Deranged
He was a handsome lad of about nineteen. He was muscular, his hair had a perfect healthy shine, his blue eyes glowed expectantly, his smile was magnetic, his skin was like porcelain, and he spoke with a fairly light Irish accent. He was also completely egotistical and arrogant. Alaina knew this and she hated seeing her friends fall into his siren like trap of being able to play guitar. She knew so many of those people, being a guitarist herself, who picked up the instrument just for attention. He was no rock star, she fumed, he was a “wannabe.”
What equally annoyed her was his ability to pass a class with seemingly no effort. She didn’t know how he did it and wondered how many people he had paid to get his work done. At the rate he was going, he would be valedictorian of his class by the time he graduated while she would end up at the bottom of the heap.
She hated him for his easygoing nature and seeming laziness. She worked hard and she hated that he got everything he wanted without a quarter of the work. She wished she had what he did and she would have been less jealous and liked him a little bit more if he was humble. But while he was blessed with many things, he was not blessed with integrity and it made her skin crawl to think about him.
Which was why her mind was utterly blank at the moment and she felt the color drain from her pale face. Her mouth was dry and she fought against flapping it open and closed as if the words would come out all the while looking like a deranged baby bird. Her hands were sweating and she realized she looked like a bad horror movie extra as she stared at him wide-eyed, her mouth metaphorically nailed shut and leaning forward in disbelief.
He laughed nervously. “Is that a yes?”
She stared at him, something bubbling in her stomach. He had asked her on a date. She hated him, so why was the first thing coming to her mind a “yes”? She leaned back against the wall trying to get the painful feel of dry saliva out of her mouth. She swallowed.
“Sure,” she said. She felt herself mentally kicking herself and the bubbling in her stomach turn into a large rock. Now, why did you do that? she asked herself. Are you out of your bloody mind? What in the nine hells has gotten into you?
I don’t know, she thought, but you’d better shut up. He smiled his magnetic smile and her stomach tightened. She felt herself smiling back.
“Great! I’ll see you Friday night right here. Have a good day,” he waved as he walked away.
“See ya!” You sly Cassanova; once and only once. I will never go on a date with you again.
Damn, she thought shaking her light head and walking towards the lecture hall. What has gotten into you? Oh well, at least you’ve got a date with Micheal Brady!
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