Since he hit me with the door, I’ve managed to keep my gaze lowered. But after that comment my head snaps up and I scoff, words dripping with sarcasm, “Gee, you think?”
Then I look at him, I mean really look at him and everything blurs. I blink several times and I’m not sure if it’s the after effects from the smack in the head that’s making my head spin or the fact that the guy who smacked me with it is so hot that I damn near gasped when I finally caught a glimpse of his face.
I lower my head and exhale. I am not good in situations like this. I am lousy at conversing with the opposite sex. Especially hot members of the opposite sex. Breathe, Robin. Just breathe. It’s not like he’s interested or anything. It’s not like he’s going to ask you out. He probably has an equally stunning girlfriend at home waiting for him.
I pick my head up again and he’s staring at me, his broad muscular shoulders pulled back, a half smile on his full pink lips. But it’s the way he’s staring at me that makes my stomach do a back flip because no guy has every stared at me in such a ravenous way. No guy has ever stared at me like he’s undressing me with his eyes.
He leans in closer to me and I stiffen out of nervousness and fear and his half smile breaks out into a full one as he says, “Easy. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“You already did,” I blurt out. Shit. I should be trying to play it cool. Typical me. I always say the wrong things. But technically speaking he did hurt me.
“Touché. But if it’s any consolation it was an accident and I did apologize. Err—Miss—.”
“Robin.”
He chuckles softly and I admire his long dark lashes as he leans in closer to my face to examine the bump on my head further. He breathes softly and his warm breath wafts over my face and at that point I know I’m blushing. “Wait here a second.” He backs away from me and jogs off toward a few vending machines.
He returns a few minutes later and thrusts an ice cold soda into my hand. “Put that on it. It will make the swelling go down.”
I do as he says and sigh in relief as the cold can of liquid refreshment puts out the raging fire beneath my skin. “Thanks.”
He smiles and my breath hitches at the sight of his pearly, straight teeth. I keep reminding myself to breathe normally, but it’s like my lungs aren’t listening to the commands spouting off in my head.
A nanosecond later m
om rushes out the door and her gaze shifts from me holding the can of soda on my forehead to the beautiful boy standing next to me. “Sweetheart!” she gasps and pulls back my arm to examine my head. “What happened?”
“He…Um…”
The guys chuckles nervously and shrugs. “I accidentally whacked her in the head with the door.”
“Robin, sweetheart.” Mom moves her finger toward the bump.
I wince. “Mom, don’t touch it.”
Mom pulls her hand back and there’s a flash of concern in her evergreen eyes. “I’m worried. What if you have a concussion?” Her eyes shift to the guy. “How hard did you smack her with it? And how did this happen?”
“Not too hard, ma’am,” he answers politely. “She was trying to go inside the administration office and I was trying to leave. Then, well, we sort of collided.”
I place the pop can back on my forehead and I can feel the heat blazing in my cheeks. This is beyond embarrassing. Sometimes mom treats me like a child—no—more than sometimes almost all the time. I assume it’s because I’m an only child. “Mom, look I’ll be fine. Um, this guy—err—.”
“Elliot.”
“Yeah, Mom. Elliot was nice enough to go and get me something cold to put on my head to make the swelling go down.”
Mom shakes her head. “Are you sure you don’t want me to run you to an Urgent Care before we take the tour.”
“No!” I say it fast and with a lot of force. “No I’m fine.”
I think she may be overreacting. It’s not like I’ve never had a goose egg before. I replay an incident from my childhood where there was a head on head collision with another six year old during a game of dodge ball and I had a goose egg as big as a golf ball. What I remember more vividly than anything is the emergency room doctor examining the bump and saying with a smile, “It’s just a little goose egg.”
The sun shines brightly and touches the highlighted tips of Elliot’s crown of gold. His hair shimmers and I notice his watery gray-blue eyes. My chest tightens and I feel the need to relieve myself from this embarrassing moment. Thank God, Mom beats me to it. “Well, sweetheart, you ready to get this tour over with?”
You freaking bet I am. “Yeah, Mom.”
Mom turns to Elliot. “Thanks for being so kind to my daughter.”
Elliot probes me with his eyes. I look away, nervous. “It’s no problem really. After all, I’m the one who hit her with the door. It was the least I could do.”