One Pack of Smokes from Broke.

Garrett sighed and glanced down at his English worksheet. He had no clue what it was about, and had no intention of finding out. His eyes moved to the clock, there was only 5 minutes left in class.

He bit his lip, finally resting his eyes on Charlie.

She wasn't working on her paper, either. She was absentmindedly playing with a strand of loose hair. Her eyes were out the window, but it didn't look as if she was paying attention to the outside, early autumn Arizona scenery. Her brow was furrowed slightly and she was biting her lip, looking deep in thought. Garrett wondered what was wrong. He also wondered if they could be considered friends now. It was Monday, making it 3 days from the party. He hadn't seen her after she'd gone to dance with that boy, whom he still didn't know. He wondered if he was her boyfriend. He wanted to hear her say his name again.

All these thoughts left his head as the final bell rang, and he gathered his things quickly, looking over at Pat.

"Hurry up, we wouldn't want her to run off before we can ask." Garrett told him, already slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

"I don't see why we have to, John's with her like every day, why can't he?" Pat complained, throwing his bag on.

Garrett rolled his eyes and didn't respond because, simply, he had no logical answer.

He walked towards where Charlie and Eric stood, his heart already banging quickly in his chest and not caring if Pat was with him or not.

"Hi, Charlie," he smiled at her, practically thanking the Lord that he didn't stutter.

"Oh, hi, Garrett," she smiled back as the four of them walked out of the class room. Obviously she wasn't aware that he voice saying his name made his heart skip a beat and her smile made him get butterflies in his stomach. "What's up?"

"Oh, uh, well, you know that band we're in? With John?" he asked, trying to keep his cool. The way he planned this conversation went by smoother in his head.

"Sure, what about it?" that cute puzzled expression took over her features, doing things to Garrett's heart.

"Well, your pictures of me turned out so good, and we don't have a photographer or anything and we thought good pictures of us wouldn't hurt and John said you did band photography before and all. I mean, we'd pay you." he explained. Garrett gave her a hopefully smile. She had said she liked his smile.

"Oh, right. John's talked about that before." they paused, standing in the school parking lot. Garrett noticed they were the only ones having the conversation, looking over to see Pat and Eric in their own world, talking about their hair. "Yeah, okay, I'm down. Sounds like fun, plus I get money." she smiled sweetly at Garrett, once again making his heart flip.

"Really?! Sweet!" Pat squealed, suddenly in the conversation again. He threw his arms around Charlie in excitement. Charlie giggled and hugged him back. Garrett automatically felt envious of Pat again. he wanted Charlie's arms around him, not Pat.

When they broke apart, Charlie smiled at Pat, ruffling his hair.

With a sudden wave of confidence (and jealousy), Garrett said to her, "Right, so I'll call you with the next gig details?"

"Oh, right, sure," she smiled, pulling out a red pen from her pocket and grabbing Garrett's hand from his side. His hand tingled as she cradled it in hers, writing down the numbers on his palm.

When Charlie dropped his hand, she smiled at him. He smiled back, and they shared one of those staring contest moments once again.

It lasted all of 15 seconds before a white pick-up truck pulled up in front of them. The blonde boy Garrett recognized from the party leaned out the passenger side window. "Let's go bitches!" he called, making Charlie and Eric laugh.

They said goodbye to Garrett and Pat, getting in the truck.

After they drove off, Garrett stared at his hand, a smile on his lips.

Pat glanced over his shoulder, whispering. "Holy shit,'

Garrett snatched his hand out of view. "Fuck off," There was no way her was letting Pat get Charlie's number.

As they drove home, Garrett stared down at the red numbers on his palm, after making sure Pat wasn't looking.

Holy shit is right, he thought. I have Charlie Green's fucking phone number!