For the first time
I walked through the school gates and was instantly swamped by my friends running up to me and surrounding me. "Yeah, guys, ummm, I missed you too." I muttered before making my way out of the huddle of people I used to call friends. After my gran had died during the summer, I had kind of gone slightly antisocial; she had had Cancer for the second time, and her body couldn't fight it. All summer, my 'friends', knowing the situation and minor details, kept on pestering me to come out over the holiday and have fun, to - and I quote - 'stop being such a dead beat'. Since then, I had stopped talking to them, unless absolutely necessary, and had started to draw, something my gran used to do; she used to sketch people's portraits - they were amazing.
As I walked down the busy corridor, a rose was taking place in my open sketch pad (Rose was my grans name, you see), one of the roses that grew around my gran's front door on a trellis.
"Woah!" A masculine voice said as felt a pair of hands clutch my upper arms. I looked up from my sketch pad to see a guy with scruffy, dirty blond hair and green eyes. He guided me away from the centre of the corridor and towards an open locker.
"Huh?" I muttered as I stared in the direction that I'd planned to go, seeing two guys roughing it up (and I don't mean sexually, before you assume), on the floor, and a group of people crowded round in a semi-circle, cheering them on.
"Did you really want to walk into that?" The guy asked, his voice bearing a heavy welsh accent.
Smiling up at him, I quietly said "No. Thank you."
He returned my smile and said "That's okay." He was still holding my arms. I cleared my throat as I looked at his hands. He smiled sheepishly, apologized and moved his hands to the side of his body. "So, I'm Michael. Who are you?" He said forwardly, offering his hand for me to shake.
I took his large hand, shook it, and said "Holly. Nice to meet you. But, hey, I don't think I've ever seen you before." The last part came out as more of a question than a statement.
"Oh, no. My family and I just moved here from Wales this summer."
"Explains the sexy accent." I muttered under my breath.
"Well, yours is pretty hot too. Where's that? Ireland?"
"North. And... how did you guess? Most people don't really notice my accent." Honestly, most people didn't even know I was from Northern Ireland. My accent was quite light and didn't show too often.
"I just love accents; the way we're all different and that. I pick up on them easily - well, except for yours, yours was a little harder than most." He grinned, and winked at me.
"Umm, thanks?" I replied, remembering that he had said he liked my accent.
"Any time." He checked his watch and said "Well, I better be going, gotta' try and find my class."
Nodding, I said "Do you want any help?" He nodded meekly, a cute smile playing on his Cupid's bow lips. "What do you have?"
He pulled a sheet of paper from his locker and said "History." I peeked over the top of the sheet to see that he was in the same block as me.
"Cool, I'll take you there - I'm in that block next anyway." He nodded, and folded the piece of paper before slipping it in to his pocket. We then walked towards the Humanities block, talking about why the two of us had moved to this area of England.
"Bye, Holly. And thanks." Michael said as he walked into his classroom, sending me another perfect smile.
"No problem, Michael." I turned away and walked to my Geography classroom that was situated just along the hall.
As I sat in Geography listening to the teacher talking about disasters and soldiers being sent out to help the people affected, I began to daydream, imagining a strong soldier picking me up bridal style and carrying me towards a waiting boat that would take us to safety.
"Holly! If you'd like to join us?" snapped me out of my fantasy. My head shot up to see the ageing teacher hanging above me.
"You were off in La la land. Anything you'd like to share?"
"No. No, this I'd like to keep for myself, all for myself." I smirked devilishly as I thought about the muscular soldier carrying me away in his arms, biting my lip.
"So, how was History?" I directed to Michael who was just walking out of his classroom. He jumped slightly before turning to see that it was just me.
Smiling, he said "Great, thanks."
"Good. So, what next?"
"Umm," he rummaged around in his pocket, took out his timetable, consulted it and said "Drama."
I smiled at him and said "Hey, me too. Who do you have?"
"Well, enjoy Drama classes with me." I told him and steered him in the direction of the Drama department.
He smiled and asked "Are you a big Drama person, then?" as we walked through the department doors.
"Mmm... so so." I answered, wavering my hand in a 'kind of' motion.
"Well, may I escort you to the theatre, then, m'lady?" Michael asked, placing his arm out like a posh tot waiter would do, grinning.
"No." I replied.
"A: We're not going to the theatre, and B: you have absolutely no idea where you're going."
"Point. B-ut... you can take my arm and lead me there and make me feel like the gentleman I'm trying to be. How 'bout that?" Smiling, I linked arms with him, guiding him towards our Drama room.
"Ah, mon petit-chou has found herself a tall, dark and handsome stranger!" Mr Patrelli exclaimed as we were the first to step in to the Drama room.
"No, Mr P, he found me - actually, he saved me from walking right in to the middle of a fight."
"Of course, poulet, he found you." Mr P then started to mutter things under his breath as Michael looked at me with one eyebrow cocked, showing utter confusion.
"He's the Drama teacher. He's gay, he enjoys people calling him 'Mr P', and likes to throw random pieces of French in here and there. He's all 'the world is perfect, and everything is all good, and war is just a form of debating'." I explained, mimicking Mr P's voice.
"I do not sound like that." Mr P said from across the room, sounding shocked.
"No 'fence, Mr P, but you really do." Michael put in. I sighed and had a feeling Mr P would start a 'debate' with him any minute now.
"Oh, ma chérie! He's a keeper; so honest and truthful."
I felt my cheeks flush a burning crimson and snapped "Mr P, Simon Amstell and Stephen Fry both announced that they're marrying women.", knowing it would wind him up.
"Sorry, mate, but it is."
"SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!" He shouted, storming away from me with his fingers in his ears and saying 'la la la la la' as he did so.
I smiled triumphantly and turned to Michael, only just realizing that our arms are still linked. Pulling my arm out of his caused a look of - hurt? - to flash across his face. He then moved closer to me and smiled sweetly, a single dimple situating itself on the left side of his smile. I bit my bottom lip and looked down at my feet. A thumb and finger then caught my chin and lifted it so I was now looking Michael in the eyes. He leaned down and gently pressed his lips to my own, his sweet lips were warm and soft. I was a bit shocked by his sudden burst of courage, and slightly scared, but didn't want it to end.
When he pulled away, I looked up, my cheeks glowing pink, and whispered "Best first kiss ever." He just smiled sweetly at me.
YOU ARE READING
My Shining Soldier (ON HOLD)Teen Fiction
Michael and Holly were teenage sweethearts. From the moment they met in middle school, they knew that they'd last. After just finishing high school, Michael makes a decision to fulfill his dream and sets everything in motion. There are ups and down...