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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
The morning with Jason

Submitted: August 14, 2008

A A A | A A A

Submitted: August 14, 2008



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He thought she looked gorgeous. She wasn’t skinny and tall, but that didn’t mean she was stumpy either. She had shinny black hair that fell to her shoulders, a cute button nose and pretty features. As she walked towards him, she smiled, and for a moment, in his eyes, that smile drowned out even the sun itself.

“Hello, friend,” she said, holding her hand out in front of her. “I’m bringing handshakes back.”

“Handshakes?” he asked, taking her hand in his. She had a firm handshake, and he liked that about her.

“Yeah, you know, like in a casual setting. Handshakes are over-used in formal situations,” she replied, joining him at his table. He looked at her and said nothing, taken in at how her dangling earrings caught the light every time her head shook.

“So, Jason Teaman, what time’s your class today?” she continued, looking intently at him with her dark eyes.

“In about ten minutes.”

“You should hustle then,” she told him, clapping her hands in front of her to express haste as she leaned back in her chair. A group of boys walked past their table, and Jason noticed a couple of them turning their heads to have a second look at her. For a split second, he felt protective of his friend. But the group moved on, and she hadn’t noticed a thing.

That was exactly the way she was, completely oblivious to her beauty and the number of boys who were tripping on their feet to impress her. To her, they were just silly friends, dismissing their advancements with a giggle and grin. What she didn’t know was that her unintentional aloofness made them want her even more.

He turned back to look at her. She was busy trying to untangle her necklace; the clasp had become locked with the pendant, and she moved her slender fingers quickly around them. Finally, she got it loose.

“Does punctuality strike you as one of my finer attributes?” he asked her, before taking a sip of his now cold coffee. “What time’s your class?”

“Half an hour ago. I woke up late,” she said, smiling cheekily.

“Well, aren’t you quite the hypocrite,” he laughed, placing his empty coffee cup right in the centre of the table, purposely brushing his hand lightly over hers as he did it.

“I figured since I was already late that it’d do no harm to be later. Besides, it’s a boring class. Can I walk you to your class?”

“You really should be getting to yours,” he told her, as she got up, straightened her shirt and yanked him up from his seat.

He got up, gathered his things and they began walking in silence in the direction of his class. She seemed caught up in her thoughts, and he didn’t want to speak and spoil the moment.

In all the years that he’s known her, she’s never once left his mind, or side. Since the first day of school two years ago, they’ve been close friends, the sort that would tell each other everything, yet keep some things secret so as not to cause hurt. The sort that took the other to a party as a date, but knowing that that was all there was to it. They’ve both hated each other enough to share that sort of love they had. While he was the cautious, reserved one, she was outgoing, gregarious and throwing her head back in laughter.

Soon, they were standing in front of his class, and she put a hand on his arm, squeezed it and smiled.

“Have a fancy class, boy.” Then she was lost in the crowd, swallowed by the number of students walking to and from class. He sighed, pulling the door of the class open. He could still feel her hand on his arm.

“Oh, Amanda,” he thought quietly. “I was never supposed to fall in love with you.”

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