with me. I’m not usually so gullible.
“I don’t know if I’d say that.” I flash my best flirting smile.
I’m rewarded; he looks shocked. “Thanks.” He takes what he assumes to be a compliment graciously.
Too graciously, it turns out. Now it’s my turn to dish it back. “He looked pretty smart, too.” I wink and smile wickedly.
“Wow, you really know how to wound a guy’s ego. Here I thought we were getting along so well.”
“Seriously … you don’t give yourself enough credit.” Did I just say that out loud? My face is instantly hot again. I quickly look away.
He’s staring at me, like the Cheshire cat, a huge, satisfied grin on his face. “Shall we go? The bell’s about to ring.” He’s definitely smug as we walk back to our lockers.
As we open our lockers he calls down to me, “So, where’s study hall? If you tell me I’m sure I can find it on my own. I don’t want to make you late again.” Though this could be interpreted as a way to escape me, his voice is filled with concern instead.
“No, I’ll walk with you. I don’t mind.” I sound a little too eager, and he likes it. “I have study hall this period, too.”
Study hall is held in the cafeteria, as real estate seems to be in short supply. There aren’t any extra classrooms this semester. It seems staffing is also in short supply. Mrs. Campbell, the office assistant, comes in to take roll when we arrive and peeks in the door once or twice during the hour, I guess to make sure we’re all still here. Dimitri and I have the table to ourselves. We sit quietly across from each other. I’m reviewing the notes I took earlier in Psych and English. I don’t remember even writing half of it down, let alone hearing it. Wow, was I distracted or what? The frustrations of the morning are a distant memory now and seem so silly.
Of course, my close proximity to Dimitri means I’m still distracted and I’m not retaining anything that I’m reading … again. It didn’t mean anything when I wrote it down this morning and it still doesn’t mean anything now. He’s proving detrimental to my education. I catch myself peeking up and stealing glances across the table, hoping he won’t catch me. Though I never make eye contact I notice a smile emerge on his face each time and I look back down at my book. I guess I’m not as sneaky as I think I am. He spends the entire hour reading a car magazine. Though it’s incredibly hard to resist being bossy and telling him he should be studying, I do. I’m very pleased with myself when the bell rings.
“What’s your last class, ma’am?” he sounds very official.
“Weightlifting.”
“No, seriously. What’s your next class?”
His disbelief should be insulting, but I laugh it off. “Weightlifting. In a month or two I’ll have to start charging you admission to the gun show.”
That brings on a snort of laughter. “I’d like to see that. Then again, I have no doubt you are tougher than half the guys in there.” He’s shaking his head.
“I had to be tough growing up. My best friends were all guys and they took no mercy on me.”
He opens the door for me and we walk back out into the courtyard.
“Thank you. You know … you’re kind of a gentleman.” I compliment.
“I’m old-school.” He winks and smiles warmly. He points toward the gym. “Now, off to weightlifting, Hercules.”
“Ha. Ha,” I deadpan. “I need to get you to class first … I’m obligated. What’s your last class?” I’ve finally learned it’s better to just ask Mr. Super Memory than go digging through my bag for his schedule.
“English, but I can find it.” He tries out his best Veronica voice impersonation, “English wing is right next to the science wing.” It’s surprisingly not bad. “You provided a very informative and memorable tour this morning,” a touch of sarcasm there at the end.
“That was
very
Veronica, I’m impressed. Do I really have that strange accent thing going
“I don’t know if I’d say that.” I flash my best flirting smile.
I’m rewarded; he looks shocked. “Thanks.” He takes what he assumes to be a compliment graciously.
Too graciously, it turns out. Now it’s my turn to dish it back. “He looked pretty smart, too.” I wink and smile wickedly.
“Wow, you really know how to wound a guy’s ego. Here I thought we were getting along so well.”
“Seriously … you don’t give yourself enough credit.” Did I just say that out loud? My face is instantly hot again. I quickly look away.
He’s staring at me, like the Cheshire cat, a huge, satisfied grin on his face. “Shall we go? The bell’s about to ring.” He’s definitely smug as we walk back to our lockers.
As we open our lockers he calls down to me, “So, where’s study hall? If you tell me I’m sure I can find it on my own. I don’t want to make you late again.” Though this could be interpreted as a way to escape me, his voice is filled with concern instead.
“No, I’ll walk with you. I don’t mind.” I sound a little too eager, and he likes it. “I have study hall this period, too.”
Study hall is held in the cafeteria, as real estate seems to be in short supply. There aren’t any extra classrooms this semester. It seems staffing is also in short supply. Mrs. Campbell, the office assistant, comes in to take roll when we arrive and peeks in the door once or twice during the hour, I guess to make sure we’re all still here. Dimitri and I have the table to ourselves. We sit quietly across from each other. I’m reviewing the notes I took earlier in Psych and English. I don’t remember even writing half of it down, let alone hearing it. Wow, was I distracted or what? The frustrations of the morning are a distant memory now and seem so silly.
Of course, my close proximity to Dimitri means I’m still distracted and I’m not retaining anything that I’m reading … again. It didn’t mean anything when I wrote it down this morning and it still doesn’t mean anything now. He’s proving detrimental to my education. I catch myself peeking up and stealing glances across the table, hoping he won’t catch me. Though I never make eye contact I notice a smile emerge on his face each time and I look back down at my book. I guess I’m not as sneaky as I think I am. He spends the entire hour reading a car magazine. Though it’s incredibly hard to resist being bossy and telling him he should be studying, I do. I’m very pleased with myself when the bell rings.
“What’s your last class, ma’am?” he sounds very official.
“Weightlifting.”
“No, seriously. What’s your next class?”
His disbelief should be insulting, but I laugh it off. “Weightlifting. In a month or two I’ll have to start charging you admission to the gun show.”
That brings on a snort of laughter. “I’d like to see that. Then again, I have no doubt you are tougher than half the guys in there.” He’s shaking his head.
“I had to be tough growing up. My best friends were all guys and they took no mercy on me.”
He opens the door for me and we walk back out into the courtyard.
“Thank you. You know … you’re kind of a gentleman.” I compliment.
“I’m old-school.” He winks and smiles warmly. He points toward the gym. “Now, off to weightlifting, Hercules.”
“Ha. Ha,” I deadpan. “I need to get you to class first … I’m obligated. What’s your last class?” I’ve finally learned it’s better to just ask Mr. Super Memory than go digging through my bag for his schedule.
“English, but I can find it.” He tries out his best Veronica voice impersonation, “English wing is right next to the science wing.” It’s surprisingly not bad. “You provided a very informative and memorable tour this morning,” a touch of sarcasm there at the end.
“That was
very
Veronica, I’m impressed. Do I really have that strange accent thing going
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