A hand to my mouth stopped a gush of liquid from squirting on Josh. Thankfully no one at my table noticed a dribble of water that spilled on my chin.
I cleaned my face and ignored what Mya was saying, something about trigonometry I think, and let myself watch Toby from my spot at the table on the far side of the cafeteria hoping, rationolizing that there were so many faces in the lunch room that he couldnt see me.
Toby seemed content to eat by himself like it were a normal concurrance and if someone were to come up to him he would have no qualms about ditching that table and taking off. He had an aura that reeled people stay back.
Even more odd I wanted to know who he was as a person. Did Toby always strut around with that ostentatious air of confidence or was there more to him than brash arrogance.
Maybe it was stupid of me to fantasize what kind of life Toby had off campus.
Maybe I was plain bored and to give myself something to do I was playing therapist like Dr. Cakbridge did to me. Who knew.
I recognized Tobys facial expresssions well enough to distinguish mild cutriousity over ill tempered annoyance.
Despite better judgement and basic overall instinct that maybe it wasnt such a good idea to create attention to myself after having seen Toby pick a fight and almost beat up Josh moments earlier in the lobby, I do not look away.
Maybe I should throw my trash away becasue my food was cold and there was nothing worse than stale french fries. Or better yet, adopt the same attitude Toby did with me and pretend he didnt exist.
Whatever the reason I had a self-destructive urge to give Toby another motive to give me a hard time.
Like a hophead in remission with a bad habbit in the same room as them I direct my focus straight ahead and dont flinch when our eyes locked, myself unable, unwilling to look away even though my indiscret cover was blown and Toby knew I was gaping at him.
As if I'd found a key and heard it click as it went into the mousehole my awareness slid downward, my focus locked on to the plastic spoon that went into Tobys mouth and I couldnt block the image if I'd wanted to. And, boy, should I have.
Instead I let my stare linger and graze over his slim lean build.
He didnt have the necessary muscle mass that would make him an honrary athlete but his pyshique suggested he had the kind of body that could only come from being diligent in some kind of physical excursion to condition and tone.
Even though it was cold and we were in the middle of a snowstorm Toby had on a plain v-neck charcoal grey tee shirt that was stretched tight over what I could see was a large broad chest and perfectly formed biceps that werent too big to be considered thick and bulky.
A strong jaw connected to a slanted collarbone, his cool skin free of problematic blemishes or scars from what his clothes showed, other than a few tattoos. I didnt know Toby was into the mystical. The few that I could see were actually pretty awesome and bad ass.
My grandma was a metaphysical healer who focused on natural remedies to cure basic everyday colds and the problematic from zits to annoying toothaches. So I knew what runes were. But a particular one that involved what I called a fish with an arrow caught my attention.
I could swear as I sat three tables from where tobys spot was next to the vending machine that particular tattoo was ingrained in my mind, the black lines jumping in front of my eyes as if I were looking at it up close. Freaky.
Nothing about Toby went on the count of ordinary.
I looked up and into Tobys blue eyes, his full lips turned upward into a devious smirk formed on one corner of his mouth and thats when I was mortifyinly, painfully aware that he caught me oggling.
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