What I like about you

8

Today is the day.

Friday.

A day I have been worrying about since I knew what would come.

The front of the school is littered with people. Black, red, and white paint covers their faces as the school spirit shows through their clothing.

I walk on the straight sidewalk to the front doors of the school, hiking my bag further on my shoulder.

A hand clamps on my forearm, turning me to face them.

Blake stands, his tall figure sporting his white football jersey over a red sweatshirt. The number 19 displayed on the fabric.

I look into his eyes as he smiles down at me. It fades once he takes in my appearance. His face holding a confused expression.

"Why didn't you dress out?" He looks me up and down, his eyes burning my skin.
"Where's the school spirit?"

"I don't own anything like that." I feel embarrassed, of course.

For as long as I lived here, I still don't own any clothing for these types of events. Nobody noticed me, so I never thought it was really necessary.

Until now.

"Not even a simple T-shirt?" He asks as if this is the most surprising thing anyone has ever told him.

"No." I look down, my cheeks burning in embarrassment as he looks at me.

"Here. Go put this on and I'll take you to get your face painted." He hands me a hoodie that was in his bag.

The light material felt warm and soft in my hands. The white color contrasting with the red and black lettering. His name and number printed on the back and the team and school name on the front.

I look back up at him, his eyes staring into mine.

"Come on." He smiles, leading me into the school and towards a classroom.

"This is my number, you know?" I smile down at the hoodie, my hand tracing the number.

"Seriously?" He keeps his long strides.

"Yeah, it's my favorite number." I try to keep up with him.

"Well, it's my favorite now." I look up at him only to see that he's smirking down at me.

He finds the room, filled with cheerleaders and other students, paint and confetti everywhere. Everyone's voices carrying through the open door.

Blake puts his hand on the small of my back and leads me to a table full of paint. His hoodie still in my hand as I look around the room.

"I'll get someone to paint your face." He looks around before looking back at me and to my hand.
"Put it on, I promise it's warm." He smiles before walking off.

I smile to myself, pulling the hoodie over my head and on my body. My arms slipping through the sleeves, his scent engulfing my senses. And he was right...it was warm.

"Hey!" A cheerleader chirps at me, paint and ribbons in her hands.

"Hi."

"Blake asked me to help you with the face paint?" She smiles at me.

I nod my head and she takes a seat next to me. I take off my glasses. Opening the paint bottles and dipping the paint brush in, she starts making quick and soft motions as she dabs the paint on my face.

"So, you and Blake, huh?" She smirks.

"What do you mean?"

"Are y'all a thing?" She all but squeals.