He was staring at her again.
He seemed to do that a lot lately. In class while she absently sketches caricatures of their loony excuse for a teacher. In the hallways as he waits for her to finish getting her books from her locker. During band practice when everyone is busy warming up and he thinks no one notices.
Oh, but she noticed. She definitely noticed.
And she ignored it…for the first couple of times. She always got a lot of weird stares from people anyway, what with the fading red streaks on her hair and her obvious punk's-not-dead fashion. Performing onstage for seven years, it would be a major understatement to say that she was used to attention.
She's not used getting it from him though. They've know each other for, oh say…forever,and he never gave her that much attention. Except maybe when he mocks her love for Incubus, saying that she only listens to them because she was crushing on Brandon Boyd. She would tell him every time that she listens to Incubus because they have the most kick-ass bass player. Brandon Boyd is so not her type.
She's definitely was not used to him stuttering. He wasn't shy. Well…okay, he was when he's around strangers, but not with her. Hello, she's seen his baby pictures. She knew him when he still thought that the Barney were the coolest thing since shaggy hair. Quiet as he may be with other people, he had no problem stealing fries from her plate, or making faces with her when they got bored. He had no problem letting her walk the rest of the two blocks to her house alone, just because his house was nearer. So whatever it was that he wanted to ask her (which he never got around to asking by the way), he had no reasons to stutter.
Nope, she wasn't used to any of that at all.
So she thought she was just imagining things and blamed it on…the weather? It was nearly summertime, and she could only take so much of the rising temperature. Or maybe it was boredom. A bit unoriginal, but believable. She did live a terribly unexciting life.
It was difficult to keep it all to herself; she needed to talk to someone. She had wanted to talk to Summer, but the manageress was too busy with boy problems of her own. ("Who? No. He can't like me.He hates me! It's unheard of! No, I do not think he's cute. Not even a little. Okay, maybe a little, but still.").
So she told Tomika. She figured the soft-spoken diva was a safe choice; she knew anybody else would squeal and find her little plight adorable. Insert eyeroll here.
Apparently, Tomika supposes that he might have stopped seeing her as his childhood buddy and started to see her as a girl...or a potential girlfriend. They were both sixteen and single, Tomika reasoned, it wasn't impossible.
This made her blush, because it brought back…err…memories, of a certain crush she had for the boy in question. Hey, it was a long time ago and he was the most oblivious guy on the effing universe.He wouldn't have caught on even if she stripped naked in front of him and danced the Chicken with I Like You Damn It! tattooed on her ass with bright orange ink.
She forgot about it eventually. The more time passed, the more absurd the idea became. Now, however, hooking up with him didn't sound so bad…
She paused from tuning her bass to glance at his reflection, a faint image on the dirty glass window, just to make certain, to be absolutely sure she wasn't just imagining things this time.
He was staring.
He was fiddling with his instrument, his plain black shirt hanging awkwardly to his lanky frame. He was trying to hide behind his dark hair, but she could see his eyes. She was pretty sure that it wasn't the Jack Skellington embroidery on the back of her shirt that he was staring at. And throughout practice, they kept wandering in her direction. She can't deny that fact.
And when practice ended (the last for this week), everyone else went ahead with plans of their own or dates to get to. She noted with a smirk that their manager left with a certain blond who was now carrying the bookbag that nobody was allowed to touch). Only one other person stayed behind waiting for her.
His guitar was packed away in its case, yet he stood there, fidgeting so badly like he just had a shot of caffeine. Intravenously.
The fidgeting went away as they walked past the old Chinese restaurant on the way home. As they engaged themselves in a heated debate on the differences of Fenders and Gibsons, it seemed for a moment that everything was back to normal.
It came as a surprise when he reached out and slowly, almost experimentally, took her hand in his. His hand was warm and rough, but somewhat comforting. But like she said, she wasn't used to this kind of attention from him. Last time he did this, he made her hold a fake spider. Her scream could've woken the dead…or startled Ned Schneebly.
She drew her hand away.
"What are you doing?" she asked, a bit accusatory.
"Easy, sheesh. I just want to walk you home." He looked embarrassed, if not a smidge hurt. She relaxed, relieved that no fake arachnids were involved.
"There's a new development," she said. "You never walk me home."
He colored visibly under the streetlights but his gaze flicked upward to meet hers. She decided that she didn't mind the stares much, not when it came from such soft eyes. She held back a smile, finding his discomfort rather endearing.
"I intend to do it everyday now," he shrugged, shifting the guitar case on his shoulder. "If you're cool with that."
She just couldn't help smiling anymore. He smiled back, silently offering to take her hand again.
This time, she let him.
Heh. Drabbles. I haven't written anything in a while but this basically wrote itself. Mind-numbing lectures get my creative side going, apparently. First KatieZack fic ever. I don't really know what to make of it. I think its kinda cute. Nothing so elaborate, but I like it. Tell me if you do too.:D
Review? Yes please!