Tell Me What You See by BeatleLOVE
My hurried footsteps sounded like raindrops as I rushed through the foreign hallways. The first day of school was always hectic.
Finding my destination, I burst through the door seconds before the bell rang. My ankle protested in pain, but I ignored it as I made my way to my seat. Looking around, I caught the eye of what looked to be an Elvis impersonator sitting a couple seats back in the next row. His light brown, almost blonde hair slicked back, leather jacket clumsily draped behind him on his seat. He gave me a wink after looking up and down, and I responded with a look of disgust. Creep.
My eyes continued their journey until they rested on the boy sitting next to me. His callused fingertips showed that he played guitar, like my self, and his hair was slicked back like Elvis-Boy's, yet in a messier and cuter way. It was like he knew he didn't need to try. When he looked up I looked away, embarrassed at my fascination. The teacher stood in front of the white board, waiting.
As he began his cliché first day introduction, I opened my notebook and started to doodle whatever came to mind. Eyes being on of my strongest points, I began sketching some.
I looked up startled, to find Cute-Guitar-Boy leaning toward me and smiling. "What, these?" I managed. How come I always choke around cute guys?
"Yeah, they're really good. I wish I could draw like that, but me talent's in music. Speaking of that, I'm guessing you play guitar?" One of his already high eyebrows shot up even further.
"Now what makes you think that?" I questioned, getting my nerves under control.
"Oh, nothing. Definitely not the chewed-looking pick around your neck, or the guitar earrings you have on. And it's certainly not the 'Music is my everything.' scrawled atop your paper." He grinned at me, feeling witty.
"Great observations, Capt. Obvious," (Engage flirt-mode.) "But you're forgetting the guitar on me shirt, or the sheet music on me bag." Smirking, I hoped that expression wasn't too unflattering.
"Miss..." The teacher glanced at his roll sheet, "...Bates, just because it's the first day of school does not mean that you may socialize in my class. Save it for lunch. Same goes for you, Mr..." another check of the paper, "Mr. McCartney. Don't make separate you on the first day."
"Sorry..." We both replied. Casting me a sideways glance, "Mr. McCartney" whispered, "I'm James, but most call me Paul."
"Me middle name."
"Oh... Mandy. Most call me that."
"Well, hello Miss Mandy," he winked.
I tried to hold back a giggle, and he grinned again. It seemed like the start of a good friendship.