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I looked at him, astonished. His dark brown curls fell over his face, concealing the top of his deep blue eyes. His jaw was hard and set, like stone; it was engraved perfectly.
"Will you go out with me?" he'd said. I'd whirled around, to see if there was some other, prettier girl behind me. When I saw there wasn't, I slowly turned back to face him, and after I'd gotten over the shock, I opened my mouth to speak; the words came out hoarse, and my mouth was dry.
"M-me?...are you sure that's who you're talking to?" His lips curled up to form a smile, half-showing brilliant white teeth, and a small chuckle escaped him. His eyes tried to conceal a spark, but it impossible. He was enjoying this.
"Your name IS Allie Collins, isn't it?" Oh. My. Goodness. He knew my name. Score one for me. But I was still skeptic about the question he'd asked me before.
"Well, yes, but I have a question to ask YOU." I brought my cocky façade on. He said, "Alright."
"Why me?" He stood there, while everyone else at school just passed us by, hurrying to make it to class. He was quiet for a while, and with each passing second he made me regret even asking the question, certain now that his reply would be something like, "Forget it, my friends put me up to this." I bit the inside of my cheek, and I started to feel butterflies rising in the pit of my stomach.
Finally, he answered. "Because you're different. You're not some bratty, vain cheerleader. Heck, you're probably not even interested in me. That's what draws me to you." It was my turn to stand there, thinking, and once again, dumb-founded.
My response was kind of like this: "About the not-being-attracted to you part..." As soon as the words slipped from my lips, he replied hastily.
"-well if you do like me, it's better for me. The rest of what I said was true. Oh, and I love the way you write. Every since you wrote that poem in third grade about the squirrel."
My turn to smile. He remembered.
"Little squirrel, you watch from the trees
Always looking for some bird seeds
But I like you, little squirrel, with all of my heart.
Your little claws on the trees leave scratched paintings of art."
I won first place in the school district with that poem. I let out a sigh, and it brought me back to the problem at hand.
He'd won me over with a compliment. Sh*t.
By the time lunch was over, the whole school knew. At least, all the jealous girls knew. They all knew I was going out with Adam Welling, dubbed the Hottest Guy in School by the whole female student body at Robin Woods High, and maybe even a few other girls at the neighboring schools.
The time it took me to realize what had happened was also around the time every female started acting more "angry feline" around me. It was that crazy. There I was, minding my own business, and Laura Burke, head cheerleader for the Hunters (that's the name of our cheerleaders), looked me over as I stuffed cr*p in my locker, gave a little "hmph", and walked away. I guess I was probably not the choice she'd have chosen for his girlfriend. No, I'm pretty sure her choice for him was tall, blonde and skinny along with some serious need of an attitude ajustment, of which could only be found at the Barbie customer service hotline.
Down the hall, I saw her stop as she looked up into the sparkling eyes of my new...boyfriend. She cocked her hip out and started twirling a lock of hair with her index finger. Her face shown on the reflection of the mirror at the end of the passageway; it was confident and flirty.
"Hey, Adam!" I felt bile produce at my tongue. Nasty. He responded just as coyly.
"How's it going, precious?" Somewhere deep within the pit of my being, I felt a pang of what was either jealousy or disappointment, and maybe even a bit of rage. I dropped my head and continued rummaging for my Trig textbook. Still, part of me took comfort in the words he used to describe cheerleaders earlier, and I smiled. He seemed to notice my sudden actions, and he excused himself from the chattering cheerleader, and proceeded to make his way to me, as had been his intention in the first place. He strutted with boldness, pretending to not notice the conspicuous stares of every 14-18 year old girl he passed.
"Hey, darlin', how're things?" his eyes sparkled again.
"Do your eyes always sparkle like that?" His expression showed concern, as if he didn't know what I was talking about.
"W-what sparkle?" He asked, inquisitively and intimidating; he was making fun of me...again.
"That...glint in your eye when you look at me."
"I'm pretty sure you don't need an answer to that one, Allie. It's a pretty easy concept." There it was again, that glint.