Love Notes - By Heather Gunter Page 0,3
it, like a ritual. Music soothes the soul; at least it helps soothe mine.
Before I know it, time has flown and I’ve reached my destination, pulling into the senior parking lot. As soon as I park, I take a deep breath and exit my beloved Jeep. Shutting the door, I look around and see clusters of groups all over the parking lot. Every school is different. You generally have your skaters, preps, jocks with cheerleaders of course, nerds and over achievers. I also see a herd of rednecks, it’s Georgia after all.
You know that feeling that you’re being watched? You don’t have to have eyes in the back of your head to feel it. You just know. This is what I’m feeling the whole entire time and it has my nerves completely rattled.
I finally spot a huge building that says “Admissions Office” and walk over to it. I never received my class schedule and need to retrieve it. I hate not knowing what classes I have ahead of time. I’m desperately hoping that my schedule includes choir class. That may help me make some friends or at least make the transition a little easier for me.
As I’m walking into the building, I look down to readjust the strap of my back pack and smack directly into a person coming out of the door. Not only do I bump into this person, I fall and I fall hard! I tumble all the way straight down on my very padded ass. This was not the first impression I was going for. Without even looking up I feel mortified and am internally slapping myself for my stupidity. The instant that I look up I’m captivated by a set of perfectly bright blue eyes. I mean like bright blue, the kind of blue that reminds you of the ocean on a tropical vacation. Eyes I can’t help but get lost in. They’re almost magnetic. I quickly pray I don’t look like I’m gawking and instantly snap my mouth shut. I follow the eyes and look at the rest of him. He is by far the best looking guy I have ever seen! He has shiny dark hair and it’s such a contrast to his bright blue eyes. He has a beautiful face. All though something tells me he wouldn't like being called beautiful. The thought makes me giggle and almost makes this fall on my ass worth it. He’s broad shouldered and muscular and looks like he’s an athlete of some kind.
Suddenly, I snap out of my trance when I hear him ask me if I’m okay. As I’m attempting to speak, he reaches a hand down to help me up. I feel a rush of heat travel through me that causes goosebumps to pop up all over my arms. I don’t doubt that this reaction I’m having is solely based on my embarrassment as well as my lack of walking skills. Not to mention he’s very easy on the eye. Point for me in the klutz department and there goes that good first impression of me at my new school.
Fabulous.
As he’s helping me up, I realize he has spoken to me again and I still haven’t answered him just like the dumb ass I am. I look him in the eye and finally find the breath in me, “I’m sorry, I looked down for just a second and I wasn't watching where I was going and I’m just sorry.” I look up to see him looking at me and smiling.
“It’s not a problem. I make it a habit to pick up pretty girls up off of the floor.” He tosses me a wink and walks away.
If it's at all possible being called pretty just completely shocked the hell out of me. I have never been called pretty in my entire life. In my head I know I must be over analyzing things. I am questioning the whole “pretty” comment. Was he making fun of me or did he really mean it? I mentally tell myself to shut the hell up and that it had to be a slip of the tongue.
Because there is no way he thinks I’m pretty.
As much as I don’t want to admit it and as preposterous as it sounds, I could have sworn there was an instant zing when he helped me up.
Could he have felt it too?
That would be crazy though.
He is hot and I’m just not.
I brush my pants off, readjust my shirt and place my bag