by RH Tucker
I’d be lying if I said I don’t notice how attractive she is. She doesn’t have to wear revealing clothes to show off extra skin. She liked jeans and comic book T-shirts, and it worked for her. Her raven hair fell over her shoulders in the video, and she spoke in this excited tone about all the cool things she saw at the show.
I watch a second video and at the end, she promises everyone her next video she’s going to go over everything she enjoyed about the convention. The next video’s longer, about ten minutes, and my fingers are literally shaking as I click play.
I start watching the video, and it’s peppered with different video clips and pictures she took from the show. It’s obvious how much she loved it. It reminds me of how I felt about the show before I saw her. Watching her, I wish I could be braver than I am. I wish I could be as open and comfortable about who I really am as she is. That confidence just adds a new level of attractiveness to her.
As the video plays, a small clip rolls and I see the room the cosplay contest was held in. I realize I’m holding my breath and have to let it out, stretching my fingers, trying to calm myself. The video cuts from the contest to her.
“It was amazing, you guys.” She smiles. “So, I’ll show you some footage here. The Marvel booth had some awesome props from the movies, and wait until you see the footage from the cosplay contest. Side note, Iron Man was the hottest. That probably factored into him winning.”
Um, what? I rewind the video a few seconds and listen again. Yep. She did say that. Not to be cocky but I do try to keep myself in good shape. But something about how she says it, it almost looks like she starts to blush. Then the video switches back to more of the contest and shows other cosplayers. Afterward, it switches back to her, and she goes on about other things from the show. The video ends, but I go back to the part of the video where she said I was hot. Well, okay, not me but Iron Man. Same thing, right?
At school the next day, I’m in my first class as we finish up a list of prom court week functions. With a couple minutes before the bell rings, I pull out my phone and start scrolling YouTube videos. Honestly, I try not to go back to her channel, but I can’t help it. I want to hear her say I’m hot again, so put in an earbud and start the video.
Oscar is our student council commissioner. He handles organizing functions at our sports games. He’s also about just as big of a douche in school as Jeremy McCormick, though I would have to give Jeremy the edge in that category, if only by a thin margin. Zipping up his backpack, he leans over my desk, looking at my phone.
“What’s that?”
“Just some video,” I answer.
I don’t try to hide the fact that it’s Izzy’s because most of our class knows she has her own YouTube channel. Some watch it because they like it, others watched it to hate on her and make fun of her. Either way, I know just watching the video isn’t going to out me.
“Oh, that’s that nerd chick, right?” he asks, and I nod. “She’s a freak.”
“What?” I pull out the earbud and shoot him a look.
“What? I’m not saying she isn’t hot because she is. But she’s a hot nerd freak.”
“Dude, she’s not a freak.”
“Oh, come on, Hillard.” He gives my shoulder a light punch. “She’s into all that comic book and Japanese animation crap. Lame.”
“Just because she like’s something, doesn’t make her lame. What do you like?”
He takes another look at my phone; the video is still playing. “Well, I like her. More specifically, her nice–”
“I got it.” I cut him off and hit the power button on my phone.
“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Prez. What, calling dibs?”
“Shut the hell up.”
“All right.” He laughs. “She’s fair game then.”
“You’d ask her out?” I give him an unbelieving look.
“I didn’t say that, but I’d definitely hook up with her.”
The bell rings as he chuckles. We both grab our bags and head out of class.
The rest of the day goes by smoothly and by the time my fourth period class starts, I’m actually a little excited about it. Fourth period is sociology, and it’s the class Izzy and I have together. I want to thank her again for keeping my secret, but I also kind of want to push the whole ‘Hot Iron Man’ comment. Because why not?
We don’t have assigned seating in the class, but we all sit in the same seats we picked for most of the year. I sit a couple seats behind and a row over from Izzy.
“Hey, David,” I call over to a classmate before the bell rings.
“What’s up?”
“Hey, man.” I take a moment. I want to trade seats with him because he sits right behind Izzy, but I don’t want it to seem like it’s a big deal. “You think I could trade seats with you today?”
He looks around the room and then back at me, confused. “Why?”
“Um,” I scan the room myself, trying to think of a reasonable excuse, but come up with nothing. “I, uh, lost my contacts. Your seat’s a little closer to the front.”
“Your contacts?” He shoots me a look that says he doesn’t believe a word I’m saying. “Ask Hilda to switch you up front. She’s got a front row seat.”
The door of the classroom opens, and I see Izzy walking in. My eyes immediately dart to her seat and then I send a panicked look to David. A smug, knowing grin comes over his face.
“Dude, you could of just said that. Come on.” He waves me over.
I raise my fist to pound his. “Thanks, bro.”
“No problem.”
I get to my new seat just as Izzy makes it to hers and shoots me a look as I put my books down.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Nothing.” I smile. “Just decided to switch seats today.”
She gives me a funny smirk as we both take our seats.
“So, anyways,” I lean forward to whisper closer to her ear. “Just wanted to thank you, again.”
“Oh, it’s …” She pauses, still looking ahead, but I see her shoulders stiffen. “It’s nothing. I told you, it’s all good.”
“I know, but still, thanks.”
I lean back, but now I have the lingering smell of whatever she’s wearing in my system. I’m not sure if it’s some type of body spray or shampoo, but it has a nice floral scent. I like it.
Leaning forward again, I get a little closer than the first time. “So, you thought Iron Man was pretty hot, huh?”
She lets out a loud cough that makes me chuckle. I see her fingers tense around the book on her desk. A couple students look over at us, so I lean back in my chair, trying not to bring to any more attention our way. Glancing back, David shoots me an approving nod. When the bell rings, I’m totally content to end the conversation, but then she turns around.
“I did actually.” She shoots me a knowing smile, whipping her hair around so I catch another scent of whatever she has on. She leans back, putting an arm on my desk. “But you know what’s even hotter? At the end of the movie, when he reveals who he really is. That’s downright sexy.”
I pinch my lips together, giving her a side glance.
“You know,” she continues. “A guy who knows who he is and isn’t afraid of it. That’s what’s really hot.”
Okay. So, she wants to play that way, huh?
“Well, he did have to work up to that. Remember him sneaking around behind Pepper’s back being the hero before ever telling her.”
“He did it once.”
“Once is enough.” I give her a confident smile. “Sometimes you have to keep a secret. For the greater good.”
“Right. The greater good?” She rolls her eyes.
“What about Clark Kent?” I whisper.
“What about him?”
“He kept his secret from Lois for years.”
“Yeah, and they never got together until he finally revealed his secret.”
“That was just one storyline,” I counter. “What about the othe
rs when they date, and she doesn’t know.”
“Those are lame. How can she fall in love with a guy, if he isn’t honest?”
“Wait a second.” I stare at her. “What exactly are we talking about now?”
“I don’t know.” She bites her bottom lip. “You started it.”
A loud cough shakes us both from our discussion as our teacher stares at us. A few snickers roll around the classroom.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Mrs. Henderson says, with no sympathy in her tone. “Was I disturbing you two?”
“What? No,” I speak up.
“Sorry.” Izzy turns back around, her head shrinking between her shoulders.
“Mr. Hillard, I know the President of the United States is commander in chief, but as student body president, that doesn’t make you commander in chief of this high school.”
“Yes, ma’am. Sorry.”
“Good. But, seeing as you’ve rearranged your choice of seating today, and you and Ms. Jacobs seem to have so much to discuss, I’ll be pairing you up first.”
“Uh.” I shoot her a look and then scan the room, totally unsure what we were being paired up for. “For what again?”
“Oh, yes,” she feigns a look of bliss, as she wraps her fingers together in front of her. “You and Ms. Jacobs were so enraptured with your conversation, you missed my assignment for the week. You’re pairing up to take care of your babies.” My face drops in horror, still not a clue what she’s talking about. Then she holds up an egg. “Each of you will be paired up with someone, and you’ll be given the task of caring for an egg for one week. As a couple.”
“A couple?” Henry Watkins says from the back. “Mrs. Henderson, I’ve counted, and there are more guys in here than girls. How’s that gonna work? I’m not gay.”
A small round of laughs echoes in the room.
“Yes, Mr. Watkins, because two men couldn’t possibly raise a child without being romantically involved. A father and a step-father would never have to work together for their son or daughter.”
Another round of laughs goes around.
“I have the eggs up here. You’ll be assigned one, and I’ll place a stamp on it. At the end of the week, we’ll break the egg open to make sure you didn’t boil it and cheat that part of the assignment. You’ll be asked to go shopping with your partner, work on school itineraries for your egg-child, assign weekly chores you think you’d want your child to take care of, and a whole list for other things. The packet will explain the rest. Not working as a team will dock you and your partner points. Mr. Hillard? Ms. Jacobs? You two can come up first and select your egg.”
Izzy shoots me an embarrassed look as I trail behind her up to the desk. Mrs. Henderson hands us each a packet that outlines what we are to do and then flips open the first carton of eggs on her desk. I reach down for one and look over at Izzy, shrugging my shoulders.
“Name?” Mrs. Henderson says without looking up.
“Uh, what?” I stare back at her.
She sighs. “As parents, you have to choose a name for your egg.” Her attention cuts away from us and looks out over the rest of the class. “Be careful. Remember, this is a social experiment, and many arguments have come from it, many of which started with the parents not even able to come to terms on a name.” Her eyes drift back to Izzy and me. “So?”
I look over at Izzy, who stares back at me, unsure what to say. Then an idea hits me.
“Tony.” I smirk.
Izzy snaps her head toward me, her lips curling up.
“Tony, it is,” Mrs. Henderson answers as we make our way back to our desks and our teacher starts to pair up other students.
Chapter 11
Izzy
“So?” Matt sidles up to me as soon as the bell rings.
When he leaned forward and whispered to me, it caught me off guard. Not like I didn’t like it, but I just wasn’t expecting it. But then, when he did it again—even closer—I felt his breath over my ear and I literally let out an unnatural cough which made some people look over at us. It was either that or spin around and attack his lips because that’s exactly how it made me feel.
He didn’t whisper anymore after we went up front and got our egg, but that didn’t keep me from over-thinking and over-analyzing everything he had said and done before we were interrupted by the teacher. Or, should I say, before we realized we were interrupting her. And now, here he is, walking next to me, acting as if everything’s okay.
I guess for him it is. He probably flirts with so many girls that it’s second nature to him. But even after my sudden impulse of flirtatiousness, I usually don’t go out of my way to try and flirt with guys. Enough of them already mistook my being nice as flirting already. Hello, guys? A girl being nice is not flirting. If I smile at you, I’m just saying hello, not that I want to jump your bones.
“What?” I finally get my thoughts back in order to respond. Mostly.
“When we gonna do this stuff?”
“What stuff?”
“This stuff.” He waves the packet, reading over it. “It says we need to go shopping for food, diapers, and essentials.”
“What?” That’s enough to bring me back to reality, and I open my own packet. “It’s an egg. Why are we shopping for it?”
“We’re not actually buying the stuff, we’re just like, window shopping, I guess. We mark down the prices, and we have to agree on it.”
“What else do we have to do?”
His dark hazel eyes skim over the packet, and I look up at him. He’s tall, maybe a little over six feet, which towers over my five-four height. He’s got a chiseled jawline, with a little bit of scruff peeking out around his chin. I wonder if he let it grow out because of what I said? No, get over yourself, Izzy. Why would that matter to him?
His dark auburn, shaggy hair, is more brown than red and waves in the slight breeze that rolls through the hallway. He kind of reminds me of Grant Gustin, but more fill out. I glance over his shoulders and chest, his dark shirt stretching across his chest. Yes, definitely more filled out. And he’s got thin lips. But there’s enough there that makes me stare at them now. I wonder how they taste. God, Izzy, get a hold of yourself.
“So, what do you say?” Matt looks at me.
“Hmm?” I’m broken from my face-contouring thoughts, realizing he’s just asked a question but I have no idea about what.
“After school? Or if you want, we can hook up later tonight?”
“What?” The word comes out much harsher and higher-pitched than intended. “What do you mean?”
Matt gives me a look like I’m crazy. Why is he talking about hooking up with me? What did I miss?
“Uh, the shopping list?” He waves the packet at me. “I don’t have anything I have to do after school, so we can go after if you want. Or, if your busy, we can go later this evening.”
“Oh.” Relief floods my system, and actually, a little disappointment. “Shopping. Right.”
“What’d you think I meant?”
Now he’s staring at me, and he smirks, knowing I’m embarrassed. I can feel my cheeks getting red and the more he smiles the hotter I feel. “Nothing.”
“Right. What’s your number?”
“What?” I repeat the word again.
“Izzy, you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Control yourself, Izzy.
“Too much caffeine or what?”
“Yeah.” I chuckle, taking the out he’s given me. “Probably sugar too. I should probably lay off the venti caramel frapps.”
“Or just go with a small.” His smile returns and now I’m staring at his lips again.
“I think you mean tall.”
“I’ve always thought those names were stupid. Who calls a small a tall? Anyways, what’s your number?”
I give him the number, and he plugs it into his cell. “All right, I got it. I’ll hit you up after my last class, and we can go from there. Do you have a car?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, cool
. Did you want to drive to the store together or meet up there?”
The question should be simple to answer. But my thoughts zoom right past Reasonable Street, blast right through Rationality Row, and crash directly into Hot Whispers in Close Quarters Avenue. I suddenly remember his breath against my ear and the touch of his skin when I rubbed his face last week. If we took the same car, could something happen? Get a grip, Izzy! It was one whisper. He’s talking about working on a class assignment with you, not trying to pick you up for a date.
“Meet up there,” I answer, but it sounds like a question.
“Okay.” He stares at me for what feels like just a moment too long. Did he want to ride together? Was he really flirting with me when he was whispering in my ear? “I’ll talk to you later.”
He turns and leaves, and I don’t do anything but watch him as he walks away.
“Yeah,” I reply to myself.
Turning around, I head in the opposite direction. It’s lunch, and I know I have to try and get a hold of myself. If for no other reason than if I’m acting all weird around Cindy and Veronica they are definitely going to know something’s up. I have no problem telling them about what happened in class, but if I do, I’m afraid I’ll just snowball it all together into seeing him at the convention. As much as I want to tell them, I don’t want to break Matt’s trust either.
I’m pulled out of my thoughts as my phone beeps.
Unknown: Now u have my number. Enjoy lunch, my baby mama :)
As soon as I read the text message, there’s a smile plastered on my face that won’t be leaving anytime soon. Damn you, Matt Hillard, and your hot whispers.
Chapter 12
Matt
I had to fight from frowning when Izzy said she’ll meet me at the store. I can’t get a read on her. I wasn’t trying to overtly flirt with her in class, but I was definitely throwing it out there. Everything seemed to just bounce off her.
