"McKenzie?" He asked me. I glanced up at him from my spot on the hall floor up against a wall, to weak to get up.

"Yeah?" I coughed.

"I...uhh...was wondering..." He stuttered.


Austin was tall, and I mean tall. Being 5'4 myself, I have to tilt my head up his 6'5 frame to actually talk to him. In one word to sum up Austin's looks would be gorgeous. He is tall with dark brown hair cut short but has that tousled, 'I just woke up' look to it that makes him look even better. But it's his eyes. They are a dark brown that just prob your own, and you just can't seem to stop looking into them, but eventually you must. If asked, I would categorize him as the strong and silent type. Before I officially met him he was only quiet, unless near his friends. Seeing him in the halls at school, tall, dark, quiet, gorgeous, you couldn't help but stare at him, as he passed you on your way to class. Some of my first memories of him are in those hallways. It'd be before classes start and during passing periods. I'd be hanging out with my best friend, Angela, and her boyfriend, Eric, and his locker was across from hers at an angle and across the hall. So over the noise and the little distance you normally couldn't hear what him and his friends would be talking about. But it was at those times when he would stare. I didn't know at who. Me? Angela? Or another friend I was with or some other girl? Or was he just staring in the direction I was in? Who knows? But it felt as if he followed me with those strong and silent stares. I never saw him talk when he stared. Of course I would stare at him. I mean who wouldn't? The gorgeous senior. But what would this Senior, varsity basketball player see in me? What would he see in a not skinny, not fat, loud-mouth, self-conscious, Sophomore?Who knows?


"Yeah?" I asked again. I smiled up at him. He loomed over me in that gray hoodie I loved seeing him in. He looked great in gray. He glanced down at me nervously. Behind him huddled together I saw his friends watching us, whispering amongst each other. In nervousness he shoved his hands in his pockets and scuffed a shoe against the floor. I glanced over at Angela giving her a puzzled look, her reply was a shrug and a knowing grin. I stood up slowly, I had been sick that day. Before he showed up I was sitting on the floor with my friend, Leanne, who was equally sick. Throwing back in forth was the sickest, and sharing boxes of tissues.

As I stood in front of him I suddenly felt self-concious. I was sick and looked like crap, not really caring what I put on that morning.

Black lounge pants tucked into my multi-colored boots, with thick socks, (my feet were freezing) yellow Yale shirt and black long sleeve underneath. When I had first gotten to school I sweating fiercely, but now as I stood in front of him I was shivering, wishing I had kept my own hoodie with me. I patted my hair, that was in a messy bun, self-consciously as I waited for his answer.

He took a deep breath. "I was wondering if you would go to the Mistletoe dance with me, if someone else hadn't asked you already." He searched my eyes for an answer. I was in shock mode, thinking it had to be some kind of delirium from my illness.

"Really?" I asked him.

"Yes." He breathed. I took in his face all nervous and excited at once. From his face and from the faces of his friends, waiting in anticipation, I knew he wasn't joking, it was no bet between friends. I smiled up at him, a true and happy one.

"Yeah, Austin." I told him happily. "I'd love to go with you."