Page 44 of This I Know
That gets my attention. He did?
He continues, “And you’re welcome.”
“You’re welcome?” I say, confused.
“That is why you came over here, isn’t it? To say thank you?”
“It would have been, before you said you were glad that I fell and made a royal ass out of myself twice in one day.”
He reaches around and grabs the drink. He pops the top. “You didn’t fall, remember?”
So Ethan Harrington is a showman with a cocky front, who in a rare moment may allow a kind gesture to shine through. Okay.
He takes a long, obnoxious swig and he peers at me, his dark eyes shining from the sides of the can. If he didn’t have that thing in front of his perfect face, I’m sure I’d be able to see his smile. Maybe even that same smile he gave me a few minutes ago, before leaving so abruptly in a way that left me wanting more of it.
Stop it, Avery. Stop it.
Remember, the boy’s a player. He’s kind of being a dick.
He removes the can of soda from his mouth, and I was right – he’s smiling. Except it’s not the same affectionate smile I just received; it’s a cocky, adorable smile that sayswhat have you got next?
And truthfully, I have nothing left. No more clever or witty statements, nothing left to impress him or counter all his responses that he somehow manages to weave perfectly. He’s melted me.
“Well, you’re right,” I say at last. I hope the meekness in my voice isn’t too obvious. “I do owe you a thanks. So thanks.”
Without hesitation, he says, “You’re welcome.”
He’s still holding the can, and he still has one hand in his pocket. His friends have got to be nearby. I would have thought they’d have been at this table he brought me to, but it’s empty, and no one around us is watching our interaction. Which is odd, because everyone in this school is usually up in everybody’s business – especially the business of their friends. He’s alone with me. And I would be, too, if it weren’t for Mara, who I see from a distance watching us. I did catch her eye. She has an amused look on her face and occasionally leans over to giggle with Camille.
There’s more I want to say to him; I would love to know why he stayed when he owed me nothing, and if we could please never do this again. But I’ve said my peace, and now he knows: Iamthankful. I’m thankful that he helped me when all others were rude and heartless; even Brendan, who left me without reason even when I’d been helping him. That still hurts, and I plan to let him know when I next see him.
So I guess that’s it. I readjust my purse on my shoulder, hoisting it with one hand and clutching the strap with the other. Then, I turn to leave. Just as I do, he grabs me.
Okay, he doesn’t grab me. He clutches me, and gently, as if I’m something that might break. Still, it’s something I wasn’t expecting, and so it catches me by surprise. I gasp; my heart skips a beat and I spin around. My breath increases. The look on his face is one of surprise himself, so I’m betting he heard me gasp.
He releases me and doesn’t say anything to explain his actions. Isn’t that just like this kid, to give me nothing to go on?
He slowly bends down, his knees buckling beneath him. When he reaches the level of my knees I swallow hard.
What’s he doing?
He’s inches from my scar. I look around. Still, no one seems to be watching. I get lost in his closeness and the steady hum of my classmates’ voices. He reaches out both hands and completely bypasses my scar. He lifts up the bottom of my yoga pants, only a few inches to expose the fresh scrape on my knee. He runs his thumb near it with careful delicacy. He blows on it.
A chill runs through me.
Then, his thumb slides further, toward my scar.
I pull my leg away. I reach down and stretch the fabric down as far as it will go, my purse falling over my shoulder as I do and landing on the ground with a thud.
He’s still on the ground, looking up at me with his elbow resting casually on one knee. I walk away. I don’t want to – what he just did felt so caring and so sensitive and so right in every way, even despite its intrusiveness, but I couldn’t take it anymore.
I couldn’t takehimanymore. Only five minutes in that boy’s presence and things were so intense that I couldn’t do it.
As I walk, my strides long and steady in a hurry to return to where I came from, I take one look back. He’s still there, watching me. He’s since stood and now turns to pick his drink back up, all while keeping his eyes locked on me with a magnetism that we both share.
I’d notice you,he’d said. Like it was nothing. Like I shouldn’t be surprised.
I reach my table and sit, not daring to look back again to see if he’s still watching me. Mara saw most of that; she knows better than to say anything to me right now. I’m sure she can tell from the look on my face that the best thing for me right now is to be left alone to process this, but she still speaks up.
