Let's Just Pretend Nothing Happened at All

Two months now.

Two long months and these people are still referring to me as the new girl; if they notice me that is.

Usually, if I'm lucky, I can go my day unnoticed.

Today I wasn't so fortunate.

And I knew that the second I noticed Tommy Everhart walking towards my table in art class. I might have assumed he was coming over to talk to one of his many friends, had anyone sat by me. But, like I said, people seemed to shy away from me.

I didn't understand what it was people didn't like about me. I wasn't the type of person to talk crap or spread rumors about other students I didn't like. I showered daily. And I looked completely normal, at least I thought so, with my straight, shoulder length dark brown hair, caramel colored eyes hidden behind a pair of thin rimmed glasses and my short 5'4" frame. Although this week I had gained an ace bandage on my left wrist, but as far as they knew, I had tripped. But aren't we all clumsy?

I glanced back up at Tommy from the painting I was working on, hoping he had shifted directions or something to sit with someone, only to see him pulling the seat out across from me and sitting down in it, a cheesy grin on his lips.

I immediately glared at him, silently wishing he'd just go back to his proper seat across the room from me.

From day one, Tommy and I had clashed. At least, I had clashed with him. Until meeting him, I had never met a person so full of themselves, hitting on any living thing in sight, and constantly boasting about himself.

Every school has a Tommy Everhart; the trouble making class clown. You know, girls want him, guys envy him, and teachers want to kill him.

"Good afternoon, Adalae," he said formally in his luring voice. He brushed some of his hazel hair from his face, his bright blue eyes boring into my own expectantly. Realizing I was not intent on responding to him, he resumed talking. "Are you busy today after school?"

How could he sound so hopeful? Why would he, after I continuously turned him down, proceed to ask me out? And how did I find the will to deny that beautiful face?

Oh, that's right. That beautiful face is completely full of itself.

Still, it was a wonder to me each time he asked me out. At first, I was positive he was just joking. By now, I wasn't even sure of him anymore. I just gave up on trying to understand him.

"I am, actually," I lied nonchalantly, bringing the paintbrush and my eyes back down to the sunset I had been painting before Tommy decided to join me.

"Playing hard to get again, are we Ms. Sommers?" he asked rhetorically, a devious smirk plastered on his tempting lips. "I normally don't try so hard to get someone like this, but you have me determined."

I looked back up at him, disgust and incredulity on my face.

"What - determined to screw me so you can cross me off your list and move onto the next girl?" I said, not particularly caring if I hurt his feelings.

Maybe I was hitting below the belt by saying that, but I didn't actually care at the moment. I just wanted to hurt him so he'd leave me alone.

But, of course, I never get my way.

"Adalae, I don't have a list." Alright, not the point I was trying to make. I opened my mouth to tell him just to leave, but he cut me off. "I actually like you," he said quietly, my eyes widening at the last part.

No one had actually told me they had feelings for me, even if they were just minor feelings, as I'm sure his were.

His eyes were still penetrating mine, waiting for me to respond to his declaration.

"What do you expect me to say to that? 'OhmyGod! Then we should like totally go out! I can't believe I've been turning you down all this time, I mean, you actually like me!'?" I asked, faking an over-excited, bubbly voice, thankful of all the other loud voices in the classroom.

He smiled admirably, his humor coming back.

"Yeah, that's good enough for me."

I groaned exasperatedly. This guy just couldn't leave me alone. Annoyed, and not really thinking, I stuck the bristles of my paintbrush in the blood red paint and then wiped it on his cheek - just as our teacher, Mrs. Harrison, decided to walk by.

Just my luck.

"Ms. Sommers, Mr. Everhart, clean-up duty after school until five," she said in her man voice. Mrs. Harrison was a very forward kind of person. She didn't ask for explanations in situations like this, she simply told you your punishment. And her number one rule was 'no screwing around in the art room', the consequence being two hours after school of cleaning said art room. Alone; she had a life. Which meant two hours alone with Tommy. Fun.

As Mrs. Harrison walked away, I glowered at Tommy, watching as he winked at me and rose to his feet, walking swiftly to the sink.

He was looking forward to our 'detention,' I was sure of it.

--- --- --- --- ---

My right hand gripped the doorknob, unwillingly pulling it open. I had been dreading this moment for nearly two hours now, when I carelessly 'screwed around the art room.'

I walked into the empty classroom, the mess from the previous class still dispersed around the room. A note, taped to the white board, caught my eye. I made my way towards it, reading it to myself once I was about a foot away.

You two know what to do. I'm going to trust you to stay until five,
or until you've cleaned to whole room. Hopefully, you've learned your lesson
and won't horse around my classroom again.
-Mrs. Harrison

Just as I finished reading the note, I felt two warm hands cover my eyes from behind.

"Guess who," they whispered in their appealing voice, hot breath floating on the skin of my neck teasingly.

"Mrs. Harrison," I answered almost bitterly, their hands immediately releasing my face, only to grab my forearms so they could turn me to face them.

"You're upset," he noticed, staring intently at me.

"Yep," I said. No sense in denying it. He already guessed it by my voice.

"Because you put paint on me?" Tommy asked, his voice bewildered. "Shouldn't I be the one upset?"

"Look, let's just get to work. I'm really not in the mood right now." I brushed his hands off of me and walked to the sink, grabbing a handful of dirty paintbrushes and throwing them in. Just as I was about to turn the water on, I stopped, remembering that I couldn't get the bandage on my wrist wet.

"I'll rinse, you dry," he answered my thoughts. I moved aside so he could use the sink and grabbed a towel.

"So what happened?" he asked conversationally, referring to my arm as he washed the paint out of the brushes.

"I fell," I replied immediately, too quickly. He glanced at me with furrowed eyebrows.

"Fell, huh? Is that what you're telling everyone?"

I glared down at the towel as I dried the paintbrush he'd just handed me. Why did his voice sound so. . .knowing?

"What do you care?" I mumbled, drying the brush too fiercely - water flew out of the bristles and attacked my face. Cursing under my breath, I grabbed a paper towel and took my glasses off, trying to ignore the fact that Tommy had shut the faucet off and was watching me as I dried my glasses.

"Addie, I care about you," he said seriously. I quickly looked at him, surprised. He was the first one to call me Addie in the two months I lived here. And the first to tell me they cared, period. I liked it. He brought his hand to my cheek, gently wiping away some water I missed before continuing.

"I mean, I barely know you, but you're still the most beautiful, intelligent, toughest, different, and downright difficult girl I've ever met," he chuckled lightly at the last part. "How these people go day by day without realizing this is a mystery to me," he was talking in a whisper now, flattering my more and more with each passing second.

He sounded so sincere, his words making me feel like I actually mattered - something I didn't even feel at home.

I had to look down to hide my face, holding various shades of red.

"You can trust me, Addie," he said softly, his hand still caressing my cheek with the gentlest of touches.

This time I was looking down so he wouldn't have to see the pain in my eyes.

"My step-dad doesn't like me much," my voice was barely higher than a whisper, newly formed tears threatening to fall.

Suddenly, his arms were wrapped around my tiny frame, a lone tear trailing down my cheek and being absorbed into his shirt. This was a whole new Tommy I'd never seen before; I liked him better.

"Why haven't you told anyone?" he asked sternly.

I think the reason was pretty obvious. He had nearly broken my wrist simply by grabbing it too tight.

"I can always go with you if you're too scared," he mumbled into my hair.

I closed my eyes and inhaled his sweet scent. "I'd like that."

He kissed the top of my head before pulling away, leaving my feeling cold.

"We should probably get to work if we wanna get out of here earlier than five," he said, assisting me in putting my glasses back on.

"You know, you look quite lovely without these," he smiled down at me, my stomach doing odd flips inside of me.

"You know, you're quite an easy person to like when you're not acting like an arrogant ass," I mimicked him, a soft laugh escaping his lips.

--- --- --- --- ---

"That wasn't so bad," I sighed, pulling the straps of my backpack over my shoulders.

"Considering it was your fault we got detention in the first place," Tommy pointed out, grabbing his bag and sliding it on as well.

We had finally finished cleaning up the room, with a little more than half an hour to spare.

"I refuse to apologize for that. In my defense, you were starting to get on my nerves," I joked as we walked out of the classroom side by side.

He was quiet for a minute. I looked at him, noticing he had stopped walking and was looking down at the ground awkwardly.

"Tommy? You okay?" I asked turning around and standing in front of him.

He opened his mouth a couple of times, struggling to get something out. "Wh-what's going to happen between u-us? Tomorrow at school, I mean."

I hadn't really thought about that. But still, even if I was positive I was starting to have feelings for him and after hearing everything he had to say today, I was sure that these were just spur-of-the-moment feelings and he'd get over them. I was also sure I'd be able to handle things going back to normal better than if something were to happen between us, I fell harder for him, and he realized he didn't really like me anymore.

"Let's just pretend nothing happened at all. That seems like the less painful route." Though I was certain of my words, they came out sounding like a question.

He finally looked me in the eye, his expression hurt. "I can't do that." He shook his head.
He took my right hand in his left one, interlocking our fingers together.

"You see," he continued, "I was serious when I told you I was determined," he smirked, though I could tell he was solemn.

"I'm easy to like when I'm not trying to impress you, you said so yourself," he said, brushing the back of his fingers, still connected to my own, against my cheekbone.

"We can help each other," he said, this time bringing our hands to his face and slowly kissing each of my fingers. "Because, Addie, it's been two months now. Two long months since I first laid eyes on the new girl." He gradually bent down to my level, placing a light pressure on my lips with his, turning my knees to jelly beneath me, before putting them by my ear. "Two long months of wanting you."

What was that I was just mumbling about pain and pretending that. . .something?