Kissing Prince Charming

He asks about love ♥

I find Ross casually leaning against the door to room 303B.

It’s funny how easily your mind forgets something so insignificant like a room or a memory. You would think my subconscious would hold onto the first moment I met him, no matter how long ago it was, but it hasn't.

My old memory of Ross is clouded by better, newer ones, and when I see the number by the door an odd smile spreads across my face. Ross still hasn’t noticed me yet and I thank all of heaven he can't see the look on my face.

All his attention is on the cell phone in his hand.

I slow down my pace as I watch him frown down at the device. I don’t even think he is really looking at it. Either he just got off the phone and the call bothered him or he was expecting a future depressing call.

I clear my throat to get his attention and when he jerks his head up and see’s it’s me, the frown turns into a slight smile. Pushing the phone into his pocket, he crosses his arms lightly over his chest.

“You’re late.”

I sigh and pull my bag off my shoulder. Sitting it on the ground, I start to trifle through the mess while at the same time explaining why, exactly, I have kept him waiting.

“I know, I know. But I had posted boards to paint and I got caught up in something. It’s been a long hour of drawing stupid hornets and even more insignificant football players. One more inspirational motto I am just going to switch schools.”

I pull out a whole bunch of random papers and curse myself for not being more organized. Ross walks over and all I see are his combat boots as he kneels down in front of me.

“Already threatening to change schools? After all my hard work at tutoring you?” He teases lightly and I grunt in response. Papers I don't need go flying everywhere as I frantically try to look for the worksheet Ross gave me yesterday.

The last time I saw it I was sitting on my bed. For all I know, it could still be there. I probably in that moment was too busy worrying about boys then my actual work.

On the verge of sudden hysteria, I lift my bag and am about to dump all it’s contents on the floor when Ross reaches a hand out and stops me. Aggravated, I try to move away from him but he holds on for firmly. 

“Grace, look at me.”

I shake my head and try to pull the bag back toward me. Sighing, Ross slowly disconnects my fingers from the bag and I don’t even put up a fight. We both know me freaking out right now isn’t over my worksheet.

It’s just the catalyst for my sudden and completely random breakdown.

I’m looking down at all the papers on the floor when I feel Ross put his hand under my chin. Lifting my face, his gaze meets mine sternly. “It’s going to be okay. Whatever is bothering you, I am here. I’ll always be.”

I try to nod but it comes out all jerky and awkward. Removing his hand, he instead pushes me all the way to the ground till my butt hits the aluminum tile.

I lean my back against the wall behind me and close my eyes. Before I can prepare myself, Ross slides to the floor next to me. We are shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip.

Everywhere his body touches mine is like an electric current getting set loose on my body. If he honestly thought sitting next to me while at the same time unintentionally touching me is going to help me, he isn’t a very smart boy.

“Grace,” He says in that calming voice of his. “We all know you aren’t this stressed out over a paper. What’s really going on?”

Opening my eyes, I look down at the paint that's dried under my nails.