You're given 0.7 seconds to decide what to do when the most popular boy waltzes up to you and starts throwing pick up lines at you. What would you choose?
a) Slap him
b) Throw a sarcastic remark at him
c) Walk away
If you were like those daring s...
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"i'm no mathematician, but I'm pretty good with numbers"
I furrowed my brows as I analysed my drawing. Delicate strokes formed the darkened eye pupil and subtle eyelashes. It was almost the end of lunch and I had only managed to draw a small eye.
Disappointed in myself, I wanted to rip out and throw away the thin paper but remembered the rule I had set myself when I started drawing. Always keep the drawings no matter how bad they are, so in the future, you can look back at them and see how you progressed and improved.
I bit my bottom lip and flipped the book to a new blank page where my pencil met the paper, only to make random lines since my mind was practically blank.
I was a bit irritated this morning. Someone ran into me in the hallway, but instead of being a nice person, she muttered a 'Soz' and walked off leaving me to pick up my things. There were so many inconsiderate people now.
"I'm no mathematician, but I'm pretty good with numbers."
My head shot up faster than a rocket, dropping my pencil out of surprise. I came eye to eye with the brown haired boy once again. Today he supported a black t-shirt and I could see the words 'wanted' imprinted on the middle of the front of the shirt since he wasn't crossing his arms. He wore loose-fitting jeans with black vans.
My eyes continued up until they reached his eyes. I stared at them for a few seconds before changing course and focusing on the very interesting piece of gravel near the brick next to the pavement.
"Tell you what, give me yours and watch what I can do with it."
It actually took me a lot longer to process this than before because of the shock and confusion that hadn't worn off yet. What is this boy doing? He's Carson López. Carson. López. He should be spending his lunchtimes at his table in the middle of the cafeteria surrounded by his popular friends.
What is he doing here again? What kind of prank lasts two days? Wasn't one time good enough?
My mouth opened briefly before being shut again. About several seconds later, I managed to squeak out a reply. "W-What?"
He smirked at me. "Your number please, my lady?"
"What--No... Why--But..." I faltered hopelessly, already knowing my face was evolving into another shade of red.
"You number?"
"Excuse me," I repeated once again, swiftly picking up my sketchbook and box of sketching pencils, then dumping it in my nearly shredded bag. I rushed off, not looking back to see his face. I'd bet his eyes would be filled with amusement. Maybe someone's recording this. What if they show it to the whole school?
