Page 26 of This I Know
Good. I hope he feels bad. That hurt, although I admit it: it hurt emotionally more than physically.
With the aid of his hand, I start to rise to my feet. When I’m half way there and clumsily trying to collect my balance, I glance up and catch a clear view of inside the classroom. My worst fears are confirmed. Everyone’s watching us. Watchingme,more specifically. Including Ethan. In fact, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say it seems like he’s watching the most out of everyone. The look on his face is one of pure concern, so much so that I half expect him to leap out of his seat and come to my rescue.
“Are you okay?” John goes on. “You were totally invisible there.” He holds my waist in support and asks again, a bit panicky this time due to my lack of response, “Are you okay?”
I touch a spot on the side of my cheek and nod. “I’m okay.”
John’s still trying to help when I brush him off and hurry to my seat. I don’t mean to be rude, but my eyes are starting to burn and I want this to be over with.
The quickest route to my seat just so happens to involve walking past Ethan, and so I do, as quickly as I can, all the while feeling like I want to jump out of my skin. Everything I once took for granted about him not noticing me – that whole luxury of invisibility thing – is gone. He watched me fall, he watched me as I walked in, and he’s watching me rush to my seat of shame. In fact, I’m pretty sure that if I were to look at him now, he’d hold my eyes a lot longer than necessary. So I do it. Somehow, with the burn still in my eyes and a tightness still in my throat, I gather the courage to look at him.
Yep. He’s looking right at me. And God, he’s even hotter than I thought. His eyes are the deepest brown I’ve ever seen. His jaw is chiseled well beyond what you’d expect from a high school boy, and his hair falls in perfectly waves.
I’m not smiling at him and he’s not smiling at me. I’m looking straight in his eyes as if to save some sort of face. To say,Yes, I see you watching me.
That’s the message I’m going for.
He doesn’t break away. His face is soft. The messagehe’sgoing for isI hope you’re not hurt.
No, but seriously. If I could really read minds, that’s the conclusion I’d draw right now; his eyes are full of concern, and his expression remains serious. I can only hope that as I’m holding his gaze, I don’t have a bruised face. That would be the icing on the cake, wouldn’t it? Bruised-faced, clumsy Avery staring down her crush.
I’m actually proud of myself. I just did something good. Who does he think he is? Doesn’t he know it’s rude to stare? You can’t just stare at people without any regard for their feelings. Even if those feelings do just so happen to involve flirty little butterflies in my stomach.
Those butterflies aren’t controlling me, though. Not this time; not like with Cole. You know how they say the best remedy for a broken heart is to shift your interest onto someone else? Well, the handsome guy I just passed might have something to do with my lack of Cole-thoughts.
I’m almost to the safety of my seat. Most everyone has moved on, casually watching Mr. Miller work his magic at the front of the room, but I take a deep breath. That was bad, but it’s nothing I haven’t conquered before. I can do this. I can brush this off. I just need to keep repeating my mantra: schoolwork and healing. Healing. Healing. Nothing else. No Cole, no Ethan. No boys.
If only he wasn’t so cute.
And toned.
And so damn handsome in every possible way.
I slump down into my chair. John thought I was invisible, huh? That’s funny. It’s funny how by becoming invisible, just like I’ve wanted, it backfires and I become the center of attention.
I feel my face again. My check is a little swollen and hot to the touch, but it’s not too bad. The whole ordeal started me more than anything. I really am okay.
But at the same time … I’m totally not.
I get through the rest of class in a flurry of note-jotting. Mr. Miller stamps a pile of paper against his desk. “That’s it, everyone. You’re good to go.”
Great. I’m just going to sit here and wait for everyone to leave.
He’s coming over.
He’sactuallycoming over.
“Hey,” he says.
His voice is rough and deep and feels like sweetness through my ears.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I say, fumbling around. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”
“Good. ‘Cause that was a pretty rough hit.”
I meet his eyes, only for a moment before flicking them away. “It’s nothing I haven’t been through before.” If only he knew the real weight of those words.
