Читать книгу Under Pressure - A. C. Meyer - Страница 8

From the moment Ryan held Mandy in his arms as he bumped her in the hallway, so she wouldn't fall to the floor, he felt stunned. He had already noticed that beautiful girl in the halls of Gloucester High School when he was still in high school. He found the girl delicate, who wore her long dark hair always tied, very interesting to watch. Her beauty was exotic, with beautiful features and very green eyes. And the delicacy and softness of her features contrasted with the sporty style of the dark jeans, T-shirt and sneakers he wore.

In his opinion, she was a fox. He had always felt attracted to her, but have never tried anything. They were not part of the same group of friends and she never gave him a second look. Although they studied at the same school, Ryan was a year older and they always studied in different classes. Besides, she was very serious and he didn't think she was the type of girl who would accept going out with him. They had never spoken and only exchanged polite smiles occasionally. Seeing her at Brown, a year after he last saw her, was undoubtedly a great surprise.

The bump in the hall left him swaying. Maybe it was the fact that she fit perfectly in his arms or maybe it was because of the sweet, soft and floral scent of her perfume, which made him want to lean in a little closer, to better smell her. Or, who knows, maybe it was because of her intriguing and sensual appearance, very different from the shy girl who hid her attributes in high school. Amanda looked more grown up now. She was wearing her hair down - something he had never seen before - which framed her green eyes and made him want to touch the dark strands to find out if they were as soft as they looked.

But as fast as she fell against his body, she left, leaving him with the feeling of having been run over by the entire opposing team from the last game, such was the intensity of the feelings that aroused him.

He ran his hands through his hair, still feeling a little lost, until something red on the floor captured his attention: a ballet shoe. It should have fallen out of her backpack when he dropped her.

Determined, Ryan went down the hall, looking into the nearest rooms, trying to find her, but he was out of luck. It was as if the girl had evaporated. Frustrated, he was feeling the Prince Charming himself, left at the ball (in his case, in the college hallways), with the sneaker in hand and her owner having disappeared.

Unsuccessful with the search, he decided to go to literature class, before Miss. Leslie, the class teacher, went outside to get him. When she passed him at the entrance to the building, the teacher had wagged her finger and spoke in a loud and clear tone that she would wait for him in her class without delay. You can't stop yourself from making an awkward face when you remember the teacher's words. He hated it when they drew conclusions from his actions without really knowing him. That was the downside of being a popular guy. People generally judged his attitudes, without really knowing him. He knew that he fit the stereotype of the athlete, captain of the basketball team and relatively popular, but he was not a fool. He was a good student, who struggled in his studies to get good grades and was worried about the future.

Still thinking about the girl, Ryan came into the room and looked around assessing where he was going to sit. His eyes went to the back of the class and he smiled widely, hardly believing his luck. There she was: sitting on one of the chairs, looking for something in the backpack. Her dark hair fallen over her shoulders and, once again, he wanted to touch it and feel its thickness.

Stop it, he scolded himself.

Yes. She was beautiful. Yes. He was very attracted. But he could very well control his impulses and not act like an idiot.

Without looking away, Ryan followed her to return the ballerina flat - which was still in his hand - and, who knows, to know a little more about this girl who intrigued him so much. As he passed between the tables, he greeted one and another classmate. Until he approached and smelled the sweet, soft scent of her perfume enveloping him again. Looking surprised, she looked up at him and parted her lips.

"Hi, Cinderella. You forgot your satin shoe in the hall." - Ryan held out the hand that held the shoe with a flourish in her direction and smiled playfully. He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, watching the girl's reaction closely.

Feeling her face burning, Mandy murmured:

"Um ..." - She cleared her throat. - "Thanks. I didn't realize I had dropped it." - If the blush on her cheeks were not a hint of her shyness, her low voice and the fact that she was barely able to look at him would clearly say how embarrassed she looked.

Willing to break the ice, Ryan opened his winning smile - that one girls usually couldn't resist, and sat down in the chair next to her.

"Do you remember me?" - He asked. - "I'm Ryan McKenna from Gloucester. We studied at the same school" - he added, striking up a conversation.

She let out a hum-hum, without paying much attention to him.

"I didn't know you danced ballet," he continued.

“Kinda.”

Her answer - or the lack of it - puzzled him. He was not used to being ignored. Usually, people paid all attention to a popular guy like him.

He parted his lips to say something when Miss. Leslie came into the room and looked around. When she saw him sat, she gave him a satisfied smile and nodded. Ryan smiled back and waved softly in silent greeting. The teacher have barely put the material on the table and was already talking excitedly about the lesson plan for the semester. Looking away from the front of the room, he looked to the side and saw Mandy ignoring him and writing down everything the teacher was saying. Still, he didn't give up on striking up a conversation with her.

"Have you been dancing for a long time?"

"Yup." - Damn, she's still monosyllabic. That’s no good.

"For how long?"

"Since the age of 5." - She turned to him, who saw a different sparkle in her eyes, quickly covered by a cloak of indifference. - "I'm sorry, but I'm trying to follow the class." - Her tone sounded annoyed.

Ryan looked away and took a notebook from his backpack.

"Sorry, Cinderella. I just wanted to get to know you better." His voice was low and a little harder than he expected, but he couldn't help feeling frustrated. What was wrong with her? Or worse, with him?

With big green eyes wide, Mandy opened her mouth to answer, but the teacher, who was talking about the semester's project, turned to them and said:

"Ryan, Amanda can be your partner on the project."

The teacher looked away from the two, continuing to randomly split the class into pairs and Ryan looked back at Mandy, who looked dissatisfied.

"What is it, Cindy? Didn't you like having to do the job with me?"

Her tone was scathing.

“No. I wanted to do it with someone who liked to study, not one who would leave the job behind me. And my name is Amanda, not Cindy."

Whoo! The fox has claws! And sharp ones, he thought to himself.

Unable to hide his smile, he leaned in and whispered very close to her ear. Adrenaline shot through his body and he felt challenged to prove to that girl that he was a hard worker.

"But who said I don't like to study?" - From where Ryan was, he could see the light hairs on her arm, which was resting on the table, stand up. - "You can be sure that this will be the best work of the class on ..." - Ryan looked quickly at the whiteboard to read the project theme. Jane Austen? Ah, damn it! - "Hmm... Jane Austen" - completed, feeling a little less secure. - "And I know your name, Amanda Summers. The girl's eyes widened slightly when she heard her last name. - "Cindy is my nickname for Cinderella, since I think you won't be happy if someone hears me call you that."

"I don't like silly nicknames," she replied so quietly, that if he hadn't been so close, he wouldn't have heard. Then she lowered her head again, concentrating on the notebook in front of her. - "All I want is to get a good grade, without having to kill myself to do the project alone."

"Be cool. I will not let you do anything alone. We will do it together, like two good partners." - He smiled. - "And the nickname is not silly. I am not to blame if you are my Cinderella."

"And what are you? Prince Charming?" - Mandy couldn't keep the ironic tone. "You think you are, don't you, Ryan McKenna?" - she couldn't stop her voice from being full of poison.

He looked at her, surprised by the hostility.

"What do you mean by that?"

"That you must be full of yourself just because you are the captain of the basketball team and the girls fly around you like bakery flies. But you don't have to pretend to be interested in me, as I don't fall for your conquering heartthrob chat."

Ryan raised his eyebrow and opened and closed his mouth a few times. She managed to leave him speechless. He knew that most people treated him with privileges because he was the playmaker and captain of the team, and the girls really flirted with him, but he had never seen himself in such a distorted perspective. As if he was a bad guy for being popular.

He was about to reply that she was wrong when Miss. Leslie called out their names again.

"Ryan? Amanda? Your book is Pride and Prejudice " - the teacher spoke and continued to indicate the book for each pair. - "You should make a project, showing the cultural differences of the time when the book takes place in comparison with the present, the difference in love relationships, always comparing past and present, without forgetting the theoretical basis through the authors who are part of the readings referenced for our discipline. I will make the prerogatives of work available on our class forum on the internet."

Pride and Prejudice It couldn't be a better book. Ryan would make the Cinderella pleaded swallow the prejudice against him by the end of the semester. Now, taming that aloof girl was a matter of honor.

At the end of class, Ryan stood up and rested his backpack on his shoulder, smiling at Miss. Grumpy.

"Bye, Cindy. See you. But, I already want to set up our meeting at the campus library, to start our work. I'll see you on Saturday at nine in the morning."

He bowed to her as a period nobleman would have done to a lady - perhaps even Mr. Darcy to Elizabeth - blinked and headed for the exit. I was sure that if I looked back, she would be open-mouthed, surprised.