Literary Fangirl (learningtoread) wrote,
Literary Fangirl
learningtoread

Be My Fictional Valentine? (WIP excerpt)

In which Teagan tries to figure out what to do on her first day at her new school.

 

 

First time ever I've been bummed it's a Saturday.

I'm flipping to the next page in my handbook to see if there are any notes on what to do on the weekend when someone knocks on my door.

"Come in!" I call. If it's Catalina, maybe she can help me figure out where I'm supposed to be.

The door opens.

It is so not Catalina.

It's a guy.

A man, really.

Tall. Dark. H-h-h-handsome. Bright blue eyes. Broad shoulders. I should say something.

Teagan, really, say a thing. Say something.

"Mmmph."

He raises an eyebrow. "Teagan?"

I nod. Mute. 'Cept for the little whimper. He totally just said my name. He should do that again.

So. Pretty.

"I'm Colm." He steps into my room, leaving the door open, and extends a hand to me.

I just grin.

I mean, what else is there to do?

He so wants to touch my hand. Heh.

I reach up and shake. Still grinning.

I'm an idiot. I don't care. Anyone would be an idiot in this guy's presence. He's probably used to it.

He sure acts used to it. Retracts his hand, leans a shoulder against my wall.

Lucky wall.

"I'm your mentor."

Epic.

"Epic."

Sometimes a girl shouldn't filter herself.

 

He laughs a little bit, but it's this sort of bemused thing, not like he thinks I'm like, the greatest thing ever. Which is fine. I'd be freaked out if he was like, a Romantic Possibility. He's too old. Not Old, but too old for me. Definitely 18+. So I am totally allowed to fawn and annoy him.

He's just got that eyebrow arched. Scans the room.

Hello, Hot Colm. This is my mess. Mess, say hi to Hot Colm.

"You didn't show up for Phys."

"I kind of crashed last night before I looked at the schedule." It's the truth. It makes me seem lazy, but at least it's the truth. I'm usually honest. That's one thing that can be said for me.

"You 'kind of crashed'?" he asks. "Or you crashed?"

Oh. He's one of those say what you mean, mean what you say types. Like my mom. That makes him slightly less attractive.

But only slightly.

He's still really hot.

"I crashed. I was going to look at my handbook, but then Catalina and--"

He's giving me this look that plainly says, Hush, child, for I have no interest in your excuses. 

So. I hush.

"Get your handbook, a notebook, and a pen," he says. "I'll catch you up over breakfast."

I totally get to have breakfast with Hot Guy Who Is Too Old For Me, you guys.

Neener, neener, Mom.

 

 

Tags: grapemo, progress report
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