October 8th

I open my eyes. The warm morning sunlight has filled my room with golden light. I love mornings like this. The clouds have almost taken over the whole sky. Today's Saturday. I have to write the prelude for his essay. When do I have to give it back to him? How do I know, who I have to give it back? I mean, I don't even know his name or which grade is he in. I assume, that he's 18, because yesterday on the evening the police shut down the party, and they caught few underage drinkers. He was also in that circle, but they let him go.

So, grade 12th. Name? Unknown.

I get out of the bed and go downstairs for breakfast. Grilled cheese. My favorite.

* * *

I'm sitting at a cafe and writing his prelude. I'm almost finished. I start writing again when I notice two guys entering the cafe. They both order a coffee and wait in line to get them. He's wearing a blue sweater and black, a little baggy jeans. I cover my face with my hand and look down to his prelude I just wrote. I don't want him to notice me. I'm feeling a little awkward about yesterday. I heard the bell on the cafe's door ring, so I look back up to see if they've left.

Shit. He's staring at me, while his friend speaks to him. His green eyes are staring in mine. He smiles a little. I look back down, a smile spreading across my face, my skin turning red.

''Here's your coffee.'' I hear the woman say.

''Wait, I'll be right back.'' I hear his voice. His voice!

Shit, shit, shit, shit. Please be going to the restrooms. Please be going everywhere but my desk. I look up and see him approaching me. Shit.

''Hey. Are you writing my prelude?" He asks and sits in front of me. I feel his cologne. It's smells expensive and screams hot. And I notice his wavy, messy hair.

''Yeah. I don't know, why tho. You lied yesterday.'' I feel my shaken voice leave my mouth.

''Sorry about that. I kind of regretted that.'' He says.

Then happened the most awkward and killing part of a conversation. Silence. I never have wanted to disappear like I do right now. I can feel my skin burning again.

''Marcus, let's go!'' His friend yells his name. Oh, thank God.

''Alright. Nice to talk to you.'' He says and leaves my table, walking out of the cafe.

I blow out a heavy breath and close my eyes for a sec. Marcus. So that's his name. It suits him really well.

I try to get back to my writing, but my mind is literally a fog. I can't think of anything but Marcus. About the way he smells. About the way he was looking at me and smiling. The way his voice was completely calm and attractive. And then there was my voice. Scared and weak. How do I even look today? My hair is in a messy bun. But like really - in a messy bun. I think I didn't even brush my teeth. Or wash my face. Crap.

Good job, Willow.