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‘Cause she's bittersweet
She knocks me off of my feet
And I can't help myself
I don't want anyone else
She's a mystery
She's too much for me
But I keep coming back for more
She's just the girl I'm looking for
- Just the Girl, The Click Five
I sometimes wondered, as all teenagers do, if there was something wrong with me.
We sat on the couch on Friday nights in our mismatched pajama sets, passing around bags of popcorn, and pretended that we just thought the actors on should there be a space here? screen were cute.
Brad Pitt’s abdomen made me blush
“How do you know his birthday’s in January?” one girl wanted to know.
“He told me,” Loren said smugly, and the group sighed, a collective, jealous exhalation.
So I enjoyed throwing off the glamorous speculations with invented ones of my own, but they were all harmless, and usually so silly no one believed me, until the day I needed revenge.
The paper slipped from my hands when one of the freshmen bumped into me as she sprinted to class, and slid down the hallway, settling on top of Connor Stone’s shoe.
And within the space of fifteen seconds, Connor Stone managed to destroy my Calculus homework and five hours’ worth of hard labor.
“Nah, more like first eight. After that I just get bored. Better things to do.”
“And history, and Calculus, in about thirty seconds.”
I watched her drive away, windows down, the wind grabbing at strands of her dark ponytail.
The sun reflected off her rearview mirror as she turned into the street, and mockingly, winked.
Heat rushed to my face. “I wasn’t doing anything wrong,” I said.
“Cool.” He slipped a book off the nearest shelf and flipped through it without reading any of it, then put it back in the wrong place.
“I don’t think so.” I snapped the binder shut and moved his elbow off my backpack, intending to replace the binder and save the studying for later.
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