"I know that I can fuck up your whole life with one look. But I can't stop myself."
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Mia Rose McHenry tries her best to live her life under the radar, never having been one to enjoy the spotligh...
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"Hey Sunshine," Thorne says the following Monday as he falls into his seat next to me, offering that signature smirk that I'm starting to warm up to. It's scary how I'm starting to find something I used to hate so endearing. It's frightening to me that I'm genuinely starting to become accustomed to a boy like Thorne Baxter. If I could stop it, I would.
But, unfortunately, I can't.
I can feel his green eyes on me as he lays back in his seat lazily, waiting for class to start like the rest of us. Only, I find myself wishing that class didn't have to start. For some reason, part of me doesn't mind sitting here with a boy like Thorne staring at me, that I-know-something-you-don't-know smirk playing across his lips.
"Almost get hit by any shopping carts lately?" And with that one sentence, Thorne manages to ruin the moment. Not that there was, like, a moment or anything. You know what I mean.
I roll my eyes and let out a dry laugh. "Very funny, Thorne."
He just smirks in response, as usual. I can't help but notice a handful of girls across the classroom making googly eyes at him, glancing at me with disgust evident on their features. Great. Now I'm not only the invisible girl, I'm the girl that all the other girls hate because I sit next to Thorne.
But maybe that's not such a bad thing.
"What?" It doesn't register in my mind that Thorne has asked me a question until he's all up in my face, staring me dead in the eye. If I didn't know Thorne, I'd say that he almost looks concerned. His eyebrows are drawn and there's a strange gleam in his eye, one that I rarely see. But, since I do know Thorne, I know that I'm probably just imagining the whole thing.
"What do you mean 'what'?" I ask. Thorne frowns, eyeing me skeptically.
"You had that look on your face," he mutters, still staring me dead in the eye unblinkingly.
"What look?"
"That look you get when you're upset about something."
Thorne says the words like they're no big deal. Like he's stating a fact. But he doesn't know just how much those words impact me. To know that I was upset, Thorne would have to know what I look like when I'm upset. And to know what I look like when I'm upset would mean that he'd have to study me. A lot. And care. Care to know what each look I make means. It's such a simple thing for him to do, but it means a lot to me. And it's crazy to think that he doesn't even know that.
"I was just . . . thinking." I don't elaborate. Telling him what I was thinking about would mean revealing that I was thinking about him, and there's no way I can do that. At least, not to his face.
"You okay?" He still looks mildly concerned, and I'm beginning to wonder if maybe I wasn't imagining it at all. Maybe he does care about me, as crazy as that sounds.
