My Calamity

The boy took his shirt off. The shirt on his back went over his head and landed on my leg. I couldn't help but blush. I may not have been the most experienced girl, or experienced at all, but this boy had to have one of the best bodies out there.

Who was he though? He looked familiar, and he was wearing a Harbor Springs Country Day Lacrosse band on his wrist, so he obviously went to my school, yet I could not for the life of me figure out who he was.

Only then did I realize he had asked me something, and I decided to stop staring enough to answer. "I-I'm fine," I stuttered, looking everywhere but his body. I shifted on the ground, and pressed his shirt against my leg harder.

"You're a bleeder, huh?" he asked with a lopsided smile.

"Something like that."

"Can you stand up?"

"Yeah, it's really nothing but a scratch." I stood up, and took the shirt off my knee, clutching it in my hand. I attempted to start walking but stumbled, and fell right into the unknown boy. "Sorry," I said quickly, a hot flush flashing across my cheeks and neck.

He chuckled, and took a hold of my arm, slipping it over his shoulder and then wrapping his arm around my waist. He hovered over my five foot ten figure, making me wonder exactly how tall he was. "Come on."

I limped up the stoned walkway towards the large white house with the support of the Lax boy. It was one of the prettier houses in the neighborhood, looming at three stories with lavender-colored shutters and a red-brown porch. "Nice place."

The boy glanced at me and just stared. "Thanks," he said at last but he didn't turn away either. I prayed I didn't have something on my face. Oh, god, how embarrassing would that be?

The boy's arm left my waist to push open the front door, and he held it open for me as I limped inside. My leg had stopped bleeding, but there was blood caked on my knee and a line running down my leg. I didn't want to think about the state of his shirt.

"You can sit here." The boy left me in his living room and walked off to an unknown destination. I sat down carefully on one of the arm chairs, and took in my surroundings. The living room was set up symmetrically with two arm chairs and a couch framing the TV that was placed on the wall.

The boy walked back with a red first aid kit and sat down on the floor in front of me. "You don't have to do that," I said quickly, though my words didn't stop him from taking out the brown bottle of Peroxide, my childhood nemesis, and some cotton pads.

"I'm certified," he said with a confident grin. Without my response, he took my leg, his long, slender fingers wrapping around my calf, and slid the wet pad up my leg, ridding it of blood. He set that pad down and got a clean one out for my knee. "This is going to burn," he said, looking into my eyes.

I knew he was looking into my soul, yet I didn't look away. "Okay," I responded shakily. He nodded his head, and pressed the pad against my knee. The pain jolted through me, not a pain that would make me cry but a burning that made me cringe. It was gone as quick as it came though.

The boy sprayed my knee with that Neosporin-to-go, and then bandaged the cut with those plain, beige-colored Band-Aids, and I made a mental note to change it when I got home.

The boy stood up and I followed suit, standing next to him awkwardly. I slipped my hands into the pockets of my denim cutoffs and bit into my bottom lip nervously. "Well, uhm, thank you," I said unsurely. "I should probably get going."

He nodded his head, a smile on his face and I forced myself to look away as he led me to the front door. His hands were shoved in his front pockets, and he kept shaking his dark brown hair out of his eyes, but it deliberately fell back into his face each time. "It was no problem. Do you need a ride?"

I shook my head. I could imagine what Hal and Melissa would say if they saw this boy drop me off in his car. "No thank you," I said with an easy smile. "I don't live that far."

He nodded, and opened the front door for me. "Okay."

I stepped out into the heat, dreading the walk back. "Thank you again."

"No prob."

I began to walk down the steps and onto the stone walkway, when his voice stopped me in my tracks. "I'm Patrick, by the way." His voice sounded awfully close. I whipped around and sure enough, he was only inches away from me. "Patrick O'Connell."

I took a healthy step back, and looked up to meet eye contact. "Everyone calls me Penn." I didn't wait for a reply or anything for that matter, and turned on my heel and walked the path that would lead me home with a smile on my face because oh, how Patrick O'Connell had made an impact on me.

I should've known then that Patrick had chosen me to be his one and only.

But I didn't know, and when I did, it was far too late.