Chapter Eight

Gabby's POV

Going to my sister for advice had been the biggest mistake. The way she'd joked around about it at first; hadn't she grown out of that? Even I wouldn't have treated the situation like that. …Probably. But the point is, I'm me. She's the prim and proper little angel sent from above. I guess being spoiled just turned her into a COMPLETE brat. Charming. When we were little, I would've gotten all pouty but then giggled along with her in the event she made a game out of a serious topic. Well guess what: we're not little anymore. We're high schoolers, and this is the time in our lives when we could meet our future husbands for God's sake. Besides: nowadays, I'm not often serious, so when I am, that shit should be taken, well, seriously.

Okay, maybe I'm not giving her enough credit. She did stop being an immature little pest at one point… …Nah, I'm giving her the exact amount of credit she deserves. "Be yourself," she'd said. I was a bossy, airheaded, untalented, annoying, perfection-striving/deprived little weirdo who probably would be diagnosed with depression, bipolarism, ADD, and/or OCD if I was tested. "Keep the conversation going." Could I do that? Yeah. I mean, I usually encounter awkward silences in long conversations, but I can probably count on one hand the amount of times I've left a chat hanging then fading altogether at that. I'm talkative; too talkative. Shutting up was NEVER an option for me, which was a hit-or-miss sort of thing. Sometimes, I say just the right thing and spark a lot of laughs, insiders, or just plain an effective conversation. Others, I run out of topics to bring up, and with my inability to shut my trap, resort to speaking whatever pops into my mind and making everything really awkward. Yeah, I just keep on smiling and acting like it was something totally normal to say… but that just makes everything 20 times worse for me and my reputation.

Caliegh said this would get a hot Danish guy to like me? Yeah, I think not.

The day after my sister'd tried to give me advice, I groggily awoke from a dream. The dream had been about- surprise!- Mathias. He'd proposed marriage to me with a Ring-Pop, and at the time, it had been the best thing ever. But now that my mind was gradually unfogging and the world was coming into focus (well, kind of; I was on the verge of blind without my glasses on), I was glad it was over. You can only escape reality for so long.

And what a way reality has of assuring you of its presence. I groped the windowsill for my glasses, clamping my eyes shut to escape the blurriness and only reopening them when my lazily unfolded spectacles were placed lopsided on my face. Maybe just a few more minutes of sleep wouldn't hurt… Just to make sure, I heaved myself into a sitting position, only to lean down onto my elbow once I was facing my side table.

10:00 in the morning.

Why the hell hadn't Caliegh woken me up?! As I frantically scrambled out of bed, taking a couple of my three blankets with me, I noticed that the princess was nowhere to be found and her bed was all neatly made. Good riddance. I still wasn't awake enough to spurt the colorful array of words that had jumped into my throat for her, even though the whole realization that I had slept in about 5 hours had sent quite a jolt of unwanted adrenaline through my veins.

…..Then I realized it was Saturday. So I let my shoulders droop, took a deep breath, and proceeded with my morning routine of washing my face, brushing my hair and teeth, changing into my weekend clothes (just an Angry Birds t-shirt, a pair of jeans with rips in the thighs and shins, and some old Converse shows), and applying a combination of 3 different perfumes. A quick glance in the mirror revealed that I hadn't blow dried my hair thoroughly enough the night before, leaving it look like total crap, so I had to throw it into a simple messy ponytail.

Good. Just how I like it.

I managed to make due with a couple granola bars for breakfast, and decided to occupy myself with a walk around campus. Yes, I could have hung out with Alfred or one of my other friends. Yes, I could have gone with Feliciano- an Italian in my Music class- to meet his brother, like he'd invited me to eventually do. Yes, I could have spied on the really cute, really popular/feared, really dickish Turkish guy from my Literature class. Yes, I could have made up for all the years I'd gone without bugging my sister. But… I simply didn't feel like dealing with people. Is that a symptom of being lovesick? I couldn't help but wonder.

There wasn't really a particular destination I had in mind; I was simply wandering. For a while, it was pretty refreshing, having my mind absent of any burdens or worries for a while. I'd done all my homework, my grades were still doing okay, and best of all, my sister was out of sight, out of mind. I was calmly imagining a scenario for a later chapter of one of the fan fictions I was working on; right as I was starting to form the mental movie into words to type up or write down later, my little wall of blissful ignorance crumbled to the ground with an earthshaking crash.

I hadn't acknowledged I'd drifted into the garden until now. Really, it was a miracle I hadn't bumped into something at that point. But my lack of navigation skills was the least of my problems. See, in the very dead center of the garden, just past a maze of hedges and shrubs, is a decent sized pond that's probably about 6 feet deep toward the middle. There are lots of shady little spots and picnic tables on its shores, and I tried to discard all the happy little couples sucking face there. Besides, they and everything around them were erased from my peripheral vision, as if I had blinders on; all I could see was Mathias, atop a medium sized step ladder, angled away from me, completely shirtless.

I really hope staring didn't make me a pervert, because God, I couldn't unglue my eyes from him. He was trimming some unruly upper branches of one of the tallest shrubs- for his whole community service thing, no doubt- and it was obvious that he'd been assigned the job due to the fact that even with a ladder, it'd take someone of his massive height to manage. He still had to reach up some, though, and his skin stretched tight to reveal his ribs. However, he wasn't exactly skinny: on the contrary, he was pretty buff. Even from where I stood, I could see the bulge of the muscles in his biceps; how perfectly toned his calves were beneath the bottom of his shorts' legs; that his abs formed a perfect six pack; the beads of sweat trickling down from his forehead as he strained to snip away every stray leaf and branch….

Okay, someone seriously needs to lock me up and throw away the key.

I heard Mathias loudly grumble something in Danish- probably a cuss word- before he tossed his pair of hedge clippers onto the ground below him and huffily climbing down the ladder. He grabbed a t-shirt that had been draped over the top rung, and I admit that I'm pretty ashamed that my first thought was: "Please don't put that back on…!" To my nasty relief, he just used it to wipe at his brow then slung it over his shoulder.

"Workin' hard, 'Thias?" I called before I subconsciously allowed myself to, having no idea when I'd started walking toward him. I'll tell you right now, nothing is funnier than a tough-looking guy jumping nearly a foot in the air and shrieking like a little girl.

"Damn it Gabby, don't scare me like that!"

I'll never, ever forget what happened next. In fact, I'll probably be telling my grandchildren this following story.

There was a grin on Mathias's face, so I know that when he shoved me, it was playfully. Nevertheless, he obviously doesn't know his own strength, and even though I sure as hell ain't a little girl, I'm wimpy as hell. So that little push he gave me was enough to send my already jelly-legged self stumbling back a bit, until my heel banged against a nearby log.

It all seemed to happen in slow motion. I think I was still grinning from sneaking up on Mathias, even though pain abruptly ricocheted across the back of my foot. I know for a fact that an airy smile was still on Mathias's face, probably because he figured I'd catch myself before I fell. Well, I guess he didn't realize I was the biggest clutz on this planet, because before I knew it my arms were flailing in a pathetic attempt to balance myself, to no avail: within seconds (though it felt like dragging minutes), I was falling ass-first into the shallow end of the pond.

The water- soaking me from beneath, splashing up then down upon me from above- seemed to trigger time into progressing normally again. I was no longer smiling, and some form of curse word most likely left my mouth as my wrists instantaneously felt as if they were sprained. Mathias had clamped his hand over his mouth, so I don't know exactly what his expression was: just that he was sprinting forward, jumping over the log I'd tripped over and sending a whole new series of pond water splashing all over me.

"Oh my God, I swear I didn't mean to do that!" Mathias exclaimed, grabbing my hand and yanking me to my feet. Water droplets on my glasses lenses completely obscured my vision, giving the world this weird distorted look. But I could still see well enough to tell that one of my best friends was looking worthy of being on the cover of a male modeling magazine less than a foot away from me.

"I can hear you laughing, douchebag," I half growled, half cried, half giggled in response. Mathias snickered loudly.

"Sorry, but you just looked so smooth."

"Says the one who pushed me. I can report you for peer abuse, you know," I warned, unable to keep the joking out of my tone.

I could see Mathias grin through my indistinct vision. "Hey, be my guest. I humbly accept any punishment they'll have for me." If I'm not mistaken, his smile suddenly slipped into a smirk. His hands were no longer around my slightly throbbing wrist: they had made their way around my waist.

My breath immediately caught in my throat. The last time I'd been this close to a guy (except for hugging one of my male relatives or few guy friends) had been in sixth grade, when my friends dared me to slow dance with my crush, then with a bunch of total losers. That whole experience had been a jumbled mess of embarrassment, pressure, and newly budding hormones; this, however, was… different. Mathias's fingertips seemed to emanate a warmth that seeped through my damp shirt, even penetrating my skin until it hit my ribs, yet sending shivers throughout my whole body. I think I had begun to shake, and not because I'd gone from the stale air of an unnaturally warm autumn day to water that was probably no more than 55 degrees.

"What're you doing…" I managed to choke out.

"Saving you," Mathias murmured mischievously. Or was it… seductively?

I'd noted back when we'd first officially become friends that when you got close enough to Mathias, you could easily detect the scent of beer on him. I hated it- I'd never even touch the stuff, I despised the smell so much- but right now, it was actually pleasant; sweet, as opposed to repulsive. I pressed my hands against his chest to push myself away from him (I mean, people had to be staring at this point), but froze as I felt his heartbeat beneath my palm. I suddenly wanted to know more about him than I already did. I wanted to know everything about Mathias Køhler that there was to know, and I wanted him to feel the same way about me. I yearned for him to pull me closer, invite me to make memories with him that I couldn't make with someone that was just a friend…

"Will you go out with me?"

For one heart stopping moment, my world froze as I believed those words to have left Mathias's lips. Then reality showed its ugly self once more, and I realized that would never happen.

But that's when I made a realization that was a thousand times more terrifying.

Mathias hadn't whispered that inquiry; I had.

Shit.