Her brother started to walk toward me, and I felt my body lock tight, while the warm feeling grew hotter and hotter.
When he reached my seat, he slid his headphones down to rest on his neck before offering me a hopeful smile. “Lizzie?”
Whoa.
Claire was a big, fat liar.
Nodding eagerly, I grabbed my schoolbag off the seat and smiled up at him, hoping and praying he would sit down.
Hedid.
“Thanks,” he said, placing his bag on the floor with mine. “I’m Hugh.”
“I know.” Excitement bubbled inside me when he turned to face me. “Claire told us you looked like a troll.” Twisting sideways on my seat, I leaned in close and took a whiff. “Claire said you were stinky.” I pulled back and frown. “But you’re not.” He smelled like soap and strawberries. “I like how you smell.”
“Uh, okay?” Hugh replied with a small laugh. “Thanks, I think?”
His eyes were big, and warm, and brown, and safe. Not the same dark brown as Claire’s eyes. Hers were much darker. Her brother’s eyes were brown like the color of my daddy’s whiskey.
Whiskey eyes.
“What’s that?” I asked, pointing at his headphones that were still playing music.
“This?” He held the device up. “It’s a Walkman.”
“I know that, silly.” Giggling, I reached up and tapped one of the earphones. “What’s the song?”
“Oh.” He pulled the headphones off his neck and handed them to me. “It’s called ‘Send Me on My Way’ from Rusted Root.”
Holding the speaker part to my ear, I listened carefully to the melody playing. It was a happy one. It made me smile. “I like it.”
“Yeah,” he agreed when I handed the headphones back to him. “Me, too.”
Attention riveted on the boy sitting next to me, I studied every amber-colored fleck and pattern in his eyes. Thick, dark lashes fanned out from his eyelids, the same color as his big pupils.
Hugh Biggs had whiskey eyes that didn’t look away.
Instead, they stayed right on mine, warm and kind and chasing away the scary feeling in my head. Caoimhe always told me to stop staring so hard at people. She said it was creepy and weird. But this boy didn’t seem to mind.
“Your eyes are nice,” I told him, feeling my heart flip-flop when I looked at him. “I like them.”
“Uh, thanks?” His cheeks reddened. “I like yours, too.”
“Your face is red.”
He shifted in discomfort. “So is yours.”
“I know why.” I beamed back at him. “It’s because I give you the hots.”
“Uh.” He looked surprised and his face turned even redder. “I, uh…”
“It’s okay.” Grinning, I grabbed his hand and pressed it to my cheek. “See? You give me the hots, too.”
“Uh…yeah, maybe,” he mumbled, pulling his hand away. “Here,” he said then, thrusting an envelope into my hands, brown eyes watching me warily. “It’s an invitation to my birthday party.” His cheeks started to turn pink. “I hope you can come.”
“I can,” I blurted out, gripping the envelope for dear life. “I’ll come.”
“You don’t even know what day it is,” he chuckled, giving me a peculiar look. “It’s on Halloween, so you might be busy with your family.”
