Seventeen-year old first year college student Josie Clarke would prefer not to blush the colour crimson at every little thing, but Idiopathic Craniofacial Erythema, a chronic facial condition doesn't play fair.
In fact, it's as uncontrollable...
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When Jamie steps out of his office and catches me walking past on my way through the media block, I'm pretty sure everyone within a ten mile radius can hear my internal screams of Oh god, what have I done now...
And as he calls out my name in a casual manner, with one arm leisurely stretched across the doorframe, hair loose and dishevelled, I'm convinced that the sinking in my stomach echoes loudly throughout the corridor as I step forward. Anticipation mixes with nerves. Thumps with the potential threat of ICE, right in time for when Jamie's warm hand falls gently on my shoulder, to guide me in.
He shuts the door and I awkwardly idle by it, feeling stuck in the red.
Blushing 18 shades of it.
"Josie, have you got a moment?" He moves a pile of sketchbooks from the edge of his desk, which he then perches on. Waiting for a reply, he pushes up the sleeves of his half button down t-shirt, because it's still so damn warm outside. And inside too - if the heat from my face is anything to go by.
"Uh..." My voice is hoarse. "I guess so." The weight in my stomach sinks further with the worry of having possibly missed one of his lessons. If I've been stupid enough to write the wrong time table down in my notebook again.
"Okay, so, there are a couple of things I wanted to briefly talk about," Jamie gestures that I take a seat opposite, telling me to make myself comfortable with zero irony. "Firstly, I wanted to check in and see how you're feeling about the presentation next week?"
"Fine."
"Are you sure?"
I turn away, catching a breath. "Sure." I'm not giving an inch but then again, it's hard to care when I'm blushing one million degrees.
He leans forwards and flashes a sympathetic yet troubled smile. "It's just that you've been awfully quiet in our lessons this week. I'm, well frankly a little worried about you. Something just doesn't feel quite right."
Nothing new there.
"Is there anything else on your mind Josie? Apart from the presentation?" He brings a hand to rest on the seats plastic back. "I was your age once, though that may be hard to believe." Quietly he chuckles, though it's not hard to believe. He doesn't look a day over twenty.
When he starts to scoot off the desk and crouches low beside me, his aftershave crushes all my senses and sanity, and as I try to recoil in my seat all of me sticks to the vinyl chair cover. A farting squeak of a sound that is beyond mortifying escapes from under and gains a perplexed, slightly shocked expression from him.
