Foreign Feelings

Evarah's P.O.V.
Okay, so I'm 99% sure that I've got a crush on Pierre. That other 1% is me wishing that I could control myself a bit more.

I realise this as we're in the library before school. It's while I'm staring at him, trying to memorise his face before shutting my eyes and recalling it -a game I've made up during my boredom- that I know.

I've just opened my eyes again, having been spot on with the size of the blossoming purple bruise under his midnight eye, but having missed out the small, almost heart-shaped mole on his left temple, when he taps my foot with his own.

My eyes skip to his curiously. He taps my foot again, smiling innocently.

“What?” I ask.

Another tap. I tap back, and he breaks into a grin.

Oh, I get it. Tootsies.

I scoot my feet back and tuck them under my chair, out of reach. I laugh as Pierre scoots down in his seat, his long legs gliding across the carpet, trying to reach, but not quite able to.

“I win,” I whisper.

“You win,” he agrees just as quietly.

He sits up straight and leans across the table. I lean towards him. We stop when we're only a few inches apart. I can see him perfectly.

His dark hair is spread across his forehead, dropping into his eyes. They're very blue, in an ocean-reflecting-the-night-sky kind of way. He doesn't have any freckles.

He's watching me just as closely as I'm watching him. I have no doubt that he can see my freckles, the violet flecks in my eyes, the lighter highlights in my hair, and all of my skin blemishes. That though almost makes me want to pull away. Almost.

His lips part. I swallow. Is he going to kiss me? My hands shake at the thought. I so desperately want him to kiss me.

I brace my hands on the table and lean closer, breathing him in. It's a nice smell. His cologne mixed with his sweat mixed with something I can only describe as Pierre. He sees the decision in my eyes, because he moves as well. When we're only a breath apart, I hear an obnoxious, “Hey!”

I start and collapse back onto my seat, breathing heavily. I can feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. I don't look at Pierre.

Two younger girls join us at our table. I vaguely recognise one as Maddy, a younger girl from the French classes, but I have no idea who the other is.

“Bonjour,” Pierre says. I roll my eyes.

“Ohmigod, hi!” The one who I don't know gushes. She has curly red hair and big blue eyes. “I'm Madi! But with an 'I' and only one 'D'. M-A-D-I. And that's Maddy.” She points to her friend, plain brown haired-green eyed Maddy.

“You're in my French class,” Maddy mumbles, and offers Pierre a shy smile. “I think it's really cool that you're here.”

I lean back in my chair and cross my arms over my chest. So, I knew that girls though Pierre was hot. I just didn't know he had actual fans.

“I think it's more than 'really cool',” Madi adds, not having let up on her gushy voice. “I mean-”

“Girls,” I interrupt. “Thanks for saying hi, but Pierre has work to do. Goodbye now.”

“Doesn't look like he was 'working',” Madi mumbles, shooting me an evil look. But she turns to Pierre and waits for his word.

“Thank you, ladies. It's been nice talking to you, but I do have to work.”

“Oh. Well, okay then!” Madi stands and grabs Maddy's hand. “Maybe we'll see you later!”

“Maybe.”

“Bye!”

“Goodbye ladies.” Pierre waves.

“See you, Pierre. Bye Eva.” Maddy smiles at me briefly before Madi drags her away.

I huff.

“What's up Eva?”

I look at Pierre directly. “You really shouldn't string them along like that, you know.”

“Like what?”

“Don't you think calling them 'ladies' and turning on the charm would be classified as stringing them along?”

He chuckles deeply. “Eva, you worry too much.”

“I'm sure you've already said that.”

Pierre shrugs. “Probably.”

I frown at him. The bell rings. I stand up. “Well, we should be getting to class.”

Pierre follows my lead and stands, but doesn't leave the library. Instead, he crosses to my side of the desk and takes my hand. Looking at his feet, he starts, “Eva . . .” He's using his deep, husky voice again, and looking up at me through his dark lashes.

Oh God. I'm finding him unbelievably attractive right now.

His hands are warm and dry and big, completely enveloping mine.

“Pierre, I-” I want to say that I've got to get to class. I want to stay here, listen to what he has to say, and kiss him. I want to run away before I embarrass myself. God, I don't know what I want. “Um . . .”

“I know I've only been here for . . .” His thick brows furrow as he thinks. “Not even three days-”

“Four days. I think. Wait, maybe three.” I breathe a laugh. “I honestly don't know.”

“Eva?” He looks me in the eye.

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

I look down at his scuffed white and green volleys. “Sorry.”

He chuckles. “What I'm trying to say is-” Oh God, he's going to say he loves me! Yay! I think I'm going to be sick . . . “-I really, actually, quite like you.”

At first, the only thing I can think is phew. I don't know what I'd do if he said he loved me. Wait, I'm getting way ahead of myself here. Of course he doesn't love me! I've only known him for 3 (or so) days!

Then what he said clicks. This time it's my whole face that's alight with blood. I look back up to his face, which is smiling softly at me.

I say the first thing that comes to my panicking mind. “What can I say? I am unbelievably addicting.” And then, with my free hand, I smack myself on the forehead. Gosh, that was horrible.

But Pierre just laughs. And before I know what he's doing, he raises my hand to his mouth and kisses it softly. Just like he kisses girl's hands everyday. Maybe it's a French thing.

His mouth is just as soft as I'd imagined. I close my eyes and picture him taking my face in his hands and kissing me on my lips this time.

I sigh as his lips leave my hand. He squeezes it softly. I lean back against the desk to balance myself. I think I might faint.

I don't know what to say. “Pierre,” I mutter, opening my eyes. At first I'm confused. I look around the library, which is empty. And then my heart seems to deflate and sink in a very dramatic kind of way that I can't seem to help.

Oh. He left.

I sigh. Of course he left. Who else would admit that they liked me and then, before I can reply, run away? There's only one.

I push my hair back behind my ears and head to class.