"She's my honeydew. Sweeter than most, and the best in every way."
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Jealous, grumpy, and glaring Ryland Andrews needs a little sweetness in his life, and who better to give it to him than his crush of 6 years.
Bubbly, talkative, and a little too...
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Lizzie's POV
Maybe I've been living under a rock. Like a ginormous stegosaurus boulder.
Apparently I missed the memo that Ryland Andrews is ouchy grouchy grump and hates everyone because frankly, I'm not seeing it.
This man literally blushes and smiles down at the floor like it's an olympic sport. And he's never been anything short of a sweetheart.
I mean, in all fairness, I've known him for less than a week, but since when did first impressions stop mattering?
"I still can't believe you got him to be the spotlight student." Sammy shakes his head at me in disbelief for the millionth time this period.
I genuinely didn't know this would be so shocking.
"How'd you even do it?"
"I asked him." I can't stop my shoulders from shrugging because the whole interaction really was that simple.
I mean, yes, the back of my neck got all hot, and I probably looked like a sweaty, nervous blushing mess. But he didn't seem all that reluctant when I asked him.
"But how did you ask him?" Sammy's crazy.
"Like normal."
"And he just said yes?"
"Yup," I can sense Sammy about to ask me more questions I don't know how to answer, so I move to get up. "I'm going to get more chocolate milk; be back in a second."
I navigate through the room, all the way to the far-left wall, where the "share" table sits. I frown seeing no chocolate milk, instead only a lonesome tangerine.
Picking up the small fruit, I roll it between my hands to loosen the peel.
A tingle on the back of my neck has me looking up to a table on my right, where I see Ryland sitting with his friends.
He snaps his head forwards the second I look over, causing my brow to furrow. I try to check the back of my skirt with a sense of casualty but see nothing.
Was he looking at me?
"Do I have something on my skirt?" I twirl around for Sam after practically running back to the table.
"No?"
"Oh."
I let myself fall onto the seat, thinking as I begin to peel the orange layer off the tangerine.
Maybe he was looking at the table and I was just in the way? Or maybe he forgot who I was and tried to recognize me? Or maybe I have a big stain on my butt and Sammy's just blind?
"Are you sure?" I stand quickly, doing a slower twirl to help his poor old man eyes.
"Yes! Your skirt's clean. Why are you freaking out so much?" He breathes out a laugh of exasperation.
