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Word Prompt: Hoop.

Audio-Visual Challenge—Imagined Image

View the image, and write what comes to you.

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Not beta'd.

A tiny smile plays on his lips, as if he hasn't just said the most unexpected and contrary thing. I'm too shocked to do anything but blink.

"Are you ready to go?" he asks.

I nod, my dry throat incapable of speech, and pack up my things. Once my backpack is zipped, he reaches for it and slings it over his shoulder. All he has to do now is pick up my hand and I'll become completely catatonic.

Who is this guy, and where is Masen?

"After you," he says, offering me the right of way.

My first few steps are cautious as I try to shake off the uncertainty. He falls in beside me, altogether unaware of my struggle. The silence of the library is like a shield. I wouldn't know what to say even if talking were allowed.

We get to the foyer, and it's brimming with students. He steers me through the crowd and towards the doors by placing his hand on my lower back. As soon as I feel his touch, it's as though a tidal wave has crashed over me. I can't get my bearings. My heart thumps erratically, echoing hostilely in my ears. Even breathing feels like a chore. He has his own rip current, and it drags me further under each second that we're connected.

He guides me in the direction of his car, the pressure of his palm anchoring us together even though we've exited the library. The fresh air does nothing to clear my dazed brain. I'm following his lead, but I feel lost.

He's opening the passenger door for me, and closing it behind me once I get in. It's such a gentlemanly thing to do. I wish I understood why he bothered. Scratch that. I wish I understood any of what he's doing, because it's all so at odds with the man who thinks having dinner with me is something he shouldn't do. This seems like so much more than a few laughs over a plate of spaghetti and a bottle of wine.

He's the first to break the silence.

"Long day?"

"Endless." And it's far from over.

"Want to talk about it?" His concerned expression makes me feel guilty.

I do want to talk about it, but only if he's going to be honest with me. I'm not sure my heart can take another arcane excuse or humourous redirection today.

"No, thanks. I'm just tired."

"You're sure? You seem kind of… off."

Off is exactly what I am. He doesn't realize that his thoughtfulness, his touch, and his concern are confusing. I'm not looking for a father figure or big brother to take care of me. Besides, a father doesn't look his daughter the way Masen looks at me, and a brother would seemingly be happy to spend time with his sister, as would a friend. So what does he want from me?

"Back home, we had this awesome little coffee shop that made the most delicious baked goods. If I were there, I'd buy two cannoli and a vanilla caramel latte right now. The whipped ricotta and bits of chocolate combined with the sweet coffee would be all the pick-me-up I'd need."

"Sounds delicious. If we're talking indulgent baked goods, I'm going with my grandmother's scones. Especially if they're still warm."

"Why don't you pick something for us to listen to?" I'm hoping his choice will give me some insight about what's going on in his head.

It's another instrumental. I turn up the volume until the music is loud enough to block out everything, even the lingering sensation of his fingertips low on my spine. The piece begins sadly, a deep melancholy underlying every note. It builds into something hopeful and uplifting, filling me with the belief that I could accomplish anything. The end is less certain, undecided and almost flighty, as though the composer couldn't bear to finish, or the conductor stopped directing his musicians. The drive is all but over as the last tones fade.

I still don't know what's going on in his head, but I know now that I've just heard his theme song.

"Thanks for the ride," I say, grabbing my bag and turning toward him. I need our goodbye to be clean and quick.

"You're sure you're okay?"

I nod.

"Because you could tell me, you know that, don't you?"

I nod again, keeping it simple.

"You've got a… do you mind?" He reaches out. His fingers graze my cheek before they thread into my hair, tugging gently.

Not simple.

"Sorry. Your hair was caught in the hoop of your earring. I didn't want it to pull."

"Thanks," I whisper.

I avoid looking at his face, knowing I'll have to endure his intensity. Being close to him is hard enough. My eyes slip closed.

"You'll miss the best things if you keep your eyes shut."

I laugh and, perhaps stupidly, meet his gaze.

He smiles. "What? You're not the only one who can quote Dr. Seuss."

"No, I'm not."

"Go finish your reading, Bella. I'll see you in the morning."

"You'll miss the best things if you keep your eyes shut." ~ Dr. Seuss, I Can Read With My Eyes Shut!

A/N: Thanks everyone for reading.

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