I Care (Solangelo)

Chapter Thirteen

The final bell rang, signalling all the students to start heading home. I was overfilled with joy as I hopped from my seat and dashed down the halls and out the building.

It was stormy outside, so I ran as fast as I could without tripping over my own feet. I could just about see people in the bus, so I ran faster, gaining speed.

Maybe a little too much speed.

All of my attempts to not trip over my own feet were deemed useless and I tumbled down to the ground, rolling in front of the bus. My head bounced a little, and a sharp pain sprouted from the back of it on its last bounce. Real smooth, Nico, you're sure to impress many people with moves like that.

The bus roared to life. Apparently nobody saw my horrible mistake, which was the good news.

The bad news was, oh I don't know, I fell in front of a bus, maybe? Not to be over dramatic, but I could die.

It hurt to think, though. My head seemed rattled, but not the kind that causes permanent damage. The only part of this experience that could cause permanent damage was if the bus rolled one yard forward.

"Hey!" A familiar voice called. Not the kind of familiar voice that you could put a name and face to, but the kind of familiar that gives you a sense of comfort, like you know you're safe with that voice. "You could get hurt! Get up!" I felt like a damsel in distress as a shadow was cast over me. A hand appeared in front of my face.

I silently took it and a strong grip formed around my wrist. My body shot up with a slight tug from the other male. My back was dripping wet, my hair was wet, and my head was spinning. I tried to shake off the dizziness.

"The name's Jackson. Percy Jackson." The guy looked at the sun that was barely peeking from the storm clouds, trying to be heroic and all that, but I'm pretty sure that could make someone blind.

Nodding a thanks, I tucked my head into my hoodie and ran onto the bus. It took me about two seconds to find Will and plop next to him.

"You just made it," Will stated as the bus started driving away. I looked him dead in the eyes, mouthing the words "I know." What? Did he think I didn't notice the bus cranking up, and a bus possibly flattening me like a... a... sticky note? (Or a pancake but sticky notes were more relevant to my life.)

I remembered what I had in my pocket. I took out the neatly combined and totally not crumpled sticky notes. Maybe Will, the brilliant Will, would know where they came from.

Unfortunately, all I could do was point at them. I don't think he got what I was trying to commute, because all he did was smile and stare at the totally-not-wadded up sticky notes.

I couldn't help but notice how brightly his eyes lit up as he looked at them. If only I could get him to look at me that way.

But... why would I want him to look at me with that expression? What was my brain trying to tell me?

I mean, Will was attractive, sure. He had gorgeous hair that made little waves. He had tanned skin, like he went to the beach every weekend for a fresh tan. His eyes were the most tantalizing shade of blue imaginable, and he had the body of an athlete.

I never saw myself as the type to be attracted to looks alone, though.

Guess there's a first time for everything?