Teen Ink

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I sat quietly in math class and listened to my teacher drone on about what he expected from us students throughout the school year. Being the first day at a new school I was not exactly pleased to be there. It was the end of my summer and the beginning of my suffering behind the closed doors of the academic world. Thankfully, this was the last class of the day and my mind was numb from the constant repetition of the rules, expectations, and standards. Glancing around the room, I scrutinized everything. The boring white walls were covered with multiple colorful posters on various math terms and tricks. Looking at the students, I could pick out the jocks from the geeks, the quiet from the annoyingly outgoing, and the fake girls who plaster their face in makeup and dye their hair to make up for what they lack in personality from the simple, clean beauties.
It was then that I spotted him. He was looking straight at me with no intention of hiding his stare. When he didn’t look away, I diverted my eyes to my books and messed with a bookmark. Blood flushed my cheeks and I arranged my hair so that it fell over my face.
I stayed that way for the rest of the class period. When the bell rang, I started from my position and I jumped up to leave, but he beat me to the door. Every other student had hastily exited the room, anxious to leave, but he stood, his shoulder pressed against the door frame, blocking my way.
He was tall, towering over me. He had broad shoulders and a defined muscular physique. He had the strangest, most intriguing shade of brown hair: chocolate brown with a hint of creamy coffee. His hair hung into his eyes, partly covering them, giving him a mysterious, enchanting look. One corner of his lips curled up into a crooked half smile. He met my gaze and held it, giving me no escape from his stare.
“Hey, Abby, right?” he said in a smooth, bass tone. I nodded, my voice suddenly gone. He smiled. “I’m Daren. Can I have your number and maybe we can hang out some time?” He smiled wider at me. His statement wasn’t really a question. I got the feeling he was the sort of guy that was not used to being turned down. And no way was I going to turn him down.
I nodded at him and pulled a sheet of paper from my notebook, quickly scrawling my number in the corner, ripping it off and handing it to him.
“See ya around, Abby,” he said as he turned to leave. I stood there for a moment and watched him walk to the end of the hallway, and then disappear around a corner.