I was even more surprised to see none other than Thorn Azarov behind the wheel, that predatory cat gaze hitting me right between the eyes.
Why was it that I always forgot how to breathe whenever in his presence? Or how my limbs were supposed to work? Of course I tripped all over my own two feet in front of him like a ninny.
I lifted my bag higher on my shoulder and pushed my hair back behind my ear, all while looking down at my feet.
When I picked my head back up, he was still there, with the same look, as if he’d not even blinked.
He made a slight lifting of the chin gesture towards the front door, as if to say go on inside, so I did. But I couldn’t resist taking one last look back over my shoulder.
I wish I had the nerve to walk over to that car window and demand the answers to my many questions, but instead, I fumbled the key in the door and only managed to drop them twice, before getting it right.
Too embarrassed to turn around, I flung myself through the door, dropped my bag and headed for the window on the side.
Maybe I’ll catch one last glimpse to tide me over until school tomorrow. I’ve now added pathetic to my repertoire.
He was already gone and I felt the loss like an open wound. Suddenly it felt like the sun had disappeared and the day had lost its color.
I spent way too much time going over the day’s events in my head over and over again.
Of course I hurriedly wrote it all down before I forgot just one little detail. When I started dawdling silly hearts with his name in the margins of the page I figured it was time to quit.
It was bittersweet recalling my every moment with him. I knew there was no way he would ever be mine, and just the thought of the loss, of what would never be, hurt my heart just a little.
I decided to put it out of my mind best I could and get on with my evening. It was nice while it lasted though.
I made dinner for my dad and I, which kept my mind occupied for a while. The ringing of the phone around seven that evening, after I’d finished my homework, was a bit of a surprise. I had no friends here and mom and dad contacted me on my cell.
“Hello?”
“Hey Jasmine, it’s Mark, you know, from today?”
“Uh...” What?
“Yeah, I got the number from the phone book, you know it’s the chief’s number and all so it’s listed. Anyway uh...some of us are going out on a picnic this weekend before the weather changes completely, and I was wondering if you’d you know, like to go with?”
“Um...” Shoot, what the heck was I supposed to say? I didn’t really have any interest in Mark, and I knew he didn’t really have any in me.
It was just the new girl thing, let’s see who can bag her first; but neither did I want to alienate anyone my first time here.
“Um, I’ll have to check with my dad and see if he has anything planned okay?”
I bit my lip feeling guilty for the lie, but it was the best I could do without coming right out and saying no thanks, not interested.
“Yeah okay, sure.”
He didn’t sound too thrilled, but he didn’t push it either. I hung up with the thought of why I’d really wanted to turn him down.
If I were honest with myself I would own up to holding out for the slight hope that one curly haired heartthrob was going to ask me out.
The ringing of the phone pulled me out of my reverie; my heart started doing its crazy dance again and I knew who was on the other end of the line. I picked up the receiver a bit hesitantly.
“Hello.”
“No.”
That’s it, that’s all the voice on the other end said before hanging up again; and how did I know whose voice it had been? Because my body true to form where he’s concerned, went into meltdown. I hung up the beeping phone two minutes later, after I’d come back to my senses.
***
Well, I guess Mr. Azarov has laid down the law; all that’s left now is to find a diplomatic way to let Mark down easy without hurting his feelings.
I’m not even going to question how he knew about the phone call, why bother? Nothing else has made any sense since I looked into my dream’s eyes.
I flitted around the empty house killing time until my dad came home, which should be any minute now.
Every five minutes or so I’d gravitate towards a window, in the hopes that beyond the drapes would be a silent Thorn Azarov keeping watch over my house.