We Real Cool 3 Sparks Rocke

I fall, not on the ground, but in the arms of a man. As I lay there, coc.o.o.ned in my savior's embrace, I open my eyes. In front of me, or above me, rather, was a boy my age. On his angelic face was a smile that made my heart skip a beat in an instant. He had deep, hazel brown eyes that told me everything was going to be alright. The look on his face showed that he cared, and I didn't doubt that—not for one second.

While I normally freak out around strangers invading my personal s.p.a.ce, I'm currently at peace. I'm surprisingly calm. I try my best to suppress my smile as I force myself to snap out of this state of mild euphoria. The only idea that pops into my mind is to get up.

As though he'd read my mind, he moves his left arm away, and slowly pulls me up. Despite his sudden shift, I remain completely stable. Electric sparks run across my body as he pulls me up.

"Thanks," I say softly.

"It's all good," he answered, as he looked straight into my eyes. "No problem."

"Look," I say while pulling the creases out of my crop top, doing my very best to focus and not be distracted by his charm. "I'm not usually this clumsy," I say.

I stop for a moment because I am awestruck as soon as I get a better look at him. He's quite tall; I'd say around 5'10''. He's also sporting a semi-fit V-neck in crimson, which sported the words RED SOX.

"I was trying to get to that bus over there," I continue. "And I'm running late, and I stepped on the puddle over there and I tried to wipe the mud off my foot but I lost my balance."

"I figured," he replied.

We smile at each other for the longest second, and just when it's beginning to get awkward, he bends down and picks my things up. My bag, my book and even my dirty flip-flop. I cannot believe how thoughtless I am for just standing here and looking at him gather them up.
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"You don't have to do that," I tell him. He gets up and gives me another look, sending chills down my spine. "Thank you."

"Here," he says while handing me my flip-flop. "No problem."

"Like I said, you don't have to. But thank you," I say while protracting the last word, hoping that he'd give me his name.

"Red."

"Thank you, Red." I finish my sentence while holding out my right hand. "I'm Liz."

"Great to meet you," he answered, shaking my hands.

A long honk breaks our handshaking moment. I look around and notice that the honk came from Bus C, which I thought had already left. It appears it's waiting for me. Maybe even for us.

"Before I forget," he says while grabbing something from his backpack. "Put these on. You're lucky I forgot to leave them at the dorm." He hands me a pair of black Ultraboost 19. I was about to bring up how it was too big for me, but then he handed me a pair of black socks.

"Don't worry," he says while zipping up his backpack. "They're clean; I haven't used them yet."

He seems to be in a hurry so I do what he asked of me so I take off my other flip-flop, my book, and my bag, put them beside me, and wear the socks. The socks are probably a size 9 and I'm a 7, so I fold the ends in before putting the shoes on. While I'm putting them on, he bends down, grabs both of my flip-flops and puts them in his backpack. "I'm sure these can no longer fit in your bag," he says. "So let's keep it here right now, and I'll give them back to you later."

I'm now down to the laces. While doing the one on the right shoe, I decide to ask him another question.

"Are you also joining the ride to Fenway Park?" I ask while tying the laces. "And I suppose, as proven by your shirt, you're also a big fan of Red Sox?"

"I'm not supposed to attend the game, actually, but yes, I am a fan," he says as he bends down and ties the laces of the left. He finishes before I do, gets back up, and offers me his hand.

How did he do that?

"Thanks," I grab his hand.

"Don't forget Anna and your Longchamp," he says.

"Oh!" I look around and sure enough, my bag and my book are still beside me on the ground. I grab them with my left hand and finally get up. "Thanks."

"Shall we?" he asks as he slowly lets go of my hand and gestures towards the bus.

I give a soft chuckle at his little act.

"We shall." This time, he smiles at my remark.

He turns around and begins a slow jog; I follow his lead and eventually run past him.

"Last one treats the other for dinner at Fenway!" I shout as I look back.

And just like that, we sprint towards the bus while laughing our hearts out.