Him & I

29

"Thank you!" She greets, taking the note back. "So much." I'm about responding non-committal when she adds in horrible Spanish accent, "Or should I say, Gracias mi chica."  before running off back where she came from.

Well.

That was horrible Spanish. Extremely horrible. I hope none of her exams in the class are verbal.

Yet It's good she came. Now all I've got to do is grab my stationery and go for class. Calculus. Not a favorite but I leave the comfort of my locker area to join the mass of students probably headed for class as well.

Coach's whistle stops the boys from playing, and also blocks my ears for a milli-second as it's so loud. I think Coach knows. And I think he likes it.

From the bottom of the bleachers he sends me a thumbs that I respond to by awkwardly nodding and sending a smile his way not knowing what else to do. I almost sent him a thumbs up too. Not sure it'd have been... the right thing to do.

School hours are over actually, but I chose to stay for football practice. Pamela also wanted to stay despite there being no cheer practice today. Claimed she could call an impromptu practice session, also added something along the lines, "and if any of them have a problem with it, they could as well quit the club." So, I begged her to go home. That I was fine on my own, and that there's Nathan who could drive me home. At the precise moment, I wasn't sure if Nathan even showed up at school, but I crossed my fingers that he did.

He did. He also showed up for practice.

Coach gives him a solid pat on the back as he jogs past him with a group of other guys that play on the team.

Meanwhile there's Tyler. Who's been making it hard to breathe anytime he raises the hem of his shirt to clean sweat off his face, revealing abs I could already guess where solid, but didn't need to see. Like he's doing now.

But I turn my gaze back to the jotter on my laps, going through everything written, because Tyler's abs aren't what I came here for. Not satisfied. With the notes, I mean. As always. While, yeah, right now there are alot of grammatical errors and even missing conjunctions due to how fast I was going, I'm actually never satisfied. Even when it's over-with and printed out. I think Danielle's right about me being a bit of a perfectionist. Just a little bit right. But I'm still always happy to see parts of it get hung on the hallway walls.

Shaking my head, I shut the jotter shut. All that would do for today. I mean, it just has to. But as I'm about leaning down to get my water bottle from the ground, I contemplate leaning the whole way down. Perhaps become one with the ground.

Because why is he coming this way?

God, no.

No.

Our first eye contact is when Tyler climbs the first step on the bleachers. Then pauses. His face seems bare of any expressions, like he's not even thinking— which I'm sure he isn't because where is he coming to? I know we've never had any cordial agreement of not speaking in school but...

But I thought we did.

My mind blanks out when his goes for the next step, body getting closer, till he stops right beside my seat.

God, no.

"Hey."

I first let my eyes roam round the field to see how it is, I'm mostly met with busy boys and vast green grass. Then I train my eyes to him, though blink away almost immediately. "Hi."

"Is there a problem?"

"No. No, why?" I pause the motion of my pen on paper I'm really not planning writing on.

"I don't know. If it were up to me, I'd say there is."

"There isn't." I clear my throat and look at him. "But, Uh, why are you here?" Mierda. I would slap my self across the face if that wouldn't make this more uncomfortable- Melissa was there really no better way to ask?

His eyebrows are bushy. It's what I notice first when a hint of hurt flashes across his face but I'm still not certain if it's hurt since it's gone as soon as it came.

His lips part. "How's the report coming up?"

"Good... Yeah, good." I'm this close to adding, "is that why you came?" But I'm also wiser this time.

Instead I add a choice of better words like, "I'll be done with it by the weekend, and everyone's doing a great job."

"And me?"

I freeze, but remain my gaze ahead, on the field, like the grass is greener than it was yesterday and I'm fascinated by it.Why is he asking that? "Everyone's doing a great job."

"And me?"

"Tyler," It's the only thing to come out of my mouth when I turn to the side. His lips form a coy smile before he lowers himself to a seat, our arms instantly brushing. His eyes are so striking. They're striking. And his lips again are wet for some reason. "Do you really need an opinion from me? You're from the NFL."

"Is it that hard for you to tell me how I'm doing?" his voice comes out as a breathy laugh and he leans back in his seat.

I keep my groan on the inside. The proximity is killing and I wonder if he can tell.

Hoping he can't, I take my eyes back to the field. Try my best to look unbothered. "So, what do you want? A royal banquet, pat on the back?"

"Maybe."

I look to him again, and for a truly odd reason, he actually seems to... perhaps not exactly need it, but he does seem to care about my opinion.

So pursing my lips first, I nod.  "You're doing great. Tyler."