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The Phone Number
My heart skipped a beat when I saw
him strutting down the hall. There was nothing else to call it but strutting.
He had an air about him like he owned the world, that hallway and everyone who
dared to walk down it around him. The half grin on his face showcased his
dimples and hinted at a bad-boy attitude behind his mischievous eyes. The few
girls that accompanied him every day, which I enjoyed referring to as his
Freshman Fan Club, surrounded him in a cloud of giggles and longing stares, all
waiting for the usual smile and wink before he headed into the classroom.
Though I always snickered as his fan club scurried by, all whispering excitedly
about his shirt or cologne or other minute detail they obsessed about after his
departure, secretly I was intrigued. While I was usually never drawn in by
someone so cocky, I found myself watching him, wondering what it was like to
possess that much confidence.
I stood after his fan club passed,
hefting my pile of books into my arms and weaving my way through the crowded
classroom to my desk in the back of the room. Dropping my books on my desk with
a loud thud, I looked up and noticed him staring at me and quickly looked away,
fumbling to log into my computer so I had something else to focus on. His winks
wouldn’t win me over. I’m not that naïve
I thought stubbornly as I typed in my password wrong. Twice. Shit.
Ms. Lane strode to the front of the classroom and began instructing
us on a new process in Illustrator, and I squinted my eyes, determined to keep
my attention solely on what she was saying. Suddenly my computer dinged loudly
and a little message box popped up in the bottom of my screen. I jumped, almost
falling out of my chair, and grinned quickly at Ms. Lane, “Sorry. I clicked the
wrong place.” I blurted nervously as I heard snickering from across the room.
Snapping my head up, I noticed him stifling a laugh and peering at me from his
desk on the opposite side of the classroom. Narrowing my eyes, I shot him my
best evil eye and glanced at my screen. The little box flashed urgently in the
bottom corner, the messenger impatient.
Hi. ;)
Oh god. He wrote to me. My mind stopped and I could feel my facial expression softening.
Determined to maintain my air of indifference, I closed the message box and
flipped open my textbook, staring at the page as if it were the most
interesting thing I had ever seen. My computer dinged again, seemingly even
louder than the first time, and Ms. Lane stopped midsentence, shooting me a narrow-eyed
look.
“Is there something you need?” she inquired sharply, looking
annoyed.
“No. I’m so sorry. This computer…” I trailed off, clicking
around on my screen like I was lost and hoping the people in the row behind me
wouldn’t give me away. Another message box sat blinking in the bottom corner.
Hi. ;) What’s up?
This guy was impossible. Ms. Lane began talking again, turning
away to face the board as I typed as quietly as possible. Two could play this
game.
Hi. :)
His computer dinged and I laughed under my breath, pretending to
be working on a project as Ms. Lane’s eyes scanned the room for the offender.
As I muted my computer I saw him reach down and do the same, and Ms. Lane
muttered something about detention and carried on with her lesson, turning to
write on the whiteboard behind her.
So, what’s up?
I wracked my brain, trying to come up with something witty and
indifferent to write back.
Nothin. Bored.
Wow. Really blew him away
with that amazing response I thought, silently
cursing myself for lacking any game whatsoever and trying to catch what Ms.
Lane was discussing now.
Me too. We should hang out
sometime. You should call me.
Wait. Had I stepped into some twilight zone? My lame response
inspired him to want to chat and hang out more? This had to be some kind of
prank. Before I could process any more, my screen started to blink again,
another message waiting at the bottom of my screen. I looked up and he was
watching me from his seat, that cocky half-grin settled on his lips again.
Write down your number and
give it to me at the end of class.
Suddenly a light-bulb came on and a smile slowly spread across
my face like the Grinch. Oh, I could give him my phone number. I mean, he was
obviously so suave that he deserved it, right, so why not? Smirking, I ripped a
half sheet of paper from my notebook and scribbled my name then, carefully,
underneath: 1-800-you-wish. I quickly folded up the piece of paper, stifling
full on laughter at this point, and jumped up as the end-of class bell rang
loudly. Slipping past him I sauntered slowly down the hall with a smirk on my
face, knowing I had won. He came up beside me and I plastered a smile on my
face and handed him the folded up piece of paper.
“Can’t wait to hear from you.” I said as I slid the piece of
paper into his palm, purposely allowing my fingers to linger on his for a few
extra moments. His half-grin reappeared and he looked pleased with himself as
he stood there, watching me strut away down the hall.
Peace & Love
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