His Blue ✓

1| Class with the QB

    I bite my tongue and try to calm myself with the newfound pain.

   "Thanks." I manage to say to my favorite teacher.

    "Have a great day." He calls.

    Doubt that.

    I sigh and pull my favorite dark blue hoodie over my head. I look at the room number on my paper and slip down the hallway quietly.

    I'm so nervous, my body goes numb and I can't even feel queasy anymore.

     When I spot the room in the distance, I take a deep breath and slow my pace. Not wanting to look like I've been in a rush, I casually stroll up to the wooden door and knock.

    The new teacher, Ms. Graves, opens it in surprise. "May I help you?"

    I nod, handing her the note without a word.

   "Oh yes- the class transfer." She murmurs. "Come on in."

     I silently follow her inside, my heart does somersaults as I observe a blank sea full of faces. Seniors, like me.

    My eyes accidentally lock with bright blue ones. I quickly look to my new teacher again.

     "Indigo Jasper." She looks at my paper before handing it back to me with a class syllabus. "Lucky for you, we have one open seat."

   My heartbeat thuds behind my throat and I try to listen to her instructions. "You'll find your assigned seat located in the back." She points. "Next to Anson Fischart."

     My heart drops to my navel.

     Anson is the highschool pretty-boy. He's the quarterback, of course he's popular for that. He has tousled dirty blonde hair, which is thick and lustrous. His face is strong and defined, as if his features have been molded from granite.

     His eyes are a mesmerising deep ocean blue.

     Side note: I heard some girls once say that you can see flecks of silvery light shining throughout them. I always wondered if it were true.

     All of his handsomeness- and I have to sit beside of him?!

     I shake the thoughts from my head.

     "Thanks." I inaudibly mumble.

      "Miss Indigo," Ms. Graves adds.

     I turn.

    "Take your hood off."

     My hood?

     Oh!

    I hear snickers and my face flushes hot with embarrassment. I reach up and tug at my hood, it falls to my shoulders and I tiptoe back to sit beside of Anson.

    I notice that in front of him is Bryce Brown, the runningback, and his best friend. Both of them are overrated if you ask me.

   When Ms. Graves turns and begins writing on the board, I feel Anson looking at me. I make sure to not return the favor.

    Why oh why must I be stuck back here with the jocks?!

     I tug at a silver bracelet around my wrist. Calm down, Indie. I sigh and focus on Ms. Graves.

    In a second, I wish I had not. She begins to excitedly discuss a "group project". Looking around, it becomes blatantly obvious that it doesn't matter if we pick partners or not. I'm alone here.