls don't wear shirts.

Do they?

No, I don't believe they do.

Wow, am I glad there's not a mind reader around to trace the path of my very intelligent thoughts.

"Kim!"

Another fact: walls definitely don't talk.

Therefore, I did not hit a wall.

Bu people wear shirts and talk. Jared Cameron talks, has a chest like a wall—that will be featured in my risqué dreams—and wears a shirt. The last one is really too bad. From the feel of it, he is ripped. I've never even touched a boy, let alone a muscular one. But it doesn't take a genius to figure out that underneath that thin material is a bunch of muscly steel. I am inadvertently feeling Jared's muscly chest. I might actually pass out. I can feel another epic brain fail beginning.

Wait—auditory senses picking up a strange sound…did Jared say my name?

"Kim! Are you okay? Did I hurt you? I didn't mean to bump into you like that. Oh god, please answer me! Do you want to go to the nurse? Kim? Kim?"

I hear you, I wanted to tell him; instead, I stared dumbly in shock.

My nerve endings detected a foreign presence touching my arm. It felt like a heating pad. Is he touching me?

I needed to react. Please, my beloved body, don't fail me again! Do something, anything!

I willed myself to respond, pushing the words through. "F-fine," I breathed out louder than what an inside voice should be, but I suppose beggars can't be choosers.

Hyperventilating would not be a good look but I was receiving way too much stimulation for a one-day period. My heart was beating rapidly, out of control, and I knew my face must be doing its best to showcase a dark red color.

Jared really needed to moderate addressing or staring at me to once a day until I could properly handle it.

I noted that I was still staring at his rather large chest, standing merely an inch away from it in fact, and I jumped back. I also processed that his hands were lightly grazing my arms in a gentle way but they dropped down when I moved.

I felt the loss of contact immediately, and cursed my stupidity for moving and ruining the most amazing physical contact I've ever experienced. Damn myself! Fuck my life! But at least my heart was starting to slow, my blood not rushing in my ears so much as flowing steadily.

He looked at me like I was a scared animal. Not that far from the truth. If far at all.

"I'm fine," I repeated, figuring that was a safe phrase. I knew I was capable of those words.

"Oh, thank god," he said, sounding so genuinely relieved that I looked to his face instead of dumbly at his chest region. And wow. Knowing from a distance that my crush got taller and wider and larger, and then standing directly in front of him to see and feel it, were two totally different things. The reality was so much more intense. Jared was enormous, the kind of big that a professional basketball player who did The Arnold on the side might look like.

Abort! Staring made me a thousand times more likely to pull a romance novel move and faint dead away.

New plan to avoid fluttering and spluttering like a fool: focus on the real wall, recite the alphabet, and try to sound coherent if not intelligent.

Instigating this plan, I focused on a chipped piece of paint adjacent to Jared's figure. "I'm sorry for bumping into you," I managed to say. Whoa, totally proud of myself. I actually got out an entire sentence. And it was coherent.

"No!" he protested in such a vehement voice that my eyes were forced back to gazing at him. I flicked them back to the imperfect wall, my heart slamming in my chest again in a way that had to be bad for me. "It was my fault. I just came outside to look for you," he admitted, with a rather cute—

Wait, hold up, what? He was looking for me?

"Why?" escaped my mouth and I gave up on my plan. It worked while it had lasted but I wanted to see Jared, talking to me, with my own eyes. Later, when I was alone in my own bed, I wanted to replay this moment in my mind with one hundred percent accuracy. Screw my heart health and complexion. He couldn't hear how he affected me and my skin hid the worst of the redness.

"I don't know," Jared said, seeming to be discomforted by my question. Weird. I wanted to prod the answer out of him but (a) didn't have the guts or (b) inclination to make him feel awkward for chatting with me. Who knows, maybe he'd actually do it again if I didn't screw the whole thing up.

"Right," I murmured, for lack of anything else to add.

"Jared and Kim, please come take your seats," Mrs. Curry called from inside her classroom. I blinked, wondering how I had missed the bell ringing.

"Sure, Mrs. C," Jared replied, turning around after another moment of his unwavering stare and I followed him, unsettled.

Taking my seat, I kept my head down. There was so much to process. I was overwhelmed—and decided to simply master breathing in and out, and think about the situation one fact at a time.

Fact one: we had talked.

Fact two: to each other.

Fact three: it was amazing.

His voice was beautiful; deep and resonate. I could stand, or sit, or crawl, or anything, while listening to it all day.

"Mrs. Curry?" And there it was again. I peaked upward through my eyelashes and saw Jared raising his hand politely.

Mrs. Curry was writing a quote on the board and turned around when she heard Jared call her name. "Yes, Mr. Cameron?" she pursed her lips, clearly annoyed at the interruption.

"Didn't you say that we would be allowed to switch seats after you learned all our names? Like, three months ago?" he asked, his question unexpected to everyone in the room. I vaguely recalled Mrs. Curry stating that but no one had followed her up about it. Until now, I guess.

A few others were murmuring their agreement in hearing her make that promise. She crossed her arms and turned a stern stare on Jared. "That's right. But I thought everyone was comfortable sitting in their assigned seats. Does anyone wish to move?" Most of the room rose their hands before she even finished her sentence.

Mrs. Curry could do nothing but concede. "Fine," she huffed, "you have one minute to find another seat."

My heart sank. I assumed that Jared would want to sit next to his others friends or Danielle and would probably end of leaving my field of vision. Ogling him from across the room was a tad more obvious than looking forward.

Everyone jumped up at once, seeking a spot by a friend or closer to front/back, whichever their preference. I wanted to sit up front but found I had no desire to get up and go to the trouble of moving, so I leaned my head on the palm of my hand to wait for the whole thing to be over, closing my eyes.

A minute later, I heard: "Everyone find a new seat? Good enough for you, Mr. Cameron? Lovely," she continued without waiting for a response, "now we can actually commence with the reason we are all gathered here—to learn."

Really? Was that why we were in this government institution? I couldn't have figured that one out. Mrs. Curry was always stating the obvious, which was an unusual for someone who had an abiding love of poetry. Poetry had to be the least obvious set of words strung together. Opposites attract, maybe?

My thoughts caused me to snicker lowly in amusement.

"What's so funny, Kim?" a certain voice whispered to me, directly to my left.

No. Way.

My head turned. Confirmed.

Oh my god, Jared was sitting next to me! "You've got to stop doing that," I actually said. Yes, me, Kim Wilson, finally replied to a comment from Jared in a timely interval. That made me rather proud. I was making such fast progress.

"Doing what?" he asked, with an enigmatic smile on his face.

Since I was pondering his expression, I wasn't concentrating on my words and was therefore coherent. "Scaring me," I said, twisting my body so I was situated sideways on my desk chair. I was facing him, ready to absorb as much conversation with him as possible. Dare or prank or whatever this was—I would take what I could get. Especially now that my brain to mouth neural pathways were working and my heart, while still faster than normal, didn't make me feel like I'd have kneel over.

For some reason, Jared looked pained after my response. "I scare you?"

I hastened to assure him. "It's mostly my fault," I said, "I don't look up sometimes or I tune out of my surroundings. So I get startled at loud noises. My fault."

"Well, I'm sorry to have frightened you," he apologized again, looking truly forlorn, and it made me feel bad for being such a jumpy wuss and causing him guilt.

I smiled, trying to convince him wordlessly to let it go. "Don't worry about it."

And just like that, he relaxed. His shoulders leveled out and his body scooted down casually in his seat. I was giddy; my reassurance seemed to have worked.

"So," he said again after a few seconds passed, lowering his voice when Mrs. Curry glowered at him momentarily before she averted her own eyes like she couldn't believe this hulking man was her student. He continued, "You never told me what was so funny."

I was just going to blow his question off with a stammer of 'nothing' but he appeared so enthralled and looked like he hinged on my answer. I was speechless for a second. I couldn't believe this was happening.

Knowing I would probably sound stupid, I decided that it didn't matter. He wanted to know why I laughed, and I would explain it to him. Probably causing him to regret asking but that was a risk I'd take.

"When Mrs. Curry made that comment about us being here to, uh, learn, I sorta thought…" wow, my thoughts were really lame when spoken aloud, and I paused in growing embarrassment. Jared nodded at me in encouragement, though, so I continued: "duh, it's only been drilled into us like mindless sheep since kindergarten. I think we more than anyone have noticed the reason they lock us in this government facility is to quote on quote learn, and she made such an obvious statement," I was caught up in my mini-rant and actually made air quotes, and immediately wanted to die of mortification, but pressed on. "And we're learning about poetry, which is the least obvious and straightforward type of writing and learning, like ever. I just thought it was funny that Mrs. Curry likes poetry so much," I rushed out, picking at a spot on my desk with great concentration. Until I heard Jared let out his own snicker. I was instantly filled with happiness; I entertained my crush! In a good way, too. He found me humorous.

I let my gaze drift back toward him. "I didn't know you were such a study of character," he said with a grin, looking way more fascinated by this fact than the situation called for.

I puzzled over what that meant. "There's a lot you don't know about me," I said, and felt amazed at my gall. But seriously—I might be in like and obsessed with the guy, but we've never talked and this is the most he has ever paid attention to me.

I didn't think my reply was such a huge deal, it was the truth, yet his face fell. I instantly opened my mouth to take back what I'd said, hell, tell him anything to get that grin back on his face, but he spoke first.

"Kim," he said, his tone low and serious. "I can't express how sorry I am for ignoring you all these years. I hate myself for it and I will do my best to remedy this. Could we maybe start over?"

Sorry? Hate? Remedy? Start over? Was he kidding? "Yeah—yes, of course, sure," I spluttered.

Keeping the same tone and mien, he said, "I'm Jared Cameron."

What?

Oh, he meant start over literally. That's cool with me. Thankfully he didn't stick out his hand to shake, I would've had to be wheeled out on a stretcher if he'd initiated more physical contact. "Kim W-Wilson," I shyly replied.

"Great to meet you, Kim," he beamed, like he'd finished a marathon or won a million dollars. "I have a feeling we're going to get along."

I didn't have anything else to top that, and nodded stupidly.

Mrs. Curry must have caught some of our exchange and lightly scolded us to pay attention. Her tone and overall treatment was much more lax, and she kept sending Jared a look that would be more appropriate for an equal. Another oddity to ponder at a later time.

I turned back to facing forward. If I died right this instant, I would do so happy and with a blissful smile.

The end of class came and I waited to see if Jared would do anything but Danielle engaged him immediately in a private conversation so I left. I shouldn't be disappointed; I already had talked to Jared more today than I ever had in my life. But the odd thing was, the more I spoke to him, the more I wanted to and felt bereft when I wasn't.

Which was only going to lead to disappointment. It was Friday and I had no more classes with him, not even lunch.

I trudged with a disheartened sigh to the remainder of my classes, thinking only of his enormous smile and how I could produce it again.