I got cleaned up faster than she did. I considered waiting for her, but decided against it. I went into class again but kept looking at the door, wanting her to come back. What’s wrong with me? You’re making yourself look like a desperate idiot! I yelled at myself inwardly. Besides, she’s a little weird. When she returned her make-up was redone (what, you think us guys don’t notice?) her hair was glossy and pink-foam-free and her shirt was now completely pink. In fact, it didn’t even look stained, almost like it was supposed to be that color. Weird.
The bell rang.
Me: So what’s your next class?
Her: Creative Writing.
Me: Oh that’s off in Bjip.
Her: What?
I blushed, crap, why did I say that?
Me: It’s something my … family always says, like it’s far away.
Her: oh.
I walked her to that class and when we were at the door,
Her: Thanks, I don’t think I could have found this on my own.
Me: No problem, just meet me at the stairwell and I’ll show you the next one too.
Now why did I do that?