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An hour later I sat in English Lit sketching and listening to my iPod when Sebastian entered, but instead of accompanying Kira, he was with Jim: the captain of the soccer team. I lowered my head before he could look my way, and busied myself with my drawing. Just seeing him had me feeling edgy, in a good way. Yes, I sported a healthy crush on Sebastian—a boy I didn't know at all. I bet his ink could tell me a lot about him, because being that covered so young, made me suspect what he had done held a great deal of meaning to him.
My head lifted when I felt his stare on me. Looking into those pools of turquoise caused a heat to sizzle all the way down my spine. Time seemed to stop for a moment as our gazes locked, but sooner than I wanted, his attention turned back to the front of the class. Was this what Sophia felt every time she fell in love—the nerves in her belly, the pounding of her heart in her chest, the overwhelming need to touch, taste and explore? If it was, I understood now why she “fell” so often. It was a heady feeling.
After class I waited until Sebastian left before I packed up my stuff and headed out into the hall. I hoped he would be there waiting for me, but when I stepped out into the crowded corridor, he was nowhere to be seen. Disappointment, and a bit of resentment, filled me as I started for my locker because it almost felt as if Sebastian was embarrassed by his interest in me: the only explanation I could think of as to why he didn't speak to me at school.
My oil canvas had already been placed on an easel when I arrived in art class. Because I was in the middle of a project, Ms. Whitney allowed me to work independently. My painting depicted our town square with the white steeple from the Baptist church surrounded by trees in my favorite earth tones: deep russet, goldenrod, burgundy and burnt orange. As I settled behind the easel, I slipped my ear buds in and listened to Yael Naim as I lost myself in my work.
Fifty minutes had passed quickly when Ms. Whitney touched my arm, signaling the end of class. I cleaned up my workspace and headed to lunch to meet the gang. They were already at our table when I entered. Shawn saw me and waved as I walked over and dropped my backpack on the floor.
“Hey guys.”
“Art class?” Sophia asked.
“Yeah. I’ll be right back.” I moved to the line right as Sebastian entered the cafeteria with Jim. His head was turned away from me, engaged in conversation with Jim, but, as if he could sense my presence, his shoulders tensed only seconds before his head turned and our eyes met. Was it possible that his body reacted to my nearness too? He didn't offer his customary grin but the expression on his face, one that read loud and clear he was interested, sent delicious little chills down my body. He passed by me, and I couldn't help glancing at him from over my shoulder only to see that he was walking backwards to keep his eyes completely on me. As you can probably guess, my body responded to his nearness. My damn knees went weak again. He stared at me hungrily and openly in the middle of the cafeteria with all those eyes watching, so maybe he wasn't embarrassed by his interest in me, because it wasn't possible for him to be any more obvious. His attention would most likely be short-lived though, but I planned to enjoy it while I had it.
My friends glared at me when I returned to our table.
“Is there something we don’t know?” Poppy asked as soon as I sat down.
“No.” Which wasn’t a lie and what little connection I did have with Sebastian, I wanted to keep all to myself.
“Well, that look he just gave you was not nothing.”
“Poppy, there is nothing going on.”
She reached for her cup of yogurt and her shoulders slumped. “I guess I just wish there was.”
You and me both. I said nothing and took a bite out of my apple.
All through lunch my eyes were drawn to the jock table where Sebastian sat. I wanted him to walk across the cafeteria, take my hand and lead me somewhere private. Wanted that so much that I was tempted to walk across the cafeteria to him, take his hand and leadhimsomewhere private.
After lunch I headed to my locker. As soon as I opened it, a note fell out. I unfolded the sheet of loose leaf paper to see a single line of masculine script that simply read:
I like email better than texting. [email protected]
For a few minutes I just stood there wondering how he knew which locker was mine before I folded up the note and stuck it in my back pocket. I grinned all the way to class.
***
Later that night I sat on my bed with my laptop and thought about what to write.
Hi Sebastian,
I like email better too. Is Bastian what your family calls you? My friends call me Lark. Are your sleeves the only tats you have? I’d really like to see them sometime. The little I've seen looks beautiful. I have been working on a design, but I haven’t settled on what exactly I want. Are you new to town or just school?
Lark
I realized it was kind of lame, as I sent it, but if I asked too many questions right out of the gate, he might have canceled his email account just to avoid my inquiring mind. A few minutes later, I received his reply.
Hey Lark, I like that.
No, my family calls me Sebastian, I just like Bastian better. I have another tat. I'll show it to you sometime. When you're ready to get your tat, I'll take you to my guy if you haven't got a place to go.I'll even find ways to keep you distracted while he's working.;-) I’ve heard you’re an artist. Maybe I could see some of your work?
What were you laughing about that first day in English Lit?
He heard I was an artist? Had he been asking around about me? I liked the thought of that. My face heated—how could I possibly tell him what I had been laughing at, way too revealing, so I chickened out and replied simply:Night Bastian.
***
