Throwing Emotions

I met him the third day of college. He was sitting in the back of my pottery class, mashing some clay into a ball. He was beautiful. He had some stubble around his jaw and cheeks, but above his lip was a thin, brown mustache. I guessed him to be around 19. Old enough to grow a mustache, but too young to pull it off. He eyes flickered up to meet mine and my head shot down, clearly embarrassed. I quickly took the seat closest to me, which was a diagonal to him. I couldn’t pay attention all through-out the class.

One day five, I met him again. This time it was in the commons. He was lounging, watching some MTV show, folding the tip of his Vans up and down. He turned around and saw me looking at him. I quickly turned around and pretended like I was wondering where to get the keyboard for the computers they had. I nodded, shoved the ear buds of my iPod into my ears, then zoomed out of the game room, then the commons, and headed to my next class. When I looked behind me, he was following me.

On day seven, he was back in the pottery class. Although, he was sitting against the wall with a book in his hands. I looked away before he caught me staring, again, and got ready for the class.

“Why do you always look at me?”

I looked around the room, to see who the beautiful voice belonged to. It was creamy, yet rough. It had a sense of wisdom, but still had an air of youth. It was a contradiction. I turned to my right. He was looking right at me.

“What?”

“Why do you always look at me?” He said, kind of annoyed that he had to repeat himself in the almost empty room.

“I-I don’t.”

He marked his page and closed the book, “Whenever I see you, you’re looking at me.”

“Um, I don’t know.” I said lamely.

“Your shoe is untied.” He said harshly and went back to his book.

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I tried my best not to look at him from days nine to 15, although my eyes would wonder to him. There was just something about him. It drew me to him. Maybe it was his playful graphic tees, or his shaggy hair cut. Whatever it was, I was under his spell, and he knew it.

“You’re ruining your vase.” He said, not looking up from his cup he was throwing.

I jerked my head to see that I was in fact ruining my vase. It looked more like wilted flower than something that would hold one. I quietly cursed and began fixing it.

“What were you thinking about?”

“Nothing.” I said hastily, spinning the wheel faster.

“Thinking about me?” He asked smoothly, expertly sculpting his cup.

“I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

The room was silent, except for the sound of the radio and other people throwing whatever they were making. I moved my hair back with my forearm.

“You were.”

I turned around, “What’s you’re name?”

“Trevor.”

“Okay, Trevor. Stop talking.” I spun back around and began working on my vase.

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“Busy?” He asked after class.

I looked away from him, “Yes.”

“No you’re not. Come on.” He took my freshly washed wrist and led me out of the classroom.

We went down a flight of stairs, then to the left and out the doors. The cool December air hit me and I involuntarily shivered. He kept leading me through a grassy field and down another flight of stairs, into a meadow, I guess. Why was I following him? He could rape me.

“What are we doing?” I asked, taking my wrist back.

“I like to come here.” He said, sitting down in the grass.

I looked around. It was mostly dirt. There was a cross erected about 50 feet away from us, looking like it stood the test of time. Around it, ivy and other plants grew free. There was a mix of greens and browns, but what stood out was the purple flowers. I walked up to it and sniffed it. It didn’t have a distinct smell, it just smelled like the dirt underneath us. The flower was beautiful, in some dark way. It hung down, as if it was ashamed of being here. I think it was a Bluebell flower, but I’m no botanist. Trevor cleared his throat.

“When did you find this?” I asked, sitting next to him.

“The first day of college.”

I nodded, gazing of into the distance. His hand touched my exposed elbow and I turned my head towards him.

“Why do you really look at me?”

I turned my gaze towards the clear blue sky. It was unusually sunny for December around here, but I was happy. I wasn’t quite ready to part with the sun yet. I don’t know if this place freed all of my inhibitions, or if he did, but I didn’t really care.

“Because I think you’re beautiful.”

A smiled slowly crept onto his face and his teeth poked out. His hand moved from my elbow up to my shoulder, then over to my neck. His fingers danced around the base, then made their way up to my jaw bone. I fought to keep my eyes open.

“I’m glad you think so.” He whispered into my ear.

He leaned down and placed a kiss on my cheek then on the side of my lips. I opened my eyes when he pulled away. A frown appeared on my face. He smiled, once again, and then placed his lips on mine.

“You’re pretty cute too.”