Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
“Luci!” Nick calls after me and I turn around, walking backwards as I shout back to him.
“I’m sorry. Some other time,” I hurry off down the hall in the direction he was standing, but run into Chloe instead.
“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” She’s anxious to get home, to get out of school, but I want to stay. To find him and ask what that was all about.
“Never mind,” I shake my head, sighing loudly. She grabs my arm as we head to the exit.
AFTER SCHOOL
The next morning I get up unusually early. While I put on my typical pair of jeans, my shirt is a little tighter than I would normally wear. I’m a little embarrassed by it, but I don’t change and grab a sweater instead.
I don’t know what Mr. Harrington’s interest in Nick was all about yesterday, but I’m pretending it means something. All night, whenever I closed my eyes, all I saw was his wink. It’s the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever witnessed, and what provokes me to wear my tight shirt today. I even pack a hairbrush in my book bag so I can keep my hair down after gym.
I let my mind wander all morning, as I get ready, and then as I drive to pick up Chloe.
What if he really does like me too?
All the staring and glaring, the small moments, the semi-flirty conversations… It’s possible, isn’t it?
I realize we could never actually do anything, so I don’t know what I hope to accomplish in trying to all of a sudden look better today, or why I want to impress him, but I do.
I’m not delusional.
I know my silly little crush will lead me nowhere.
It’s not like I can ask him to sit in the lunchroom with me, or date me. We’ll never kiss by my locker, go to prom, or fall madly in love.
I’m aware how unreal this is.
How this is all just me hoping for a miracle, because he probably doesn’t feel anything towards me, other than I’m his student.
But that’s okay.
The idea alone makes me feel alive. I want to soak in each day and bask in its glory. My crush is different than anything I’ve felt before, wrong and yet so amazingly right.
“Who’s Mr. Harrington?” Gracie asks as we wait outside Chloe’s house.
“Huh?” I play coy.
“You practically moaned his name in your sleep last night,” she laughs.
“I did not!” I’m sure I’m turning red.
“You so did!” She shouts. “I was on my way to the bathroom at like 1am and I heard it, loud and clear.”
“Shut up,” I say, just as Chloe opens the passenger’s side door.
“You’re so early, Luci,” Chloe groans, fumbling with her seatbelt.
I back out of her driveway as she pulls the visor down and starts putting on her makeup. I watch her out of the corner of my eye. I never wear makeup, ever. Little do they know, I have blush and mascara in my backpack for later.
So stupid!
“She woke me up early too, Chloe,” Gracie sighs, betraying me.
“Well, I have to finish this math thing before class and I need to ask Mrs. Stalling something,” I lie.
“Why didn’t you ask her yesterday when you stayed after school and made me take the bus?” Gracie pouts.
I ignore her as I pull into my parking space at school.
“Hey, I just noticed - your hair’s down,” Chloe shrieks. “It looks awesome!”
“Thanks,” I mumble, shutting the car off. “Guess I better get to math before everyone else does.”
I stop at my locker briefly before taking the long way to the basement, allowing me to walk down the hallway in which Mr. Harrington’s classroom sits at the very end.
I just want to see how early he gets here.
My heart races as I turn the corner, already anticipating seeing him, of getting to catch an additional glimpse this early in the day. I drop my book bag on the floor, letting the loud echo bounce off the empty halls of MTHS. His door is closed and the lights are out. I’m too early. I start arguing with myself over how pathetic this is and I don’t hear the footsteps.
“Luci?” I jump when he says my name, his smooth, deep voice extra raspy in the early morning. I close my eyes, imagining how his tongue sits between his teeth as he makes the “L” sound. “Are you okay?”
I brace myself before turning around.
He’s in a peacoat, his hair so freshly gelled that it looks almost black. He’s flushed and his eyes are watery, probably from the outside cold. He bends down, slinging his own bag higher over his shoulder as he picks up mine.
“Yeah?” I let out a breathy sigh and he smiles. “Thanks,” I smile back as he hands me my bag. Our fingers touch and we both pull back from the shock - literally.