I felt my mouth go dry as she came closer to me. She smelled like Play-Doh and peaches as she came within inches of me, and I felt her fingers slip into mine.
When she let go, and lifted up the crayon in front of me, I found myself smiling at her innocent face. She held it between us and tilted her head.
“You shouldn't keep things that aren't yours,” she told me.
“I was returning it. Give me some credit,” I replied.
“You've had it almost a month.”
“I didn't figure anyone would miss the white crayon. It's not really important,” I told her, and she scoffed.
“Every crayon is important. What if I had wanted to draw a ghost on black paper?” she asked, pursing her lips.
And I found myself thinking about them instead of her question. Because I was a guy, and she was beautiful.
Julie smiled at me, tilting her head. “You're staring again.”
I rolled my eyes. “Was not,” I replied.
She didn't look convinced, and I wasn't going to convince her. Maybe me staring at her wasn't such a bad thing in the first place. Maybe I was just over thinking everything.
Not that I was trying to flirt with her. I would never do that.
She laughed, slipping her hand into mine. “Come on. I want you to meet everyone,” she told me with a smile, dragging me toward the group of kids.
All I could manage to think about was her hand in mine.
We stood in the center, and I looked around at all of the children. They looked at me the same way I was looking at them: as if we all were freaks, but there wasn't a problem with that. We all existed in our own little paradox.
“Hey! Everyone!” Julie said loudly, trying to get all of their eyes to look her way. A few of the kids didn't pay her any mind, and she released my hand to bend down and throw a handful of legos at the group of boys.
They turned and looked at her like she was crazy, and I smirked. Maybe she was, and maybe I was okay with that.
“Thank you for your time, boys,” she told them, and then straightened back up. “This is Falon, and if anyone sees him frowning, you have my permission to throw something at him,” she replied.
“Excuse me?” I said quickly, and listened as the kids began to laugh. I realized Julie knew exactly how to calm people down by silliness, or calmness.
These little children didn't need to be told to respect me because I was older. They wanted to know that though I looked like a monster, I was just like them.
Kudos to Julie.
“Julie?” a voice called. It sounded muffled, and I looked in the direction that it came from. A boy, around my age, came from around the corner of a group of kids. He was holding a little girl's hand, and she was crying.
Julie went to their side immediately. “What's wrong, sweetie?” she asked the little girl. Then she looked up to the guy. “What happened?”
He looked at her and nudged toward the group of boys that Julie had thrown legos at. “She said they stuck gum in her hair. She wouldn't let me cut it though, because I'm a boy,” he said with a smile.
Julie gave him a soft smile and took hold of the little girl's hand. “Will you let Ms. Julie cut it out? I promise not to cut too much,” she told the crying girl. Slowly, she nodded, and Julie stood up again.
She looked back to me, and smiled, then looked to the boy again. “That's Falon. He's come to help today,” she told him.
The guy looked to me, sized me up, and then turned back to Julie with a grin. “I'll show him around,” he replied.
Julie laughed and nudged his arm and she passed. “Be nice,” she told him, then winking.
I watched with an uneasiness. Maybe he was her boyfriend, and she really was just being nice to me. I didn't need to worry about flirting, or crushing, because she was a taken woman.
And I had nothing on that guy.
He was tall, and suave, like a Calvin Klein model. He wore his jeans like he was doing them a favor, and his dark blonde was style into a faux hawk that made him look more All American than 'about to bang your daughter'.
The fact that he had hair made him instantly better than me. Didn't girls like running their fingers through their guy's hair? I had hair on my legs, but I doubted anyone wanted to run their fingers through that mess.
He came to me, smiling from the corner of his mouth as he held out his hand. “So Falon,” he said, and I slowly took his hand. He squeezed it tight, and gave it one quick shake. “Funny name.”
“Comes with the funny face.”
He laughed, and I mean really laughed, like my joke was the funniest thing he had ever heard. It wasn't really meant to be funny. Just honest, I guess.
“Do you think you have a funny face?” he asked me, as if it were the simplest of questions, and for me it was.
“Of course. It isn't that pretty boy-Zac Efron look that you seem so pleased about,” I replied.
He shrugged it off easily. “My face might not be funny, but these ears are,” he replied, then poked at them. “Can't hear a single thing you say, my man,” he told me with a smile.
I narrowed my eyes. “You're lying,” I told him.
He shook his head. “I kid you not. I was born without hearing in one ear. Dear old daddy use to pop me in the other ear when I was a
