12 Grass Green

"Not at all."

Even as the words came out my mouth, I had no idea why I'd said them. Maybe it was the effect of a bad day. I suppose I was looking for a change from routine, and a boy strange enough to want to sit with me would definitely work, right?

I think it was surprise that I saw in his eyes for that brief moment, but it quickly vanished as he thanked me, taking the empty seat opposite mine. Now that I was took a closer look at him, I realized he had a very beach boy look going for him. Slightly tan, with freckles placed on his nose and cheeks, like paint splattered across a canvas. His green eyes were a bit murkier than mine, a lot more brown instead of the almost grey in my eyes.

If I was being honest, he was a bit too attractive to be sitting across from me, and although I wasn't really interested in him, I was open to a conversation, even if it was with a complete stranger.

"I just saw you sitting here and not trying to be creepy, but I thought you looked gorgeous," he said, smiling nervously as he scratched the back of his head, "I'm glad you didn't turn me down," he laughed slightly, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he did.

"Thank you," I smiled back, but oddly enough I wasn't as happy as I thought I would've been about an attractive boy calling me pretty. "That's real sweet. I'm Violet, by the way."

I half expected him to ask, 'like the colour?' as everyone usually did, but he didn't, instead introducing himself back, "I'm Caleb, it's nice to meet you."

"You too." I didn't really have much else to say, although I was quite confused about a guy around my age not seeming to know who I am.

"Are you a student too?" he was looking down at where I'd placed my bag on the floor.

"Last year of high school," I answered.

"Hey, me too," he looked awfully excited about it, and I couldn't help but smile. "What school do you go to?"

"Charleston's."

"Oh, that's five minutes from here, isn't it?" He asked, more to himself, but I nodded nonetheless. "I go to Weston's."

"Ah, our rival school," I smiled, half teasing. I wasn't big on football, but his school was one of our biggest competitors. Football season came with prerequisite of all the jocks in school cursing their team every few minutes.

He looked nervous, probably thinking it could effect his chances with me, "I don't play on the team, if that changes anything?"

I had a full blown smile on. He was kind of cute. "I don't care all that much, don't worry."

"Not a fan of football?"

"Not really."

"I'm glad," he smiled, looking into my eyes, holding me there for a brief moment. He was cute but... he had an odd intensity to him. I didn't expect it, but I couldn't say I hated it.

"Do you want to order something?" I asked, tucking away my hair behind my ear and sitting up a little straighter under his gaze.

"I think I will, thanks."

I watched him go inside to get himself something, having nothing better to do as I waited. I wasn't surprise when I saw the cashier blush as he spoke to her, probably charmed by his looks alone. He came back out five minutes later with a simple latte in one hand and a slice of chocolate marble cake in the other.

"I don't really know what you like, but this looked good so," he placed the slice of cake on my side of the table, "here."

I immediately shook my head, my eyes widening a bit, "you didn't have to."

"I know," he brushed it off with a wave of his hand, sitting down. "I'm just hoping you like chocolate."

"I love it," I smiled, thankful for his thoughtfulness. It was hard to find someone who could be nice to me, of all people. Even if it was only because he didn't know my history, it still felt good.

Talking to him for the next hour or so was just like you'd expect any conversation with a stranger to go. We surprisingly had a few things in common, our university plans being one of them. It wasn't as flirty or awkward as I thought it would be. It was just kind of...nice. He listened to what I said, something hard to come by, and the conversation seemed to flow naturally. In contrast to the exhausting day I'd had, it was pretty refreshing.

After taking down my number in his phone, and a promise to meet again in the future, I was walking down the street once again, my hands tucked in my jeans pockets.

It was already 6 in the evening, so I decided to finally head back home. The walk back was quiet, despite the bustle of office-goers returning home from work. I got the time to actually think about my life, and it cleared my head a little.

Opening the main door with my set of keys, I walked into Scarlet vacumming the hall.

"Where have you been?" she asked over the noise.

"Had a hot date," I replied, taking off my shoes.

I'd sounded just nonchalant enough that she couldn't tell if I was being honest. She switched the vacuum off, looking up at me with her eyebrows raised, "actually?"

I simply shrugged, leaving it for her to figure out.

"was it Ian?"

I clicked my tongue as I walked towards the stairway, "let's not talk about him."

"Who's Ian?" my dad voice reached us before he did, appearing at the doorway of our dining room with a book in his hand. My father was relatively closer to me than my mother was, but not enough that I'd tell him about my crushes, for sure.

"No one," I answered, not waiting for another question before I started up the stairs.

"Who's Ian?" I heard him ask Scar in a whisper, or what he thought was a whisper, at least.

"Just a guy from school," Scar told him, not wanting to be iterrogated either, she quickly put away the vacuum and ran up the stairs, sliding past me and into her room.

Once I'd showered and finally finished most of my homework, I stretched my arms out above my head, wondering if anything good was airing at 9 pm. Just as I'd decided on a show purely from memory, I heard my phone ring on my study table.

My brows furrowed as I reached for it, wondering who'd call me this late. I think my heart almost jumped out of my chest when I saw the ID read 'Ian Park'.

I answered the call, and cautiously lifted the phone up to my ear, "hello?"

"Hey, it's me." His voice felt familiar and foreign at the same time.

"Why'd you call?" Maybe the question was a bit too aggressive, but it left my mouth before I could even think about it. Well, I had the right to be mad though, didn't I?

I heard him breathe out on the other end, "let's talk."

I bit my lip in contemplation, wondering if I'd be giving in too easily if I agreed. But on the other hand, I knew talking it out would be better for the both of us. "Alright, I'll see you after school."

"No, we need to talk now."

My eyes widened and I looked up at the wall clock hanging from my wall, just to be sure. It read 9:53. "Right now?"

"Right now."