Shy

"He's looking at you again." Leaning back on her heels, Charlotte Silverstein glanced discreetly at the petite blonde girl standing next to her. The bustling noise of the crowded cafeteria around them had begun to dim. Charlotte wasn't surprised.

Very little of what Dylan Frost did escaped anyone's notice.

And for the past few days, Dylan Frost had taken to spending his entire lunch hour with his eyes glued on the short, five foot three seventeen year old Emma Smith. While it may have gone by unnoticed the first few times, both Emma, Charlotte and almost everyone who sat at their table were beginning to notice the jock's strange staring.

Parvi, ever the optimist, suggested that perhaps it was Emma's new hair do that was attracting his attention. Charlotte disagreed fervently.

Emma's hair looked exactly as it did, two weeks ago.

Lola reasoned that it was Emma's new fashion ensembles that had grabbed Dylan's attention. Charlotte shook her head at that. Emma's fashion sense was as unpredictable as a dead cat. She wore jeans and a dark t-shirt day and day out.

Ethan, their gay friend, had come up with another more very interesting suggestion.

'Ever thought that maybe Dylan Frost might actually be growing good taste in women and has a crush on Emma?'

That comment had certainly turned heads.

'Impossible.' Emma had hissed, cheeks a flaming red. Charlotte couldn't tell whether it was from embarrassment or indignation but she thought that the colour suited her friend well. She blushed rather prettily, Emma did.

'Well would you rather that he's staring because he wants to steal your camera off of you?' Ethan had glanced pointedly at the Canon camera in her hand. Emma's fingers tightened around the black contraption and her face grew redder.

Smiling smugly, Ethan had very simply leaned back and taken another bite out of his mayonnaise filled sandwich. Al heads had turned to Dylan after that, and if it had not been for the bell signalling the end of lunch hour, Charlotte would have sworn they'd have had to pry Emma's fingers from around a dead Dylan's bruised throat.

Presently, Emma and Charlotte were standing in line for their daily slosh. Dylan's grey eyes had found Emma's blonde head once again and was busy following it around the cafeteria.

Turning her dark head ever so slightly, Charlotte took a step closer to her best friend and dictated the boy's movements to her.

"And now he's standing up. Oh god, I think he's going to come over he...wait, no, he's talking to Gloria."

They had just about reached the end of the line, their trays full of Monday Meatball when Charlotte elbowed her friend's side. "He's moving our way."

Emma, embarrassed perhaps by the hushed whispers everyone around them had taken to, threw her tray down on the top of their table. Charlotte's eyes widened.

"Ems," she began, "breathe in and out."

But it was too late. Fists clenched by her sides, Emma's steely gaze found Dylan's across the crowded room and narrowed. Her round, pretty face had turned a beetroot red. The fact that Dylan had looked quickly away, caught off guard, mattered for naught. Knees and elbows locked, Emma made for his direction and met him halfway.

She didn't even notice that the cafeteria had gone completely silent.

"What in the flipping hell is your problem?" she yelled. Dylan had stopped walking and was frozen in place.

Emma stomped her foot on the ground. "What do you want from me? You think that just because you're some hot shot quarterback you can get away with being so rude - freaking staring at me like I'm a freaking weirdo?"

Dylan was speechless. His tanned cheeks had turned a darker shade.

"Well you know what, Mr. Hot Shot, t's not. Just man the heck up and tell me what you want from me."

Dylan's lips moved but no sound came out. He was mumbling, clearly embarrassed and for some strange reason, resembled nothing of the cocky, confident Jock that ran the fields during their games.

"Well...?" Emma forced.

Shutting his eyes, Dylan bowed his head and clenched his jaw. "I was wondering if you could help me with an art project and I was too nervous to ask you straight out."

He was talking so quietly that if Emma hadn't been paying attention, she probably wouldn't have heard him at all.

"What?" she asked, confused now.

"Can you help me with my art project?" he asked. Then, quickly, his eyes came up and darted across the room. Everyone who'd been staring turned quickly away when he did.

"What for?"

Dylan scratched the back of his head nervously and took a step forward, leaning in close so that his lips were right beside Emma's ear. The girl couldn't help herself. She shivered.

"I wanted to ask you to help me with my art special project, so that I can get a passing grade." Then he moved away, eyes downcast. "But I understand now if you don't."

Emma shook hear head, trying to clear the confusion but Dylan had already stepped away from her and was making his way back to his seat.

The cafeteria was still as quiet as an exam hall.

Swallowing her pride, and humiliation, Emma felt the pity and guilt wash over her. Sucking in a deep breath, she called out Dylan's name.

"Fine, I will."

The boy stopped walking but he hadn't turned back to face her.

"Meet me by the Science Labs after school."