Maggie is positively giddy.
Looking up from her desk and into the face of the delicious young man before her, she’s suddenly glad that they moved. She is thankful for the dilapidated shack they call home. She fully supports every decision made by Eve that brought her to this moment. Like that, like a switch being flipped, things are finally looking brighter.
If she would have known a month ago that male prospects like this existed? And that she would get the chance to try and seduce them? Her and her red curls would have bounced with joy all the way to Saintsville.
None of this shows externally, of course, as she calmly leans forward onto her desk and smirks.
Grinning back, he flashes his perfect white teeth. Deep dimples frame his full mouth. Up close, he’s even more handsome than she thought. With his flawless skin and shoulder-length, wavy blonde hair, half of which he has tied back. The intensity in his light brown eyes is mesmerizing as he crouches down before her. Reaching under her desk, he picks up a pen from the floor and sets it in front of Maggie.
Taking out her headphones, she studies the generic ballpoint.
“Sorry, not mine,” Maggie shrugs.
“It is now,” he teases, sitting down in a seat beside her.
“But what if I don’t want it?”
Picking up the writing device, Maggie places it on his desk. His eyebrows raise as he reaches for the pen, giving Maggie a chance to study him more. Staring at his exposed arms, Maggie can tell they are defined and muscular, covered in a complex pattern dominating the surface. To say his tattoos are unusual would be an understatement. In her experience, people’s ink usually had a random aesthetic. Mermaids, skulls, sappy inspirational quotes, favorite cereals. They were either spontaneous, or extremely personal in nature.
The small thick lines with breaks in between, covering both of his arms, have no clear message. Angled various directions, they remind her of an intricate maze.
“It’s not polite to return a gift,” he prods with mock annoyance, setting the pen back in front of her.
“I don’t accept gifts from strangers,” Maggie taunts.
“We’re not strangers.”
“We’ve never met….”
He holds out his large hand, and Maggie accepts, giving it a shake.
“West.”
“Maggie.”
“So…you’re the girl in the attic.”
“Well…shit.” Maggie mumbles, causing West to laugh.
If Maggie would have known that they could see her, she wouldn’t have been so obvious in her reconnaissance. Neither she nor Eve had seen them look the direction of their shack once while they had been doing God knows what to that field. But West did seek her out today and is being straightforward about her spying. If he is creeped out by it, he isn’t giving her any indication.
Maybe he is the voyeuristic type? She could work with that.
A high-pitched female voice pushes into their conversation, forcing West and Maggie to turn.
“You live in an attic? Wow…charming?”
Maggie can’t help but groan, noticing the attractive blonde from the hallway planted firmly in front of them, her delicate features arranged in manufactured concern. Maggie hadn’t even noticed the classroom filling up, the seats now half occupied.
She’d been too interested in West to care.
“I’m Zoe,” says the pert blonde, to West only, gracefully seating herself in front of him. “You are…?” she continues.
“West,” he mumbles politely, brushing her off.
Good. Maggie takes his dismissal as a cue to continue with their previous banter.
“You guys were the ones chopping, digging, and mowing all hours of the day,” the youngest Abbott playfully accuses, her voice lowered.
From the corner of her eye, Maggie sees Zoe flip her hair in frustration, turning with a huff toward the chalkboard.
“Nosey neighbors are the worst,” he teases.
“Really? I was going to say nosey blondes….” It’s an obvious dig toward Zoe, which doesn’t go unnoticed, her manicured nails digging into the desk’s battered surface.
A loud bell rings, and their English teacher enters. He’s older, near retirement if Maggie had to guess. Small in size with large glasses, salt-and-pepper hair, and a kind face. She thinks he says his name is Mr. Harris as he rattles off some sort of introduction, then instructs the students to take out a piece of paper.
Picking up her backpack from the concrete floor and unzipping it, she takes out a simple notebook and a floral pencil case.
West’s hand touches her wrist, sending a strong shock straight up her arm.
“Ouch!” she whispers, rubbing her shoulder and giggling. It is obvious, in more ways than one, that they have a spark.
“Sorry… Can I borrow a piece of paper, and a pen?”
“You have to be kidding,” Maggie states after a moment, realizing that West doesn’t have any sort of backpack or supplies.
Taking that pen once again from her desk, Maggie leans across and firmly plants it in front of him.
At this, they both break into giggles.
“Something funny?” inquires the teacher.
“No sir,” West states, confidently, accepting a piece of notebook paper from Maggie as well. The teacher’s intrusion forces both of them to face forward and pretend to listen, as their instructor wastes no time in doling out their first assignment.
Scribbling down the essay parameters, Maggie sneaks a quick glance over at West.
Adel would have liked West. Maybe not his tattoos, but Maggie recalled how her mother was slow to judge anyone. Her mother’s friends were diverse and unique—she didn’t discriminate, since her work opened her up to all sorts of personalities.
Orion, on the other hand, would probably have had a heart attack, knowing that his little girl was pursuing a miscreant of this sort. Grounding her and stating that she wasn’t allowed to date until college. Spouting the normal, generic, overprotective parental nonsense. Maggie often wondered if her behavior since their disappearance was a desperate cry for their return. That if she pushed the envelope, just enough, that maybe, just maybe, they would find her again.
She would give anything to be able to tell them both about this day.
And she realizes, for the first time since her parents, she is happy.