“Give me your number, I'll text you before the day's over to give these back to you.”
Smooth. Melanie was always smooth, never really giving a glance into her thoughts.
I nodded dumbly and raddled off my number to her as she entered it into her phone. “Thanks again for the notes,” she told me, that soon to be familiar smirk tilting the corner of her lips.
I turned around again, grateful that the class was starting. I wasn't sure how much of Melanie Frostwood I could take at that moment. Little did I know, I'd be getting more of Melanie soon enough.
*** S ***
She did text me that afternoon, just as she said she would. I would learn that Melanie always kept her word.
Where are you?
The text was simple but enough to make me hesitate. I found myself struggling over what to text back. A simple answer would suffice, this I knew, but getting myself to do that was a problem. It took me a decent twenty minutes to disclose the truth, to which she rewarded me with a digital smiley face.
It took her no time at all to show up too and as always, when she entered, everyone was immediately fascinated by her.
She sauntered in, gracing us peasants with the presence of our Queen. Truly, that's what she made it feel like. Melanie Frostwood owned everyone and everything in the world –this was her school and we were all lucky that she allowed us to attend. And as the loyal subjects we were to Her Majesty, we all admired her as she made her way towards me, that same smirk claiming her lips.
“Thanks Shawn, I really appreciate it,” she told me, handing the notes back to me.
I nodded my head, accepting the papers from her. “Yeah, sure.”
A moment of awkward silence fell between us. She was looking down at me (I had been sitting in the cafeteria with my usual gang of friends) with those gold eyes of hers, studying my face as if there were some answers there that weren't present in my notes. I swallowed past the lump that had lodged itself in my throat.