And all of a sudden he was everywhere.
In the hallways.
In the school foyer.
In the common room.
Everywhere.
Like a carefree ghost. I find myself wishing to be like him, yet I barely know him. He was everything I wasn't. He was everything I wanted to be.
I don't understand how I hadn't noticed him before. I must be more self-absorbed than I thought.
My eyes pretend to look at the book lying in front of me as I secretly watch him talking to Janet Horsley, the captain of the school's debate team. She always had her sandy brown hair in a tight headache-worthy bun and she was constantly wearing some form of a suit as if to prepare herself for law school. I could see the crinkles of her thin lips leaning upwards every time he made a comment. That's the effect he had on people, I noticed. Making them smile with nothing more than his presence.
But before she'd even know it, he's off again, chatting to another member of our shared mixed year group form class. Her face left staring at the space he had just vacated.
I wouldn't classify him as popular. No, I wouldn't use that word. He was more well-respected. He seems to become friends with everyone he meets. So maybe I wasn't so special.
You can't tie him down to one clique. He fits in with everyone. He'll just keep bouncing from one to another like a grasshopper.
I realise that he's in year 13 not 12 like me so that meant he'll be sitting his A levels in the summer. I'm still baffled as to why I'd never acknowledged him before now.
I watch his eyes scan the whole room like he's searching for someone or something probably Kimberly Siu or Sander Eke, everyone seems to look for them.
Finally, I sense his eyes coming to a rest on me, and it stays there. His eyes are like a storm daring me to come closer. They gleam brightly while his mouth only turns up a fraction of an inch.
Odd. It's almost as if he intends to find me. I'm not sure why but I find that so hard to believe.
He begins to mouth something but before I can make it out, I swiftly turn my head back to the Shakespeare text Mrs Evergreen is making our class study for homework. I'm silently praying that he doesn't come over.
I absolutely can not deal with this right now. Not in class, not in front of everyone.
But, to my dismay, I hear his tentative footsteps approach my desk.
I quickly comb my hair through my fingers as to no avail, my tight coils stay exactly the same.
I knew I shouldn't have taken out my braids yesterday.
I adjust my sitting stature then I pause not knowing why I all of a sudden care about the way I look.
"Harley-Blair Thompson, right?" My heart flutters a little bit. He remembers my name. I suppose it was only last week but still... He remembers. Out of all the people in the schools' names, he remembers mine.
His voice is soft and inviting but I know better.
Just him standing there talking to me in front of everyone made me insanely nervous. The room is getting smaller and smaller and I can feel my voice running away from my throat, leaving it dry and scratchy. This can't be happening.
Please go away, not forever just not now or here, please not here. I plead in my head. I can't help but wish that he actually does have superpowers and would use them to disappear.
He bites his lip and nervously runs his hand through his dark tamed hair. He's clearly waiting for my response and is probably wondering whether I'm just being rude or really shy.
"I'm Parker, " he laughs nervously. "Peter Parker, remember?"
Oh, that's right. He thinks that I'm the one that's forgotten about him. How could I do that? Has he seen himself?
"Uhh-" was all I could manage to get out before Mr Prue, our balding form tutor, interrupts us with a strict order for Parker to stop walking aimlessly around the classroom.
Parker stalks back to his seat without saying another word instead he just looks at me contemplatively before turning back to his seat neighbour, Kimberly.
Meanwhile, the room was starting to restore to its normalcy but my mouth was still dry. I need water.
God, that was so close, I couldn't have had a freaking anxiety attack in front of the whole class, they already think I'm weird enough. But, just to make sure, I excuse myself from the classroom and head to the toilets.
I breathe in the cool, clean air of the hallway, soaking it all in. He was nervous. But why?
The corridor is quiet and empty just how I like it. It smells like lemon floor polish and teenage body odour.
I linger there a little while longer with my back against one of the lockers before entering the female toilets. I quickly splash cold water onto my face to stop it from feeling so warm. I look up, water dripping off my eyelashes and stare at myself in the mirror. My boring brown eyes stare back at me disappointingly.
"Why can't you just be like everyone else?" I ask myself, slapping the side of my head. I must stop doing that, Silas would be so unhappy if he knew I was purposely harming myself.
I dry my face with the hem of my t-shirt. That one thought rang through my head.
Why would he be nervous?
"I personally think that being like everyone else is boring, where's the fun in that?" a familiar voice enthuses.
I realise that the door had been slightly ajar so I open it up fully to be greeted by a red bashful face.
"Hi." He says sheepishly. His hands are stuffed in his jeans pocket and he's blushing ever so slightly, a stupid slow grin appearing on his face. I could see the slight indent of a dimple next to his right eye. "I swear I'm not stalking you or anything and I didn't mean to eavesdrop."
"You're not meant to be in here," I point out. There was dried paint all over his trainers and hands.
An artist?
He heard that. How long has he been standing there? Did he see me slap myself? My heart is beating so hard within my chest, I want to run and hide. However, my body wouldn't move.
"Well technically I'm not actually in here, I'm outside." He rolls his eyes at me as if to say duh.
"Really?" I manage to say. To say I was surprised at myself would be an understatement, the words just kept tumbling out of my mouth without me even realising it. "You just happened to walk into the girl's restroom?"
"Again, I'm not inside, I'm outside." His cheeks burned furiously as he gestures to his feet which were stood directly in front of the door, "And okay maybe I was eavesdropping a bit but it's just because I didn't get a chance to speak you in form."
"So you decide to follow me to the toilets?" I raise my eyebrows at him and he flushes even redder.
"I swear, it sounds way worse than it is." He holds his arms up in defeat.
Something in my head warns me that this was all some sort of practical joke. Parker Sorrisi can't possibly want to speak to me. It doesn't make any sense. We only met once and it's not as if we spoke about anything extraordinary.
He bites his bottom lip nervously and scratches the side of his nose. "I meant what I said by the way." He's still staring at me, those piercing grey eyes studying my face.
It's definitely those eyes. They hold so many stories within them.
"Sorry, I think you've got the wrong person," I try and edge my way past him but he effortlessly pulls me back with one arm.
He examines my face. "I'm one hundred per cent sure it was you," he raises an eyebrow "Am I that forgettable?"
For a second, a flicker of disappointment passes through his face but he quickly adjusts it back to a neutral gaze.
"No, of course I remember you, the boy with the grey eyes," I reply, pushing the loose strand of frizzy hair behind my ears. "But... I'd never think that you'd remember me."
After saying that I immediately feel sheepish. Somehow, I always think of the wrong things to say.
Now, he's going to think I'm insecure -which I am but that doesn't mean I want him to think it.
He shrugs and tilts his head quizzically, "Why wouldn't I?"
Now it was my turn to blush. He smiles again and I wonder if he ever stops smiling. "You refer to me as the boy with the grey eyes in your head?" I blush even deeper and he seems to find that so amusing. "Do you have a phone number?"
"I don't have a phone," I mumble. I have never felt the need for one, it's not as if I have any friends to socialise with. I use my laptop mainly as I communicate with family mostly through emails.
My heartbeat accelerates with the thought that he may think of me as a total social recluse. What type of 16-year-old girl doesn't have a cellphone? He must think I'm such a loser. Damn it, I should've just lied to him and said I did, but even I can't have pulled off a simple lie like that.
What if he called the fake number in front of me?
"That's a shame." He looks down at his shoes and idly swings back and forth on his heels.
He's probably as nervous as I am right now. But I just don't get it. Why would he be nervous?
"Do you have an email at least?" He smiles brightly. I marvel at his effort. He really was persistent in talking to me.
"Why?" I ask, lines forming between my eyebrows. "Why are you doing this? Huh? It's not as if you've bothered to talk to me before."
He just looks at me, his eyes staring directly into mine. Contrasting against his coffee brown locks but went perfectly with his faded silver T-shirt. I feel stupid. What was I thinking? I'm never gonna be capable of being his friend.
"Why do you look so sad all the time?" He dodges my question, his gaze still searching mine. But this time they hold something more. Sympathy? Curiosity?
I hate sympathy. It's all I ever got when my Papa died, the pitying looks and 'I'm sorry's' from teachers and extended family members. Which eventually turns into awkward glances away and hushed conversations. No one wants to be friends with the depressed girl.
It irritates me because yes what happened was sad and tragic and it hurt me deeply but it was also extremely selfish. I had no idea why I was the only one angry about his death. Didn't Silas and Pops care?
I fold my arms and puff my chest up. "How about we make a deal?" I wager. "You answer my question and I'll answer yours, then we can go back to class and you can forget about me."
"I don't like the sound of th-" he began to protest. His eyebrows snap together like two hairy slugs kissing, they look like they haven't seen a pair of tweezers before.
"Deal?" I ask again, cutting him off. I fold my arms even tighter under my bosom, hoping I wasn't bringing any attention to my boobs but his eyes remained looking at my eyes.
"Half deal. I'm not forgetting about you." He checks his watch quickly and frowns. "We only have a couple of minutes until Prue gets suspicious and makes us stay behind to count pencils with him." He shakes his head at the stupid punishment that Mr Prue was known to torture his students with.
I nod my head okay.
"Go on then, answer my question." I give him an accusing glare. "Why are you bothering now when you haven't before?"
He shuffles from feet to feet idly. "Believe me, I've tried many times before but you always have a look of annoyance planted on your face and to be honest it scares me."
Finally, he looks up and he gives me that warm smile again that makes me want to melt into a pool of butter on the porcelain tiled floor. "But the other day, when I saw you staring at your camera next to the dumpster, you looked so peaceful like you were in your element. I knew then why you were at this school. Photography is your gift, right?" I nod at him slowly and he continues.
"I almost didn't walk over but I realised it might be my only chance so I took it."
I could feel myself going red. Why did I always have to embarrass myself? All this time it had been my face that was such a deterrent for people to like me.
"You still haven't told me why though?" I eye him suspiciously as my fingers absent-mindedly traced the lining of the sink basin.
He pauses for a couple of seconds, thinking."You didn't ask why I wanted to talk to you," He shrugs. His eyes hold a cheeky glint in them. "You asked me why I'm bothering now and I have answered that so you have to answer my question now, that was the deal."
I inwardly groan. "Oh, you're good." I knew it was a bad idea to talk to him, I knew I wasn't ready to start speaking to people again.
This feels like the first time when I went for a counselling session. I remember walking into this office, it was huge and scary and resembled a prison. My brother Silas arranged the appointment for me since he could sense that I was spiralling down the same path my father went through. No one even noticed that I wasn't eating as much or laughing or smiling anymore. No one noticed that no more friends came around the house or that I barely ever spoke. No one except my brother Silas. This was partly because Pops was too doped up on prescription anti-depressants.
I doubt he'd had even noticed if I came home with two children and a swollen pregnant belly. Silas was the only one who stuck around long enough to see that something was seriously wrong.
I suck on my bottom lip then continue tracing the smooth marble surface. I always suck my lips when I'm nervous, a habit I need to get out of before I start to look like Jocelyn Wildenstein.
"Do you really want to know?" I taunt, finally.
He gives me a mild laugh and all I and think about was how oddly good-looking he is. He was wearing black distressed jeans that had odd pink and green paint stains on them, it looked like they were accidental stains and not the fashionable kind. His once white battered air forces looked like they'd seen better days. His hair clearly looked like his fingers had permanent residence in there but the shagginess appealed to me. How could someone this beautiful be even remotely interested in me? Even as a friend.
"Well?" He says, looking at me hopefully.
"Alright, I always look sad because I always am sad." I cross my arms. "That's my story. See, nothing special." I give him a tight-lipped smile.
As I was talking, he was nodding his head slowly and then furrows his brows. And then he reacts in a way totally different to what I had expected.
"I'm going to change that." He smiles to himself.
"What?" I stare at him, confused.
"I'm going to take my time to learn you, Harley-Blair." He blinks slowly at me making my heart race. "And when I'm done you'll never want to stop smiling. I promise."
"I-"
"See you tomorrow, HB." He laughs again as he swiftly leaves the bathroom.
I could still drink in his scent of oranges and patchouli.
This is going to be one hell of a ride.
A/N- keep voting!! Xxx