Lichgate Ch. 2

The rest of the school day passes by without incident. Fortunately that means that nothing else terrible decided to happen. I even check on my zit during lunch and it is barely noticeable. Nick shares about half my classes with me, including last period Photography, but all the other teachers have him sitting on opposite ends of the room from me and we have yet to talk more. I’m not even sure I want to talk with him again. I’m still feel weird about the pig incident. And his contradictory hand temperature.

The final bell rings and I grab my negatives and put them back in the cabinet I share with another girl. Yes, negatives. My teacher is very adamant that we learn photography the “right way” and often goes on tangents about how the digital age is ruining all forms of art. I usually share his opinion. I turn away from the gray metal cabinet and am suddenly eye level with a black t-shirt displaying a Pink Floyd Dark Side of the Moon emblem on it. I glance up.

“Hello Nick”, I say with no real warmth in my voice. I don’t want to encourage conversation with him at the moment.

“Amelia! I was hoping to catch up with you again!” He flashes a brilliant smile at me. When he is speaking I see that he has no mandibular fillings. Hey, when your dad is a dentist you tend to notice these things.

“Oh?” I raise one eyebrow at him. It’s a trick I spent hours looking in a mirror perfecting when I was eight.

“Yeah. I was hoping I could convince you to show me around the town sometime soon. I just moved here and have no idea where anything is or what there is to do.”

“Mrs. Gemfry said you moved here from Columbus, right?”

“Yep.”

“Well, if you want something to do, go back. Granville is the epicenter of boring,” I inform him curtly. Without looking back I step around him, pick up my backpack, and head out the door. I’m normally not so rude and I can’t quite figure out why he is bringing out that rudeness. Or when it was that I began feeling so hostile toward him. Yes, the pig thing was weird but his leg hit the table, right? And even if that wasn’t what actually happened it’s not as if he had made the pig move. That’s impossible.

I’m halfway down the hallway when I hear him call out, “Amelia, please wait!”

I turn and pause and he jogs towards me. For being so tall he has a grace about his movements that is impressive. I notice again just how attractive he is. Man, I’m a mess. One second I’m thinking a guy who has been nothing but polite to me is weird and probably hiding something. The next I’m practically drooling over his hotness. Maybe when I fell on my butt earlier I somehow damaged my brain. Yes, I am well aware how stupid that sounds.

“Did I do something to offend you?” he asks once he reaches me.

I sigh. “No Nick, you haven’t done anything to offend me. I’m just not having that great of a day.” I decide blaming my hostile behavior on the crappy morning I had is reasonable. “I’m sorry if I have been rude to you”, I continue.

“Hey, no problem. Everyone has bad days now and then. It’s completely understandable”, he says. We start walking. I have a feeling he is purposely shortening his strides so he doesn’t get ahead of me. Feeling my much shorter legs to be inadequate I make a conscious effort to walk faster. As suspected, he easily keeps pace with me.

We are almost to the door leading outside. I am not paying attention to where my feet are falling, too busy attempting to be nice and listing all the places worth going to in town to him. I feel my right foot slip out from under me and for the second time today, I begin to fall. Instead of concrete though, I feel strong arms encircle around my waist. They pull me upright and both my feet are back on solid ground again. Nick lets go of me and takes a small step back.

“Oh jeez, this is just not my day”, I say, slapping my palm to my forehead in embarrassment. Nick is staring at me, a bemused look on his face. “Hey”, I say, bravely jabbing my finger into his chest, “this is not funny mister.”

“Nope, not funny at all.” He is agreeing with me but his wide grin says otherwise.

“I mean it.” I glare at him.

“I know”, he says. He is still grinning.

“I really mean it.” I try glaring harder. My head is beginning to hurt from so much glaring.

“Yep”, he agrees. The more I glare the larger his grin gets.

I let out a frustrated sigh, giving up. “I’m going home now”, I declare and turn and begin to stomp out the door.

“Be careful!” he yells after me and I hear him laughing.

What do they say about camel backs and straws? Or just the final straw? Regardless of the saying, I have had enough. I fling the door open and march back to where he is still chuckling.

“OK, I have had it with you. I am not having a great day. I have told you my day has sucked. I don’t need some pretty boy laughing at me, especially one I barely know and who has been pestering me since school let out to show him around town. If you want to mock me, fine. But don’t pretend to care one minute and then act like a total jerk the next.”  I am breathing a little heavy when I finish, partially from anger and partially because I said that all in one breath.

His smile vanishes and a genuine look of concern crosses his face. “I’m sorry if I came across as mocking you, Amelia. I didn’t mean anything by it. You were just so cute when you were glaring at me and I found it amusing.” He reaches out and takes my hand into his.”Please accept my apology.”
I pull my hand away quickly but not before I notice again the weird temperature difference. Still a little angry and feeling bold because of it I decide to ask him about the hand thing.

“Fine”, I say, “I’ll accept your apology on one condition.”

“Anything. Just name it.”

“Tell me why the palm of your hand is ice cold but your finger tips feel like they’ve been in an oven.”

I see a brief flicker of shock on his face but it is quickly replaced by a quizzical look. “I don’t know what you mean”, he says a little stiffly.

“I call bullshit on that.”

“I can’t tell you why.”

“Well then I don’t accept your apology. See ya.” I start to turn away.

“Fine”, he says. “I’ll tell you.”

I look at him again. “I’m listening.”

“I’ll tell you”, he pauses for a second, obviously thinking up something, “on one condition”, he finishes.

“You can’t have a condition to counter my condition. It’s not fair.”

“Of course I can.”

“Whatever. What is this ‘condition’ of yours?” I make quotation marks in the air as I say it.

“Show me around town tomorrow. After school. I’ll tell you then.”

I roll my eyes at him. “Fine. But I’m not accepting your apology till you tell me.”

“OK.”

“Alright then.” Once more I turn my back to him.

“Oh and Amelia?”

“Yes?”

“You might want to hurry. I think I hear the buses leaving.”

Crap.