45 Days to Save the Bad Boy

Eight

There are many embarrassing moments in a person life.  My top moment used to be when I ran downstairs dressed as a Dalek screaming “EXTERMINATE!”, and my mom was having a fancy dress party.  In my defense, she didn’t tell me!  She simply ordered me to stay in my room.  I didn’t agree with the order, and disobeyed it.  I’ve regretted it my entire life.

I’ve just beat my embarrassment record, by opening the front door dressed in a towel, and greeting Breton Joel with a high-pitched girly scream.

“AAH!” I screamed, covering my eyes.

“AAH!” he screamed, covering his eyes.

“Sorry!” I yelled, shutting the door.  I sprinted up to my room and dressed as fast as possible, stumbling down the stairs as I pulled on socks.  I yanked the door open again, and Breton was still standing there with flushed cheeks as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“I am soooooo sorry,” I said, dragging out the so.  “I was expecting my mom, she said she’d be back before I left for school, and so I didn’t even check and then that just happened.  I’ve scarred you for life, haven’t I?”

“It’s nothing I haven’t ever seen before,” he said trying to be nonchalant.  I gave him a confused look.

“You’ve seen me dressed in a towel before?” I asked, mortified.

“NO!” he said.  “I just meant - I didn’t - you misunderstood - No I’ve never! - “ he floundered.

“Oh.  Oh, you just meant like, girls in general!  Not me,” I said in relief.  Then my face flushed brightly.  “I really didn’t mean to make it sound like that.”

By now, both of our faces were bright red.

“Sorry,” I squeaked out.  “I- Um - would you like some water?”  My voice was still squeaky and I didn’t think it was going away anytime soon.

“Water would be nice thank you,” Breton replied politely, avoiding my gaze.  I nodded awkwardly, realized he wasn’t looking at me so he couldn’t see me nodding, and walked swiftly into the kitchen.

Typical me, as I emerged with the glasses of water, I tripped.  Fortunately, I didn’t spill them on Breton.  Sadly, they did spill all over me, or to be more specific, all over my white shirt.  

Breton and I stared in horror as the water soaked into my shirt, making my bra visible.  As if prompted by some invisible cue, Breton whirled around and covered his eyes as I crossed my arms over my chest awkwardly.

“Please, please let something go right today!” I begged as I changed my shirt yet again.

Cautiously, I walked down the stairs and peered into the main room.  Breton was standing half in the hallway, looking as though leaving would be a good idea right about now.  I figured I would just let the poor boy leave, he’d been through enough torture, but he called out my name.

“Georgie?  You okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine.  I’m really um, I’m so sorry about that.  I don’t usually wear white shirts, I only own one of them, and really it’s just bad luck that I wore it today.  Did you ask if I was okay?”

“I thought maybe you were, um, well considering how clumsy you are I was worried something had happened,” he explained.

“Oh.”  I blushed.  “I’m okay.  No serious injuries, except to my pride, which wasn’t very large anyway.”  Breton laughed.

“Anyway, I came over to ask if you wanted a ride to school... with me?  I see you walking every day, but I could drive you, we’d get there quicker,” he said.