Аманда Хокинг: Switched

“For what?” Patrick had already forgotten his unease about prying and leaned in closer to me.

“Same thing I always get kicked out for,” I shrugged like it was no big deal. “Fighting. This last time I broke a girl’s nose and the family threatened legal action.” I waved it away like it wasn’t anything, but Patrick eyed me up skeptically.

My appearance was deceiving. I was short and small, and I had a decidedly pretty, feminine face. My brown hair was a constant untamed mess of curls that I did my best to keep up in a loose buns or pulled back in some way so it wouldn’t completely take over my face. I had a rather tragic fashion sense with a penchant for skirts, which I think subconscious attempt at spiting my mother. She always tried to force me to wear them, and I refused. So now I wear them when she can’t see them. I’m sure I came across as a frazzled mess, but I was anything but.

“You? Got in a fight?” Patrick cocked an eyebrow, grinning suspiciously at me.

“Hey, I’m tough!” I protested. I thought about flexing my arms to demonstrate, but I was still acutely aware of Finn watching behind us. “I’m a lot tougher than I look.”

“I bet you are,” Patrick nodded earnestly, and at least he believed that.

“So anyway… what’s the deal with the story?” I tapped his open book, meaning to actually work on something.

“Have you read any of it?” Patrick asked.

“Just the title,” I admitted sheepishly.

“You should read it. It’s good… but really twisted,” Patrick turned his book towards me so I could look at his instead of opening mine and scooted his chair closer to me.

Patrick offered helpful asides as I read the story, and even though I didn’t necessarily need them, I enjoyed them. Or at least I would’ve, if I hadn’t become incessantly preoccupied. The back of my neck had started itching from Finn staring at it. That sounds totally paranoid and insane, and it probably was somatic, but I couldn’t help it. I kept self-consciously scratching it and rubbing it, hoping to ease the sensation, but it was useless. I had to read the same sentence four times and still didn’t understand it. On top of that, Patrick kept talking to me, and I couldn’t even concentrate on what he was saying.

“Excuse me,” I said abruptly and stood up. It was stupid for me to just sit there like that. I don’t know why I was giving that idiot Finn kid so much power over me.

“Okay?” Patrick asked, startled and confused.

When I turned around, Finn was staring at me, just as I knew he would be. Unlike Patrick, his expression didn’t register any uncertainty or surprise.

Swallowing hard, I walked over to his table, and I was a little stunned to find that I felt nervous. I almost never felt nervous, and there was nothing to even be nervous about. This kid was just looking at me, nothing more.

“Why are you staring at me?” I asked him pointedly.

“Because you’re standing in front of me,” Finn replied simply. He looked up at me, his eyes framed by dark lashes, and there wasn’t any hint of embarrassment or even denial about being confronted. It was definitely unnerving.

“You’re always staring at me,” I persisted, trying to be as calm and collected as he was. “It’s weird. You’re weird.”

“I wasn’t trying to fit in,” Finn said. I twisted my ring on my thumb and hated that I had to fumble for a response.

“Why do you look at me all the time?” I rephrased my original question.

“Does it bother you?” Finn’s eyes flashed at something that might have been surprise, but it disappeared so quickly, it was probably nothing more than my imagination.

“Answer the question,” I demanded and stood up straighter, trying to make my presence more imposing so he wouldn’t realize how much he was rattling me.

“Everyone always looks at you,” Finn replied coolly and leaned back in his chair. “You’re very attractive.”

That sounded like a compliment, but his voice was completely emotionless when he said it. I couldn’t tell if he was trying to make fun of a vanity I didn’t even have, or he was simply stating facts. Was he flattering me or mocking me? Or maybe something else entirely?

“Nobody stares at me as much as you do,” I countered as evenly as I could.

“If it bothers you, I’ll try and stop,” Finn offered.

That was tricky. In order to ask him to stop, I had to admit that it was getting to me, and I didn’t want admit to anyone that anything got to me. If I lied and said it was fine, then he would just keep on doing it. I had no way to win in this situation.

“I didn’t ask you to stop. I asked you why,” I amended. That didn’t really help, but it made me look slightly less weak. Maybe.

“I told you why,” Finn said.

“No, you didn’t,” I shook my head. “You just said that everyone looks at me. You never explained why you looked at me.”

Almost imperceptibly, the corner of his mouth moved up ever so slightly, revealing just the hint of a smirk. It wasn’t just that he was amused with me; he was pleased with me. He was glad that I had caught him, like he had been challenging me somehow and I passed. That pissed me off, but what pissed me off even more was that I was happy I had passed, that I had made him happy in some insignificant way. My stomach did a stupid flip thing I had never felt before, and I swallowed hard, hoping to fight it back.

“I look at you because I can’t look away,” Finn answered finally.

His reply dumbfounded me. I was struck completely mute, trying to think of some kind of clever response, but my mind refused to work. My jaw probably slacked, and I imagined that I looked like an awestruck school girl, and I hurried to collect myself.

“That’s kind of creepy,” I said at last, but my words came out weak instead of accusatory.

“I’ll work on being less creepy then,” Finn promised.

I had called him out on being creepy, justifiably so, and it didn’t faze him at all. He didn’t stammer an apology or flush with shame and regret. He just kept looking at me evenly. Most likely, he was a damn sociopath, and for whatever reason, I found that endearing. First Patrick’s overt naivety, and now Finn’s total disregard for human emotion. Something was really out of whack with me.

It was impossible for me to come up with a witty retort, but thankfully, the bell rang, saving me from the rest of that awkward conversation. Finn just nodded, thus ending our exchange, and gathered up his books. Numbly, I went back over to the table to do the same, and Patrick was giving me a weird look.

Finn was already long gone. He had had hurried away almost as soon as I turned my back to him.

“Sorry,” I mumbled as we cleared up our things. I had rather rudely ditched him in the middle of his explanation, but he just smiled and shook it off. “I didn’t mean to just walk away. But that was bothering me.”

“No, that’s good. You’re not the kind of person to keep things to yourself,” Patrick said.

“No, I’m not,” I admitted wearily. “That kid’s just been bothering me.”

“I wouldn’t worry about him.” Patrick slung his bookbag over his shoulder and smiled reassuringly at me. “He’s harmless.”

“You think everyone is harmless,” I pointed out and started walking out of the library.

“Do I?” Patrick wondered aloud and followed a step behind me. “No.

I don’t think Tegan’s harmless.”

“She actually is harmless,” I laughed.

Patrick kept me company the rest of the way to my class, and he parted with a hearty wave. True to his word, Finn wasn’t creepy the rest of the day.

Every time I saw him, he was doing something innocuous that didn’t involve looking at me. I still got that feeling that was looking at me when I had my back to him, but as it turned out, I couldn’t seem to do much about feelings.