In My Arms | fangle | under editing

chapter nine | Asking

"Y-yes Ms. Thompson?" I asked. She sighed.

"Please stop distracting the class with your pen tapping." She replied as she walked back to the board and continued her lesson.

"Now as I was saying, function tables are..."

Her words, once again, began to falter into something unrecognizable. Simple hums and rhythms I simply didn't care enough to register. My brain was too busy contemplating the idea of asking Foxy out to understand function tables. But then again, I don't even think the lack of a distraction could get me to understand function tables.

The tapping on my shoulder brought me out of my haze. The hand belonged to Mike Schmidt, who sat next to me. He handed me a piece of paper that was neatly folded at least four times over. He pointed to the seat next to him, which belonged to Foxy. I looked at the paper and gave a small smile at what he'd written. 

what's on your mind that's got you tappin? 

I quickly scribbled a response before handing it to Mike so he could pass it to Foxy.

do you actually care or is it just annoying you?

well duh I care, that's why I asked. are you gonna share, or is it ~private~

It's just the snowflake bash

oh I see, are you thinking of asking someone or ?

nope, kinda just thinkin

I watched as Foxy smiled and wrote his response. He folded it and handed it to Mike, but it seemed Mike had grown tired of our childish antics of passing notes like fifth graders. Instead of giving it to me, he tore it into pieces and shot both of us a glare. I couldn't help but stifle a giggle, and I noticed Foxy did the same.

Foxy's smile soon faded as he went back to work. His eyes dropped to his worksheet and his pencil scribbled down the answers he probably got right. He was smart like that. The way his hair framed his face and he chewed his lip while he concentrated made my heart go aflutter. I wanted to hold onto this feeling. I wanted to look at him and get those butterflies in my stomach forever. I wanted to ask him to the dance because I wanted him. And for once in my life... I wasn't going to let my own insecurities hold me back.

>> timeskip <<

The cafeteria began to fill up at an alarming rate. I knew I had only minutes to talk to Foxy before the rest of the gang showed up. I may have gained the minuscule bit of confidence needed to ask him but asking with an audience? The day that happens will be the day I'm put in my grave.

"Hey, Foxy. Can I talk to you?" I said quietly as I sat next to him. The minuscule bit of confidence needed to ask him has officially been drained.

"Sure thing, lass." He said with a smile. I took a deep breath.

"Alright. Well... You know how the dance is coming up?" I asked timidly.

"Yeah..."

"Um... Well.... IwaswonderingifyouwouldgototheSnowflakeBashwithmeImeanyoutotalydonthavetoifyoudontwanttobutitwasjustasuggestion," I said all at once. He lightly chuckled.

"Say that again, and this time, go a bit slower, will ya'?" He replied.

"Oh... Um... Okay... Will.............. You................-"

"Maybe a bit faster?" He asked. My heart began to thump in my chest. My throat clammed up and I almost backed out of asking him entirely. But as I looked into his eyes, I was reminded of everything I loved about him. His Irish accent, his braces, his sweet laugh. I loved the way he would trace parts of his hook when he was nervous. I loved the way he would run his hand through his hair when he was playing soccer so it wouldn't stick to his forehead. I loved the way his gold eye would practically sparkle when he got excited. I loved it all. But not only the things he did... It was him. The living, breathing Foxy was who I loved.