© Copyright 2011
All work is property of Leah Crichton, any duplication or reproduction of all or part of the work without explicit permission by the author is illegal.

Discombobulate: (dis-kam-bob-you-late)

to throw into a state of mental confusion

cause to be unable to think clearly

I was going to call Luke to say thank you as soon as I figured out which direction I should go to reach my first class. It was math, room two twenty. I squinted at the numbers above the office and pondered the merits of schools being equipped with one of those you-are-here directories when he approached.

“Help you find something?”

His voice was agonizingly familiar. I'd memorized its sound and the face it belonged to weeks ago. It’d been on a vicious merry go round in my mind ever since.  Coffee Shop Boy. My body froze, but my eyes rebelled and stole a look ahead. The button on his jeans was worn, tarnished silver and once again the black t-shirt he wore hugged him in places that made even my good knee weak. Perfect. Coffee Shop Boy and Parking Lot Boy were one and the same.

“You. You’re the boy from the coffee shop.” Genius, Ireland, well done.

He stepped closer, looking behind my shoulder. “You. You’re the girl from the coffee shop.”

“Yeah.” My cheeks flushed hot with fire, betraying the secret thoughts I’d had about him.

“Yeah.” He folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall. He was enjoying this, maybe too much.

I moved to the side. “Okay, uh, thanks.”

Being faster than me was no longer something to consider an accomplishment, and by the time I had my crutches in place to move, his body blocked the way. “Thanks for what?”

“Nothing. Thanks for nothing.”

Stop talking. Just. Stop. Talking.

He smirked. “You’re welcome for nothing. What's the rush?”

“I-I need to get to math.”

“Well, seems to me you aren’t going anywhere fast and you’ve already been so kind as to thank me for nothing, so the least I can do is show you the way.”

My heart skipped. “I don’t need help.” The only thing I truly needed was to get away from him. It was like he turned on my stupid switch.

He shook his head. “Afraid I can’t let you go.”

“I beg your pardon?” I moved to cross my arms over my chest but succeeded only in dropping my backpack, which almost took me to the floor with it.

He bent over and picked it up. “You don't have to beg me for anything, you just have to ask. Anyway, I have a reputation to uphold. You’re new, you’re lost, and you need me.”

Why the universe insisted on making every hot guy unavailable, gay or arrogant was beyond my understanding. “I don't need you,” I corrected him. “In fact, I don't even know you. Can I please have my backpack?”

I stretched my arm out expectantly but he pulled the bag in toward his chest as if it was his mission to protect it. “Again, afraid not. Why don’t you drop the ice queen routine you got going on? I'm not buying it.”

Oh. My. God. Really? It was going to be like this, was it? I looked at the ceiling and prayed for some kind of patience, or at the very least for my backpack so I could hurl it at his face. “I don't need you.”

That was when it happened, when what little resolve I had evaporated faster than a snowflake in July. He grinned full on, and it was dangerous and devastating and heart palpitating all at the same time. Two dimples appeared on either side of his face and I just about fainted. “Fair enough,” he said. “Maybe you don’t need the help, or me for that matter, but I’m an old fashioned kind of guy and chivalry isn’t dead. I’d like to show you the way, if you'll let me.”

“What about your girlfriend?” I blurted, slapping myself mentally because my question did nothing but tell him I’d been watching him earlier.

“My what?”

“The dark haired girl in the parking lot, isn’t she your girlfriend?”

“Wow, no small talk, huh? You’re a Jump the Gun kind of girl. I like it. She’s a girl and my friend, but she’s not my girlfriend.”

I wasn’t a Jump the Gun kind of girl. I was apparently a babble-verbal-nonsense-within-a-five-foot-radius-of-a-hot-guy kind of girl. “Sorry, it’s none of my business,” I said. “Can I please have my backpack?”

“Here’s the thing,” he said, hoisting it across his shoulder. “I will be more than happy to return your backpack once I escort you to math.”

I considered telling him to go to hell, but I didn’t for two reasons: One, God might strike me down for being terrible to someone as beautiful as this guy, and Two, I didn’t really want him to leave, at least not without me. He was arrogant but too damned sexy to ignore. He remained where he was, waiting for my answer.

“Lead the way.”

He smiled victoriously and started to walk in slow, lazy strides. “I knew you’d see things my way. I’m Orion.”

“I—” I'd nearly slipped. “I'm Quinn.” No sooner did the word leave my mouth than I wanted to reel it back in, wishing I hadn’t responded at all. It was unnatural to lie about something I'd complained about for so long, and the desire to fess up was overwhelming. “Quinn is actually my middle name.”

“So, what's the first name?”

“Never mind.”

“C’mon, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Nope.” I had no intention of revealing my name to Mr. Teen Universe. In fact, I’d rather chew gravel.

“I’ll guess,” he threatened.

I widened my eyes like I was shaking in my boots. “Guess away. You’ll never get it.”

“On a scale of one to ten, how strange is it?”

“One thousand.”

“Mortisha.”

I laughed. “That would be a step up.”

“Mufasa.”

“I’m gonna be a mighty king.”

“You’re right, that’s ridiculous. How about Medusa?”

I stopped in my tracks. “Really? Medusa? What’s with the M’s?”

He smiled. “Touchy. I get it. So, is it like the letter K and the number 8, pronounced Kate?”

“Where did you even come up with that?”

He shrugged. “Dunno. I was working the whole strange angle.”

“You won’t guess it.”

“A hint?”

“Here’s a hint. You’re more likely to be struck by lightning than guess my name, so you may as well stop trying.”

“I’ve been struck by lightning,” he said.

“And my name is Mufasa. Hey thanks again, this time for real.” 

“You're welcome for real. I’m not going to give up on the name game, just so you know, but maybe you can offer a distraction and tell me why you’re on crutches.” He seemed genuinely interested and, even though he held my bag hostage, it was nice that he wanted to help, so I thought I owed him an explanation.

“I was in a bad car accident.” I spared him the ghastly details.

“I'm sorry to hear that.”

“S’okay, I’m still here, right? Could have been worse.”

“True enough.” He grinned again, and my insides melted. “Well, you can stick by me if you want; if you need anything at all, I’d be happy to help.”

I realized then why he was talking to me in the first place. He'd taken one look at me outside, saw how pathetic I was, and decided I could use a hand. I was irritated with myself for being so stupid, irritated with him for being so pushy. “Well, here we are,” he said pointing to the classroom. “I’ve gotta go to gym, but I’ll come to take you to your next class.”

A vision of what he’d look like sweaty and in competitive mode crept into my mind, but I tucked it away for later. It would make a good replacement for the current daydream and give me some small thing to look forward to. Such was my life now. Wait. Did he just say he was coming back?  “Oh, no. You don’t need to do that.”

“Really, I’d like to.”

I arched a brow. “You'd like to?”

He nodded. “Like, as in to find agreeable, enjoyable, satisfactory.”

“Okay smart ass. As in clever, yet an ass.” I said. “I'll see you after.”

He issued an obnoxious salute. “Good luck, mystery girl.” As quickly as he appeared outside the door of the office, he was gone.

Math was less of a calamity than expected. Ms. Williams, the teacher, didn’t make a big production of my arrival, for which I was grateful. 

I took an empty seat and all eyes in the room shifted in my direction. I found myself wishing that my new—my only—friend was beside me, despite the fact that he might be a clever ass. Surely the students were picking me apart inside their heads, wondering why I was on crutches, who I was, where I came from. Trading places, I'd have done the exact same thing, so it's not like I could blame them.

Unlike most of the students who viewed me with unspoken but polite curiosity, one girl with a short blonde bob as severe as the expression on her face glared openly. Judging from the way she sat in her chair, I didn’t think she could be very tall, and every time I glanced in her direction, she looked as though she was going to vomit.

Rather than initiate a silent conflict, I tore a loose thread from my sleeve and began to wind it through my fingers. Instead of staying focused on the class, my thoughts whirled around the insanely attractive Orion and why he was so intent on helping me.

Looking around the room at some of the other female students revealed that almost all of them were pretty. I wondered if he was nice to them, too. Probably. I could only guess his interest had more to do with my injury than anything else.

When the bell rang, I took a little extra time to gather my things, trying not to be bothered by the gawking. I hoped he would be outside like he said he would be, instead of realizing I wasn’t worth his time. When I stood to leave, he was right beside me, collecting my books and bag again. “How was math, Calypso?”

“It’s not Calypso and math was okay. Nothing too traumatic.” I left out the she-viper and her venom.

“What’s your next class?”

I fumbled with my schedule, which was secured inside the pocket of my jeans. “It’s English. With Mr. Radner.”

“Me too.”

“Imagine that.” 

As he walked beside me, I realized how very tall he was. At my five feet four inches, he dwarfed me. The top of my head came up only to his chest. His stride was remarkable. My crutches moved double time to keep up, and he noticed. “Sorry. I’ll try to go slower.”

“Really, you don’t have to do this. I can make my way. Don't you have friends you'd rather be with?”

“What kind of person would I be to leave a damsel in distress to fend for herself? A terrible one,” he said before I could answer. His words confirmed that he did feel sorry for me, that thinking anything else was crazy. “Ladies first.” He swept his hand across the entry to the room while I stood frozen in the doorway, searching for an empty spot. He leaned in close and I had to adjust my crutches to keep from falling over. Good God. His breath teased my earlobe, sending a tickle of chills through my spine. “Table at the back, to your left.”

This must be what that final walk on death row felt like, when the warden shouts, "Dead Man Walking!" Some of the same students who gawked in my last class were here too, only this time they all looked down at their desks, not daring to look up. Orion pulled a chair out and for the first time since I could remember, I felt guarded.

“Thanks.” I fumbled with the buckle of my backpack to get my papers and pen out.

“No problem.”

I noticed his scent again. I hadn’t forgotten about it since we met at the coffee shop, vanilla and woods, a sort of man-boy smell—the kind that smells impossibly good. I began to take longer breaths through my nose so my memory might be able to bottle it for later.

“So Rio,” he whispered, “Do you like it here?”

Yes, I thought. About an hour ago, this place got so much better. “Wrong again, and I don’t really know. I haven’t gotten to see much, to do anything, you know, aside from the hospital, home, and rehab. That day I saw you at the coffee shop was the only time I’ve actually gone anywhere.”

“Well, what do you think so far?”

“It seems nice enough. A lot different from home.”

“Where’s home?”

“Small town in Manitoba. You’ve probably never heard of it.”

“Try me,” he teased. “I’m not so sheltered.”

“Churchill.”

This made him laugh. “I guess it must be different. We don’t have to watch for polar bears in parking lots, and I’m pretty sure it’s never been thirty-five below zero here.”

“Alright, fine. So you've heard of Churchill. Maybe that's not so impressive given that it's the polar bear capital of the world.”

“Is it really?” He feigned surprise. “I had no idea. If you want, I can take you around Vancouver, show you some stuff. It's the Awesome Capital of the World.”

“I'm pretty sure there is no Awesome Capital. Smart-Ass Capital, maybe, but Awesome is pushing it. Are you really inviting me out?” I raised a skeptical eyebrow for the second time that day.

“That depends. Are you really going to accept my invitation?”

Was he kidding? This could be some kind of sick cruel joke. The whole school could be in on it. Send the gorgeous guy to befriend the new girl and then make a fool out of her. But I didn’t want to believe it. “Maybe.”

“So what’s the determining factor?”

“When?”

“After school?”

Today was Monday. I had rehabilitation appointments on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Should I ditch? Spending time with him was far more appealing than suffering at the hands of the physiotherapist. But things would never return to normal if I didn’t go. I sighed. “I’d love to, but I can’t. I have to go to my physiotherapist.”

“I could take you, if you’d like.”

I didn't give him an eyebrow this time, rather a smirk that spread across my entire face. “Surely you have more interesting things to do than take me to rehab.”

“Oh, I could probably find something to do. The question of whether I would find anything more interesting is debatable.”

I considered this for a moment; maybe his enthusiasm would make it a less horrendous experience. Maybe having him there would push me more to show off. I knew that it would. But it would also present the challenge of keeping my first name a secret. Before my mind had enough time to absorb all the possibilities, the words came out of their own accord. “Sounds good.” I thought about Luke coming afterward to pick me up. “Can you give me a ride home?”

“I might just want to keep you forever, but I’ll be good and take you home.”

A nervous laugh escaped and my voice was nothing more than a squeak. “Forever?”

“What can I tell you? Redheads are my kryptonite.”