Moonlight Kisses

little lies

I take comfort in knowing that it's the middle of the week. It's not Friday yet, but it doesn't feel as dreadful as a Monday. Wednesdays are like the healthy balance a student needs to get them through the week. Like that tiny motivational push one needs to be able to say, "Only two more days." Nothing ever happens on Wednesdays. The day tends to be overlooked, shrugged off, like the stereotype of a middle child.

This Wednesday was quite different.

As me and Beau were giving our presentation, with much reluctance on his part as expected, I was trying hard not to look at the dozen faces sitting in front of us waiting for us to stumble or to mistake one thing for another. Thank god that didn't happen but small things like that can be substantially magnified in front of an audience, no matter the size. My eyes were solely focused on the bold red lettering spelling out "What Is Psychology?" in the back of the classroom. It was my comfortable focal point, one where I didn't accidentally make eye contact with anyone and risk stuttering over my rehearsed words.

I've had many years to master not looking to the audience. It's one of the basic rules in theater. Never look into the eyes of any audience member; it's the same thing as a screen actor looking right at the camera. It ruins the magic.

But somewhere towards the end of the presentation, I was inclined to look away from the big white poster. Like magnets being pulled, my eyes shift to Jake's. Like that time slowed. I finish reading off my card and let Beau do the talking. All the while our eyes are locked. My cheeks flush. He smirks. I turn away. He chuckles softly.

And that was it. That's all it was. And yet my mind kept trying to dissect it. From the way he was sitting to the very slight tapping his fingers were doing on the table. To anyone sane, it could have been nothing. But to me, a crush-having, giddy girl it felt like the whole world. Sure he's looked at me before, but not like that.

I'm delving into this more than I should.

But why would he be staring at me?

Because you were giving a presentation, dumbass.

Obviously, but he could have been staring at the clock or leaning over to talk to someone else. Why would he choose me to focus on? And why would he smirk like that?

He probably noticed you blushing like some love struck little girl. If you had a look at yourself right then you'd be amused too.

I hate my inner voice. Always trying to ruin the moment.

Yet she keeps me grounded. I more than likely am looking into this small encounter too much.

At lunch, Sophie and Kat told me the same thing. So I shut my mouth about it and ate my yogurt.

My last two periods went by normally. I completed a timed write for english and we watched a lengthy documentary about the Boston Massacre in history. The only exciting thing was the sub for history, but unlike everyone else in class who thought it was a free period, I took notes so I wouldn't have to do it later on tonight. Just saved myself an extra hour of an assignment.

I practically jump out of my seat at the sound of the last bell. The only thing on my mind was the nap I'll be taking as soon as I get home.

The sound of my name being called stops me right before my feet hit the asphalt of the back parking lot. My ears perk up at the heavenly sound.

I whip around with a smile. Jake stands at the gate with an equally as bright grin. Small dimples indent the corners of his mouth. His golden hair perfectly reflects the rays of sun shining down. The royal blue of his letterman jacket makes the gleam in his eyes stand more prominent. Whoever is up there stirring in his little mixing pot of people's features definitely took his time on the guy standing in front of me.