"Notes" by Amber Mosby

[Ceri Shaw]

He looked at me and my heart didn't stop the way the stories always said it would. It raced, like it was trying to get out of my chest and closer to him. He was just standing there watching me and it began to race. I found it hard to breath and then my body began to overheat. All the blood rushed to my head and my face was so hot. I raised my hands to my cheeks hoping to cool them but my heart just kept racing. When he opened his mouth to actually speak to me, I turned away. If just a look could cause such an effect, imagine what actual words might do. He fell silent, slightly stunned by my rude behavior. I never meant to upset him but I was so caught off guard by the heat that I needed water. So I reached into my bag and when I could breathe again, I faced him. He wasn't looking my way now and I was convinced that I had lost my chance to ask him how his heart felt. If it wasn't racing like mine I was just going to have to end my life. No way could I go on with my heart beating normally inside my chest. It had to race. I needed it to race.

He spoke my name, I remember him speaking my name and then having to repeat himself because once again I couldn't speak. I was suddenly very angry because I couldn't get my mouth to work. It was so frustrating. He must have sensed somehow what I was going through because he paused, and then waited. After a moment he gave me a small but encouraging smile. It was then that I began to resent him. The fact that he knew my shame and even went so far as to acknowledge it with his smile enraged me. It was because of this rage that my eyes narrowed unforgivably and my mouth tightened. I snapped out a greeting that was both rude and inviting at once. I saw him stiffen and regretted my actions almost immediately. He wondered if he could borrow my notes. I felt my anger rise again. Somehow I knew he realized that he had given me false hope by coming to my little corner of the world and smiling at me. Nobody just smiles like that. I reach for the notes with half numb fingers and hand them to him without even glancing up. I wanted him to realize that he was being punished. I don't think he got the message. From the corner of my eye I watched him walk over to his friends and wave the notes at them. Now I was responsible for all their grades. As a whole they turned to where I was sitting. I lowered my eyes back to my textbook sending the clear message that I was not to be disturbed and that's when I heard that bitch giggle. I felt my lips pull back in a snarl and it was all I could do not to scream aloud. Instead, I gather my things together and head towards the exit. Unfortunately to reach the exit, I would have to pass the table that was home to the ridiculous giggle from my nightmares. She never does seem to stop giggling at him, or smiling at him, or touching him for the world to see. I hold my breath and keep my eyes straight ahead as I pass him. I was almost home free when I felt him grab my arm. He's telling me to hold up a sec. The shock of his bare hand on my skin stuns me into submission. Slowly I release my pent up breath, then I lower my eyes to the hand that is touching me. It has a dusting of freckles as well as little blond hairs across the knuckles. His golden brown skin looks soft. I want to touch it of course but I wouldn't dare. My eyes travel up, up the sleeve of his navy blue and gray stripped rugby shirt, to his full pink lips that were forming the words come sit with us. I couldn't bring myself to look into his eyes. If I did that, I knew I would be lost. The group of people at the table have gone silent as they wait for my answer. No more giggles, only smug smiles and looks of pity because they all knew. They knew just what the sound of his voice alone was doing to me. I am so very tempted to give in. Squaring my shoulders, I stared at his hand until he let go of my arm, then gave a terse shake of my head and moved on. He could have no idea of how hard it was for me but I do it and I manage to do it without looking back. I'll be nobody's joke, not now not ever.

As I finally reach the exit, I hear the giggle again and cringe. During the long walk home my mind is filled with all the witty things I should have said. I should have made him see how little he matters, how little they all matter, but I've never been much of a liar. As I walk up the stairs to my room, all I can hear is that bitch giggling. H always smiles at her when she giggles at him, or for him, whichever pets do best. My mother will come soon and ask me how my day was and I'll tip toe around my infatuation and the fact that my arms is still tingling where he touched me. She already knows all about him, has known since the day he happened to walk me home. I won't tell her his name, I rarely even say his name to myself. I hate him for what he makes me feel but I wouldn't stop it, even if that was an option. I go back to the studying that I couldn't finish at the library.

Much later I hear the doorbell ring and then my mother calling my name. Apparently I have a visitor. I open the front door to find him standing there, holding a cupcake. You're at the wrong house I wanted to shout, but he was smiling right at me. Golden yellow eyes stared into golden brown and I found myself gripping the door sill for balance. He had come to return my notes and brought me the cupcake as a way of saying thanks. You remembered where I live was my response, of course he said in turn. He holds the cupcake up to me, no longer smiling. Share it with me, I say suddenly, and then want to bite off my tongue for my impulsiveness. He's nodding his head and stepping towards me. I'm backing into the house and now he's following me inside. Now that he's actually here I don't know what to do with myself. I want to pull him close and smell his cologne. I want to take his picture while he's still smiling at me. I want to run my fingers through his hair right before I kiss his lips. I want a great many things, but instead I lead him to the kitchen where I cut the cupcake in half and hand him a piece. He finishes his in one bite, humming a little as he swallows. I eat mine a little more slowly, staring at him all the while. He's watching me lick frosting off my fingers and when I look up, he's standing very close to me. He wants to know if I liked the cupcake. I can only nod yes as I finally get a whiff of his cologne. I feel my eyes slide close and hope that he doesn't notice but he does, because he's watching me so intensely. What are you doing here I manage to say and he mumbles something about my notes. His hands go around my waist and he yanks me close, holding me tight against him. My hands slide up his arms and come to rest on his shoulders. I stare up at him and nod my head, then his lips descend upon mine and everything is right. He tastes like chocolate frosting and his lips are so soft that mine glide across. I rub them back and forth, imprinting them to memory. He makes a sound of satisfaction, as if he has been waiting all day for this. I am pleased, inexplicably pleased. I've been waiting too. I trace my tongue along the seem of his lips, then he opens his mouth and I am tasting him fully. His arms wrap completely around me as I slide my fingers into his hair. It's just as soft as I remembered, just as soft as the day he walked me home and stole the first kiss on my porch steps. It is a secret that I have kept for twelve days, six hours, twenty-two minutes, and so many seconds. One of the biggest secrets of my life because in this town, a kiss between a girl with skin as brown as mine and a boy with hair as blond as his is not just frowned upon, it's unheard of. His tongue slips past my lips and I feel my knees go weak. What is it about this boy? This boy that made me want to risk everything I knew just so he would smile at me. It made no sense. I had thought about it from every angle and had come no closer to understanding why it was this boy that made me feel what I felt. He was biting my bottom lip, pulling my attention back to the here and now. A small moan escaped me. Spurred on by that noise, he walks me backwards until I am pressed up against the kitchen wall. He lifts my arms above my head and pins me there with his own body. I can feel him, full against me, so I rub against him just a little. His body goes stiff and he tears his mouth away from mine. He stares down at me. Eyes wide, nostrils flared and now I'm afraid I've gone too far. My chest rises and falls as I try to catch my breath and his eyes lower to my breasts. With my arms above my head my t-shirt is pulled tight and they are clearly defined. As he stares I feel my nipples tighten. He lets my arms go and traces one nipple with his thumb, back and forth until I want to scream. Suddenly a shudder rolls through him and he turns away. I open my mouth to speak, but what is there to say? It was wrong and we both knew it. I stare at his back while he pulls himself together. He's looking over his shoulder at me now and I find myself unable to meet his eye. He's saying my name, I love it when he says my name...I love it when he says my name, then he says he has to go. My head snaps up. He's smiling that smile and I feel used, just like last time. Without another word I walk past him and open the front door. He follows slowly, calling goodbye to my mother. When he reaches me he stops, his hand is lifted to touch my face but I turn away. I hear him sigh and then he walks away. I know for a fact that he lives three blocks away. I followed him once. I closed the door quietly, grabbed my notes off the kitchen counter and booked it to my room. Once again I feel despair close over me, once again I wonder why me. Why does he tease me so? The sun sets and my heart grows as dark as the night.

I wake up the next morning and wonder if I have the courage to show up to school. The campus is large and it is possible that I can avoid him but somehow I know that he will find someway to see me, he does that to me. He knows that were anyone to notice his reputation would be in tatters but he always takes the risk. I'm sure he has his friends convinced it is only so he can keep borrowing my notes. He never asks for my notes when we're alone. The exam is today so I know that I have to but it doesn't make it any easier. I am afraid, afraid of what those golden eyes will do to me if I let them. I dress with care. It's as if my mind is thinking by itself. I have no need to impress him and yet I want him yo know that I am not some secret to be shoved into the dark. Just for spite I even put on make-up. My mother gives me a look as I'm leaving and I wink at her. I can be care-free and flirty to.

The science exam takes up a large part of my morning and I am at my locker getting my lunch when my lab partner shows up. He wants to know how I think I did and then he tells me that I look really pretty today, I stare at him and wait for him to laugh but he is very serious. He likes my hair most of all. I can't help smiling at him because I didn't do anything to it, just brushed it out. Now he's making a joke about our professor and I'm laughing with him, actually laughing. I even go so far as to put my hand on his shoulder and now he's really smiling. A moment passes and I see his eyes go round and then he scurries away with a quick excuse me. I look over my shoulder to see what's wrong and he's standing there. He expression is so fierce that I take a step back. He takes a step closer and I blurt out that he can't have my notes. His eyes are all over me at once and I start to feel shabby, like maybe my jeans are too tight, or maybe my tank top is too low. His eyes linger on my lips and I almost wipe away the gloss that I applied just ten minutes ago. I don't want your notes he says at last. Everyone has stopped to stare at us now. Doesn't he notice all the people looking? I don't want your notes, he says again. Well then what do you want I say with a burst of bravado. He leans down and kisses my cheek. Then he takes my hand and walks me to my next class.

by Amber Mosby