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“Hellooo… Macy? Hellooo?”
I feel a hard knock on the side of my head.
“Owww…” I rub my temple. “Jesus! What did you do that for?” I look across the table at my best friend. But she just smiles.
“Nope, not Jesus, I’m Monica. And you know, instead of drooling all over yourself, you ought to just talk to him.” Taking my hand she pats it, as if soothing a toddler. “Macy… honey… listen.” She says. “You can’t keep staring at him all the time. You’re going to get yourself one of those lovely little pieces of paper commonly known as a Restraining Order.”
I jerk my hand away from hers. “Oh shutup, Monica. I wasn’t staring, and I didn’t drool all over myself.” I say, self-consciously putting my hand to the side of my mouth.
“Or, you know, I’ve heard that people often have their stalkers put in jail. Even mental hospitals. Although, white and orange really aren’t your colors.”
“What?” She asks. “They really aren’t. White drowns you out and orange does NOT match your skin tone, although yellow…”
I tune her out. What does she know? I ask myself. She’s used to every guy within a miles radius sniffing her out like a bloodhound. She doesn’t understand what it’s like.
I look back at my best friend, still talking away as if she doesn’t have a care in the world. She’s beautiful.
And then there’s me. Yeah, I know I’m not just ugly, but I wouldn’t call myself beautiful.
Turning around I look at my reflection in the window next to our table, my brown eyes looking back at me, and turn my head slightly to the side and smile, letting my brown hair fall timidly over my eye.
Nothing. Just Macy Phillips. Plain, boring, smart, and quiet Macy. Not outgoing, fun, talkative, beautiful Monica. She wouldn’t ever understand. I can’t just go up to guys and flirt like her. She makes it look so effortless the way she can go to a guy and five minutes later have him asking her out. My DOG doesn’t even like for me to take him for walks.
Nope. I’m just plain old, quiet Macy.
I turn back to Monica, noticing suddenly how silent it had gotten at our table, and realize that she’s not talking anymore. Instead, staring.
Confused I ask her, “What are you staring at?” But instead of answering my question she just gives me that look, telling me to shutup and turn around. It’s then that I notice I can feel someone standing behind me. That sixth sense we have when we can feel someone looking at us.
Slowly I turn, looking up.
And into the most amazing green eyes. My body instantly dropping about ten degrees as I take him in. His dark, curly hair. His perfect bronze skin. All the way to his one dimpled smile, and the tiny scar on his left eyebrow that I’m always inventing crazy stories about how he got.
And he just stands there, smiling at me, while I’m literally just staring at him. Chris Parker. Lacrosse Team Captain. Class President. Chick magnet. And totally out of my league.
“Hey Macy.” He says.
“Hey.” I choke out, finally remembering to breathe.
Quickly, I look over at Monica. But she just looks back at me and shrugs. Then, I look back up at Chris.
“Ummm…” I stammer. “Can I help you?”
Dipstick! You’re not a store clerk, Mace.
“Yeah actually.” He says, sitting down. And instantly I’m aware of the warmth radiating from his body onto mine. God I’m sick. I should just go ahead and start wearing orange and white just to get used to them. “I was wondering if you would like to have dinner with me tonight? At my house.”
Suddenly, I forget how to breathe again.
“Ummm… sure, that would be great.” I finally say.
“Awesome!” he says. “I was hoping you would.” He winks at me then gets up. “I’ve got to go, but I’ll call you later when I get home.” Then winks at me again and leaves.
I turn to Monica. “What… the heck… was that?” But she just smiles at me and says, “See! You spoke to him.”
Later that night Chris picks me up, and we go over to his house for dinner and a movie. “I like staying in sometimes. You can connect with each other better, you know?”
No, actually, I don’t. “Yeah.”
After dinner (Chris showed me that he’s not only just great at Lacrosse) we’re sitting on his couch, watching a movie when Chris catches me looking at him.
“What?” he asks. “Is there something in my teeth?”
My cheeks suddenly on fire I say, “Oh no, nothing. There isn’t.” I can’t believe he just caught me staring at him. Idiot… idiot… idiot…
Shocked at hearing him say my name, I turn, looking into his eyes. Such a deep green I could drown in their depth. “Yeah Chris?”
“Do you ever wonder what people think about you?” he says. “Like, I know people think I’m some cocky jock who’s just shallow and full of himself.” He looks at me. “You know?”
“Yeah.” I say. “I know what you mean. People just think that I’m just some quiet, nerdy chick you can cheat off of in math class.”
“But you’re not.” He says, looking at me.
And for the first time I truly notice him. Not the Lacrosse Captain, but Chris Parker. The human being.
“Sure.” I say.
He takes my hand. “No, I mean it. You’re not. You’re beautiful.” He says.
Now I stare at him, not caring at all.
And he leans in and kisses me.
I feel a hard knock on the side of my head.
“What?” I snap, and look at Monica. But she just motions behind me.
So, I turn around.
“Hey, Macy? Can I borrow your math homework?”