where all the poets went to die [dead poets society]

9 - the most beautiful girl

Charlie rolled his eyes and Maria couldn't help but notice just how pretty his eyes looked in the sunlight or how the way his lips curved into a playful smile. Or how he was this perfect amalgamation of all the things she liked the most in a boy.

Maria couldn't help but wonder why Charlie affected her so much. It wasn't just his good looks - thought he was undeniably handsome - it was something more. She found herself drawn to the way he carried himself, with a carefree confidence that was almost infectious. She admired his wit and his silky slyness, even his slight arrogance and cockiness was attractive to an extent.

But it wasn't just those things that drew her to him. Maria found herself attracted the most to the way Charlie seemed to genuinely care about people, even those he barely knew - like her, once upon a time ago. She admired how fiercely loyal to his friends he was and how he stood up for what he believed in, even when it meant he was a rebel - a bad boy - in all just the way that counted.

He smirked at her. "Ridiculously handsome, you mean."

This time, Maria rolled her eyes and placed a hand on Charlie's chest, shoving him away from her, before she lost her will and found herself wanting to be even closer to him. "You wish, Dalton," she said. "Your ego could use a good bruising."

Charlie grinned, rubbing a hand against his chest, right where Maria had touched him. "You like it though, doll, don't lie to yourself."

Maria's heart skipped a beat at his words and she stepped back, trying to regain some composure. "I don't like anything about you, Charlie Dalton."

"Sure, sure," Charlie teased, holding up her notebook, and waving it in the air. "Wanna tell me who the poem's about, doll?"

Maria shook her head defiantly. "Absolutely not."

"Ah, so it is about someone?"

She had fallen right into that one, hadn't she?

Charlie smirked when he saw her caught-out expression. "So first, I have to worry about all of these stupid boys writing love poems to you and now I have to worry about you writing love poems to other boys?" He said with an exaggerated sigh. "Taking care of you is getting awfully exhausting, sweetheart."

Sweetheart.

That was new.

Gosh, she had it bad, didn't she?

Charlie let out a chuckle and stepped close enough to Maria that he could touch one of her curls. He tugged lightly - in an endearing sort of way. "But you're lucky I like you," he said with a wink, before tucking the curl behind her ear

Maria's heart raced as Charlie's finger brushed against her hair and the side of her face, sending shivers down her spine. His touch lingered at her temple and Maria realized with deafening certainty that she was falling hard for this boy - alarmingly hard and that both excited and terrified her just a little bit.

"Oi! Charlie! Maria!"

The sound of their friends calling out for them snapped Maria out of her daze and she quickly took the notebook from Charlie, trying to hide the fact that her hands were shaking. She cleared her throat, peeling her eyes away from Charlie's face. "We should probably go," she said, voice squeaking slightly. "You have the soccer thing with Uncle John, don't you?"

Charlie straightened and nodded. "Yeah, you coming to it, doll?"

She nodded. "Of course," she said.

"Hurry up you two or we're gonna be late!" Neil called out, waving his arms at the two of them from where he stood. The other boys were standing around him waiting.