by Abella Ward
Her hands were on the door when it was suddenly pushed towards her, and she felt a tall, hard body slam into her. Margie’s backpack, which she was carrying on one shoulder, went flying and she felt a rough thud as her back hit the wall.
“Oh, shit!” She heard a voice as she blinked her eyes open.
“Are you okay? Shit, shit.” The voice continued. Rough hands pulled her back up and her eyes finally adjusted to normal vision. Her own hands were placed on Lance Healy’s chest. She had unknowingly placed them there for support, but now she pulled them away in fright.
“Hey. Are you okay?” he asked her again, and Margie managed to nod this time. She watched tongue-tied as he bent forward to pick up her bag from the floor and then stretched out his arm towards her. She noticed the way the muscles on his arms, peeping out from underneath the cotton half-sleeves of his T-shirt, flexed. She had never seen him this close before.
“Is the library still open?” he asked, seemingly unaware of the physical effect he had on Margie. She couldn’t find her voice, her throat had closed up. She shook her head while watching him, studying him closely so she could embed that image of him in her brain. The sharp clean jaw, thick pink lips, the way his chocolate-brown hair fell over his forehead and eyelashes.
“Aw, damn!” Lance cursed some more, his hands flying to his hair. He was running his fingers through it and Margie could feel herself going weak in the knees.
“Why? What do you need?” she heard herself ask, surprising even herself by the sudden voice she had found. Lance looked at her, his large green eyes focusing on her face as he spoke.
“I needed some books for a test. I’m so not prepared for it.” He dug his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
“The economics test coming up next week?” Margie asked, in a low squeaky voice, tucking strands of hair behind her ear. She couldn’t look at him directly; her gaze kept falling to the ground.
“Yeah, exactly. Are you in my class?” Lance’s eyes lit up and Margie blushed. She was instantly embarrassed by the fact that he didn’t even know she existed. She nodded nonetheless and he stretched out his hand again.
“Lance,” he said, with a grin that showed his straight line of perfectly white teeth.
“Margie,” she said, blushing a bright red. She shook his hand nervously, noticing his grip, which was strong and tight. His hands felt rough and soft at the same time, sending tingles down her spine. She nearly giggled.
“Hi, Margie. I’m such a doofus. I don’t know what I’m going to do for the test.” Lance was grinning still as he shook her hand. He was the one who eventually pulled his hand away. Margie didn’t know when to stop shaking it. She knew she was blushing still.
“I have a few books here with me if you want to borrow them?” She started unzipping her bag and pulling out some of the books, which she already knew by heart. She started handing them over to Lance one at a time. He was laughing.
“You just carry these books around in your backpack all day?” he asked, and Margie blushed again. She wasn’t sure if he was making fun of her or just being friendly. He didn’t sound unfriendly, which was a very strange experience for her. Usually, Lance Healy, when he wasn’t winning football games for the college team, was attending frat parties and missing classes. It was no surprise that he didn't know who she was.
“So, you seem to be well prepared for the test already,” he added, cluelessly looking through the pages of some of the books in his hands. Margie was smiling silently at him, her confidence in looking at him directly growing.
“I’ve been studying for it for a while now,” she said, noticing now the way the thin material of his T-shirt stretched across the vast expanse of his chest. She couldn’t believe she had touched it. Lance Healy’s chest!
“Jeez. I haven’t even started yet. Do you mind if I borrow some of these books?” he asked, and Margie nodded.
“Go ahead. I don’t need them anymore. You can keep them for as long as you like.” She was smiling widely, still in a sort of daze.
“I wouldn’t know where to start. But thanks anyway,” he said, staring blankly at the books in his hands. Margie hesitated before she said anything, looking for the right words. Her fingers kept knotting themselves together, and she could feel her stomach churning. She had to get it right.
“I could help you out if you like. With the tutoring. I mean, I could help you to get started. To study. For the test.” She wasn’t sure what she was saying, or if any of it even made sense. But the look of confusion on Lance’s face gave way to delight. His face lit up again, the same boyish grin returning. How could his face possibly be this perfect?
“That’ll be great, Margie. Are you sure you have the time?” He had a polite, courteous voice and Margie could feel her knees going weak. She had never expected to speak to Lance, let alone for him to speak to her this way. She bit down on her lip and nodded again.
“Of course, yes sure. We can get started whenever you want.” Margie could feel herself bursting to giggle again. She had to take short, quick, deep breaths to calm herself whenever he looked away from her.
“Tomorrow? This looks like I have a lot of catching up to do.” Lance sighed, looking back at the books, but smiled at her nonetheless.
“Cool. We can meet in the library tomorrow at five?” Her mind was racing as she spoke. She couldn’t believe any of this was happening. Whatever the instigation behind him planning on meeting her the next day, there were plans being made! How many girls would kill to be in her position?
“That sounds good to me. Tomorrow at five.” Lance stretched the books back towards her and Margie stared at them, confused.
“Trust me. I won’t be flipping through one page by myself. They’re better left with you. You are responsible for my tutoring now,” he said with a wink, and Margie couldn’t help it anymore. She laughed loudly, a sharp, loud giggle. She couldn’t believe any of it. That he had told her she was responsible for him. That he had winked. That they had plans to meet the next day.
“Wow. You have an interesting laugh,” Lance said and grinned at her again. Margie instantly felt self-conscious at that. She covered her mouth with a hand and used the other to take back the books from him.
“Sorry. Yes, I’ll keep them safe for you,” she said.
“Until tomorrow,” Lance added, and she stared back at him, a little shocked. The information still hadn’t sunk in.
“Bye, Margie,” he said suddenly and interrupted her thoughts. She was dumbfounded again.
“Erm…bye,” she managed to squeak, as Lance began to walk away. He winked at her again, threw her a grin and then pushed open the doors and walked out.
Margie remained standing where she was, blinking at the closed doors in front of her and still clutching the books in her hands. What had just happened? Did she just secure a date with the hottest guy in college? Did he wink at her? Twice?!
She hurriedly put the books back in her bag and ran out of the building. He wasn’t anywhere in sight. It had started to grow dark, and Margie rushed towards her dorm building.
She’d forgotten about dinner, didn’t care about the fact that she had barely eaten anything that day. She needed some time and space to wrap all of this around her brain.
When she entered her room, her roommate Claire was sitting on her bed painting her toenails.
“Claire! You will not believe what just happened!” Margie flung her backpack on her own bed and sat down with a thump at the end of Claire’s bed.
“What? Did you ace your test? That isn’t a surprise, Margie.” Claire hadn’t looked up at her yet.
“The test isn’t until next week. So, no. Lance Healy wants me to tutor him for the test.” Margie clapped her hands and that was when Claire looked up. Her brows were creased, and she looked confused.
“Lance, like the Lance Healy?” Claire had stopped coating her toenails with polish.
“The one and only. I bumped into him in the library. He needs help with the pre
paration.” Margie bit down on her lip, the excitement on her face plain to see.
“Are you serious? What was Lance Healy doing in a library? How does he even know where the library is?” Claire tightened the cap on the bottle of polish and set it aside. She didn’t seem to be as excited as Margie was.
“He needed books for the test. Anyway, how crazy is this? I’m meeting him tomorrow at five,” Margie said, and finally Claire smiled.
“So you have, like, a date with Lance Healy?” Claire raised her eyebrows and Margie rolled her eyes.
“Hardly a date, Claire. We’re just going to be discussing economics and I’ll try and help him pass the test.” Margie stood up from the bed and started pacing the floor, her hands behind her back. She couldn’t sit down, but she didn’t want to remain standing. Her heart was still racing.
“Why are you panicking then?” Claire asked, following Margie around the room with her eyes.
“Because it’s Lance Healy? I can’t spend two minutes in his presence without breaking into giggles. He has the most beautiful eyes. Also, he’s very polite.” Margie was talking more to herself than Claire.
“That’s because he wants something, Margie. When have you ever seen Lance Healy being polite to anybody?” Claire was rolling her eyes and Margie stopped in her tracks to study her friend.
“When have we ever spoken to him, to know what he’s like in person?” Margie asked, placing her hands on her hips.
“Exactly. And you’re speaking to him now because he wants something,” Claire said, sitting back on her bed.
“I offered him the help. He didn’t ask for it.” Margie crossed her arms on her chest now. She couldn’t understand why Claire wasn’t more excited. She knew exactly how Margie felt about him. He was her on-campus celebrity crush and this was going to be just a harmless experience.
“All I’m saying is that Lance Healy is a certain type of boy. And you’re a naïve, inexperienced girl who could really get hurt by him.” Claire spoke softly, like she was talking to a child and trying to explain why Margie couldn’t have candy.
“Are you serious? I’m an adult, Claire. I can take care of myself full well.” Margie raised her voice slightly, and then turned on her heels and left the room. She needed to go for a walk, alone, if she was going to be able to calm herself down.
Chapter Two
Margie spent ages getting ready the next day. She ran to her dorm room after classes and locked herself in the room for the preparation. Thankfully, Claire hadn’t appeared, so she had the room all to herself.
Her fiery red curls were shampooed, conditioned and tied into a high ponytail at the back of her head. She even found an old green silk scarf to tie around the ponytail. The color of the scarf matched her hazel eyes and the emerald green, freshly dry-cleaned sweater she had selected for the evening. For her usual pasty pale skin, she couldn’t do much: she was never good at makeup and usually never bothered with it. Her only resort was the light coral lipstick she found in Claire’s bag and she spent ages drawing it perfectly on her lips.
Her jeans were grey, and her shoes were the same canvas black ones she was wearing the previous day. She didn’t want Lance to think she had put in too much of an effort.
Just as she was about to leave, her usual denim backpack on her arm, Claire entered the room and stared at her for several seconds.
“You’re almost unrecognizable, Margie,” Claire said. The humor in her voice was distinctly missing.
“Thanks, I guess, Claire,” Margie said, pushing past her towards the door. They hadn’t spoken much since the previous night when she had stormed out of the room. She still couldn’t forgive Claire for not understanding how she felt about the whole thing.
“Best of luck anyway, I guess,” Claire said, still staring at her. She had clearly noticed the fact that Margie had borrowed her lipstick, but chose not to mention it.
“Thanks,” Margie said quickly, and shut the door behind her. She tried to maintain a steady pace as she walked down the corridors and out of the building. She didn’t want to rush, arrive too early and seem too enthusiastic.
Her heart was still racing and her palms were sweaty when she pushed open the doors of the library and went in. Mrs. Brown was in her usual position but was openly gawking at Lance, who was standing a few feet away from her, reading the titles of the books on the shelves nearby.
“Hey, you!” Lance greeted her with a wide smile, and to Margie’s horror, he approached her with open arms. It all seemed to happen in slow motion. He pulled her to him and her face was squashed against his chest. Margie shut her eyes for a second to breathe in the smell of him, a chemical mix of mint and lime.
“Hi,” he squeaked, blushing a bright red. She could sense Mrs. Brown’s eyes on her. In fact, there were several eyes on her, and especially on Lance. Nobody who was in the library at this hour, was the kind of person who knew Lance Healy personally, but everyone admired him from a distance. Margie suddenly felt like a celebrity, and she giggled.
“You made it,” she said, adjusting the strap of her bag as she led him towards an empty table. He followed her with his hands in his pockets. He was wearing a thin, black T-shirt and light, baggy jeans. His biceps were flexed, his washboard abs showed and the grin on his face was as charming as always.
“Of course I did. I know what’s good for me.” Lance laughed and pulled out a chair for her. Margie sat down and thanked him, blushing at the gesture. She couldn’t remember anybody ever pulling out a chair for her. He sat across from her, running his hands through his hair and looking directly at Margie, a laugh dancing in his eyes.
“So, where do we begin?” Margie asked, looking away from him in an effort to distract herself from his intense green eyes. She rummaged around in her bag until she found the book on basic theories that she was looking for.
“From the beginning, I suppose. You have no idea how behind I am on everything.” Lance’s expression dropped. He was serious and she could see the look of tension in his eyes.
“The thing is, my scholarship depends on it…” he started to explain, and Margie smiled.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to explain. I understand. You need to pass this test. I can help you with that.” She could feel her heart melting. All those things that Claire said, or implied…all the judgments every nerd might pass on Lance Healy, they were unfounded, because nobody really knew him. Margie could see him for the guy he really was, a talented rising footballer who liked to live life to the fullest. But like every student, he needed to pass his test. He was exactly like the rest of them. The crestfallen look in his eyes made him more human.
“Let’s start with the basic economic theories. We can go through some of them so that I understand what your understanding of the subject is.” Margie opened the book, her eyes running over the pages to find the ones she was looking for. She sensed that Lance was looking at her, and when she looked up she found him smiling gently at her.
“You’re a very nice person. Do you know that? I don’t even know you. I’m glad I met you, though,” he said softly, leaning in towards her. Margie blushed again. She hadn’t expected that from him. He was full of compliments, he had pulled out a chair for her and he looked like a Greek God. He was the ideal man.
Margie blushed and shook her head.
“This is nothing. It’s a good way for me to revise before the test,” she said, dropping her gaze back to the book again. It was too much to deal with. He was too perfect.
“You’re very kind,” he said, leaning in towards her again. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice you before.” His voice was still low and Margie looked up to meet his eyes. There was a twinkle in them, and he was grinning and looking at her the way she had always dreamed he would. She had never known that it could ever be a reality.
“It’s not that unbelievable. You’re Lance Healy. I’m sure there are other people you want to give your time to,” she said, biting down on her lip. She knew they were hidden by the bo
okshelves around them, but Margie wished they weren’t. She had a crazy urge for other people to witness the way he was talking to her and looking at her.
“I’ve been stupid. You’re smart, you’re beautiful and you have the kindest soul of anybody I’ve ever met.” With that, he sat back in his chair, like he had made some kind of important proclamation. Margie licked her lips, sighed deeply and looked back at the book. What was going on? Did Lance Healy seriously just call her beautiful? She wasn’t sure if this was some kind of elaborate dream.
“Thank you very much, Lance. We should start studying anyway,” she said, not able to look up and meet his eyes again. He was watching her, though.
“Yes, of course. Always on point, aren’t you?” he said with a laugh, and Margie flipped a few pages just to find something to occupy herself with. She could still smell him, he was that close.
“Before you begin, though, I was wondering what you’re doing tomorrow night.” He interrupted her just as she was about to read out something from the book. Margie jerked her head up to look at him in shock. Was he officially asking her out? This was too magical. Who knew that spending hours at the library would actually pay off!
“N…Nothing,” she mumbled, and Lance suddenly banged the table, although thankfully not too loudly.
“That’s settled then. You’re coming to my party.” He was smiling at her, watching her every move.
“Your party?” Margie squeaked. She could feel that nervous feeling rising in her stomach again.
“Yeah, it’s a frat party. I can bet you’ve never been to one before.” Lance laughed now and Margie blushed again. So he had already figured her out and labeled her as a nerd. He did think she was beautiful, though, so she had nothing to complain about.
“No, I haven’t. Okay, I’ll come,” Margie said, biting down on her lip.
Lance smiled at her and nodded.
