Skylar

            

            “Hi,” I said boldly.

            “Hi,” she replied.

            “So…” I began awkwardly. I was mentally scrolling through all the other scenarios of how I had asked girls out before. But something in me knew that navigating the waters with Skylar would be different. I was at a loss for words.

            “So?” She prompted. “Still hoping to know more about me?”

            “You want to tell me?”

            “Not really,” she said.

            “So where’re ya from?” I asked, trying to sound conversational.

            She looked at me again, her expression quizzical. “Everywhere.”

            “You move a lot?”

            “Sure.”

            “Where was the last place you lived?” I asked.

            “New York,” she answered.

            “Wow. Busy city. I went there to visit my Aunt one Christmas. It’s happening even at night.”

            “Sure is,” she agreed.

            “Why did you come here?”

            She bit her lip lightly, probably thinking what to answer. Or she could be wondering if I was a serial killer who wanted to know her personal details. She was hard to read. That was the difference between her and other girls. I knew my way around the average girl. But Skylar – her expressions and her curt replies. She was something else.

            “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just that this town is less exciting than New York. Most people here want to go to places like that. Like New York,” I explained. Her expression smoothened a little, understanding coloring her eyes.

            “I have a relative here. My uncle.” She said cautiously as if afraid to reveal too much.

            “So, you liking Johanna High?”

            “Is this some sort of interrogation?” She asked suddenly.

            “Uh… no.” I glanced behind me and saw Troy and Matthew laughing. I gave them what I liked to call a death glare then turned back to Skylar. She had her lips pursed.

            “I was wondering if you’re free on Saturday night. There’s this party – a”

            “Now you’re asking me out, Jason Hunter?” She looked annoyed but I thought I saw a trace of humor somewhere in those hazel eyes.

            “Just being friendly.” I muttered.

            She laughed then, unexpectedly.

            “Something funny?”

            She ignored that. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that there’s something else you want to know.”

            I kept silent but felt my eyes tighten.

            “You’ve been asking me a lot of meaningless, generic questions really, really quickly and trying to have a conversation or ask me out or whatever. But there’s something else you’re curious about, aren’t you?”

            “Fine,” I allowed. “I’m curious. Why the first impression nonsense on the first day?” Truth is, I had been wondering about that since she spoke it.

            She shrugged. “To introduce myself was to assuage you that I was not an outsider. I thought it’d be cooler to prolong the mystery.”

            I thought about it for a moment. “Okay.”

            “So what did you think about me? When you first saw me.” I saw the curiosity in her eyes.

            “Beautiful. Exceptionally so,” I said easily. “Uh… different. Hard to please. Talented.” I said. 

            She considered. “Hmm.”

            “So are you going to tell me your first impression of me?”

            “I was right. I made sure of it,” she said.  I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I realized that her opinion mattered to me. I wanted her to like me as a person.

            “Well, what was it?”

            She sat a little straighter, squared her shoulders. “Shallow. Jock. Ignorant. A little haughty. Brash. Tactless. Average.” I couldn’t find one good quality in the truckload of words she used to describe me.

            I reacted defensively. “You don’t know me.”

            “Numerous pranks last year including graffiti in the teachers’ bathroom, cheating in tests, terrorizing other students. Only friends: football team and basketball team. Cheerleaders as girlfriends. Sounds about right to me, Hunter.

            I felt my ears go hot. “I’m not some ignorant bastard. I have goals. Like…. Well and, do you realize I said great things about you and you said nothing nice about me?”

            “I thought we were being honest,” she said, her eyes wide with innocence. My fists clenched. She was wrong. She made me sound like a jerk. Surely I wasn’t a jerk.

            “Am I wrong?” She asked.

            “Not entirely,” I admitted, feeling the sudden anger leave my system.

            After a while, she said, “For what it’s worth, you’re wrong about me.” Before I could ask, she continued talking. “I assume this conversation isn’t what your friends pictured you’d be getting. They look edgy.”

            “Yeah I guess I should get back to them,” I muttered, feeling deflated. I stood and pushed the chair in. Surprisingly, she rose too. She walked right up to me.

            “Something for you.” She smirked.

            Before I could ask her what she meant, she grabbed the collar of my shirt with both hands and kissed me. On the lips. I felt her tongue caress my lower lip and her warm breath in my mouth. My lips moved with hers automatically. Like my lips were created specifically so I could kiss Skylar Breanne Robinson. Her right hand moved to the back of my head and my hand was on her forearm. The kiss was so perfectly packed with life that what must have been 5 seconds, seemed indefinite to me.

            When it was over, she smirked again, grabbed her untouched sandwich and left the cafeteria. She left the perfume of her presence to confuse me further.