When my eyes meet his gaze as we're sitting here staring at each other, time stops. Those eyes are piercing mine, and I can swear at this moment he senses the real me. The one without the attitude, without the façade. Just Brittany.
"What would it take for you to go out with me?" he asks.
"You're not serious."
"Do I look like I'm jokin'?"
Mrs. Peterson wanders by us, saving me from answering. "I'm keeping my eyes on you two. Alex, we missed you last week. What happened?"
"I kinda fell onto a knife."
She shakes her head in disbelief, then moves away to harass other partners.
I look at Alex, wide-eyed. "A knife? You're kidding, right?"
"Nope. I was cuttin' a tomato, and wouldn't ya know the thing flung up and sliced my shoulder open. The doc stapled me back together. Wanna see?" he asks as he starts pulling up his sleeve.
I slap a hand over my eyes. "Alex, don't gross me out. And I don't believe for one second a knife flung out of your hand. You were in a knife fight."
"You never answered my question," he says, not admitting or denying my theory about his wound. "What would it take for you to go out with me?"
"Nothing. I wouldn't go out with you."
"I bet if we make out you'll change your mind."
"As if that'll ever happen."
"Your loss." Alex stretches his long legs in front of him, his chem book resting in his lap. He looks at me with chocolate brown eyes that are so intense I swear they could hypnotize someone. "You ready?" he asks.
For a nanosecond, as I'm staring into those dark eyes, I wonder what it would be like to kiss Alex. My gaze drops to his lips. For less than a nanosecond, I can almost feel them coming closer. Would his lips be hard on mine, or soft? Is he a slow kisser, or hungry and fast like his personality?
"For what?" I whisper as I lean closer.
"The project," he says. "Hand warmers. Peterson's class. Chemistry."
I shake my head, clearing all ridiculous thoughts from my overactive teenage mind. I must be sleep-deprived. "Yeah, hand warmers." I open my chem book.
"Brittany?"
"What?" I say, staring blindly at the words on the page. I have no clue what I'm reading because I'm too embarrassed to concentrate.
"You were lookin' at me like you wanted to kiss me."
I force a laugh. "Yeah, right," I say sarcastically.
"Nobody's watchin' if you want to, you know, try it. Not to brag, but I'm somewhat of an expert."
He gives me a lazy smile, one that was probably created to melt girls' hearts all over the globe.
"Alex, you're not my type." I need to tell him something to stop him from looking at me like he's planning to do things to me I've only heard about.
"You only like white guys?"
"Stop that," I say through gritted teeth.
"What?" he says, getting all serious. "It's the truth, ain't it?
"What would it take for you to go out with me?" he asks.
"You're not serious."
"Do I look like I'm jokin'?"
Mrs. Peterson wanders by us, saving me from answering. "I'm keeping my eyes on you two. Alex, we missed you last week. What happened?"
"I kinda fell onto a knife."
She shakes her head in disbelief, then moves away to harass other partners.
I look at Alex, wide-eyed. "A knife? You're kidding, right?"
"Nope. I was cuttin' a tomato, and wouldn't ya know the thing flung up and sliced my shoulder open. The doc stapled me back together. Wanna see?" he asks as he starts pulling up his sleeve.
I slap a hand over my eyes. "Alex, don't gross me out. And I don't believe for one second a knife flung out of your hand. You were in a knife fight."
"You never answered my question," he says, not admitting or denying my theory about his wound. "What would it take for you to go out with me?"
"Nothing. I wouldn't go out with you."
"I bet if we make out you'll change your mind."
"As if that'll ever happen."
"Your loss." Alex stretches his long legs in front of him, his chem book resting in his lap. He looks at me with chocolate brown eyes that are so intense I swear they could hypnotize someone. "You ready?" he asks.
For a nanosecond, as I'm staring into those dark eyes, I wonder what it would be like to kiss Alex. My gaze drops to his lips. For less than a nanosecond, I can almost feel them coming closer. Would his lips be hard on mine, or soft? Is he a slow kisser, or hungry and fast like his personality?
"For what?" I whisper as I lean closer.
"The project," he says. "Hand warmers. Peterson's class. Chemistry."
I shake my head, clearing all ridiculous thoughts from my overactive teenage mind. I must be sleep-deprived. "Yeah, hand warmers." I open my chem book.
"Brittany?"
"What?" I say, staring blindly at the words on the page. I have no clue what I'm reading because I'm too embarrassed to concentrate.
"You were lookin' at me like you wanted to kiss me."
I force a laugh. "Yeah, right," I say sarcastically.
"Nobody's watchin' if you want to, you know, try it. Not to brag, but I'm somewhat of an expert."
He gives me a lazy smile, one that was probably created to melt girls' hearts all over the globe.
"Alex, you're not my type." I need to tell him something to stop him from looking at me like he's planning to do things to me I've only heard about.
"You only like white guys?"
"Stop that," I say through gritted teeth.
"What?" he says, getting all serious. "It's the truth, ain't it?
( Simone Elkeles )
[ Perfect Chemistry ]
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